Page 84 of Always the Bridesmaid

‘Hello stranger,’ my sister says, getting up from the table and coming to give me a quick hug. ‘I heard a rumor you were gracing us with your presence today.’

‘What’s up, little bro?’ Dave asks. ‘I keep hearing your name about town. I’m going to bring Jenny to one of your gigs.’

Jenny and Dave are recently engaged. I sent a bottle of champagne and a large bouquet of flowers in lieu of attending their engagement dinner a few months back. At the time, I was grateful I had a gig that night as an excuse not to go but here, now, I feel bad.

I take a bottle of red wine and my mother’s favorite white from my backpack and set them down on the bench.

‘Put the white in the fridge please, darling,’ my mother says as she takes out a tray of incredible-smelling roast potatoes from the oven. I know they’ll have been roasted in goose fat because that’s how she always makes the potatoes. The smell is nostalgic. Reminding me of Sundays and holidays when I was a teenager. In those days I’d have been grumbling outwardly about being forced to sit at a table to eat but even then, secretly delighting in the comforting food and normalcy of a family who would sit around asking one another mundane details about their day or week. I’d never had that in my life before.

I help serve lunch dishes to the table, which we all sit around, the kids included, and we eat as a family for the first time in years. I expected it to be awkward, strained, but it’s not at all. Conversation flows and I feel brighter than I have since Sarah left.

After we’ve eaten, Lila is the first to leave with her kids. After Dave and his fiancée leave, I stay to help clear up. My dad makes three coffees whilst I dry the dishes my mother is washing in the sink, then the three of us sit down at the table.

Finally, I can say what I came here to say.

‘I’m sorry to you both for how I’ve behaved all these years. I was a shitty kid and I know I let you down when I dropped out of university. Believe it or not, as a thirty-odd-year-old man, I’ve finally come to understand and appreciate everything you did for me. I’m sorry it’s taken so long.’

My parents look at each other, confused. Of course they are; I should have said these things years ago. I should’ve changed my ways by now and not let them down again, after everything they’ve done for me.

‘Charlie,’ my dad says, ‘you’ve never let us down. I overheard you earlier telling your brother about your new tour and TV news. You’ve taken everything life has thrown at you and turned it into something great.’

‘University wasn’t for you, darling. It’s not for everyone,’ my mother adds. ‘We respect your conviction in finding something you love and pursuing it and now you’re reaping the rewards.’

‘We aren’t disappointed in you, son. We’re proud of you. The only thing we wish is that we could see you more.’

I look at my dad and my jaw feels tight, my eyes feel dry, and I can’t swallow.

I look at my mother and she is reaching for a tissue from a box in the middle of the table and wiping her eyes.

That does it. I press my lips tightly together but I can’t stop myself from crying.

I don’t remember anyone ever saying that they are proud of me and me believing it. Never before today.

My mother gets up from her seat and comes around to my side of the table. She cuddles me from behind, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my head. The act is so maternal that it makes me cry more.

My dad reaches out to hold my hand and I hear him say, as he squeezes my fingers, ‘You’re a good man, Charlie. You’re a good man, son.’

I have every intention of getting back to my flat and flopping onto the futon, emotionally depleted.

Yet, when I arrive home and sit down, I am the exact opposite of depleted. I’m completely energized by doing something I should have done a long time ago and being blown away by the outcome.

My parents don’t think that I let them down. I feel like a barrier between me and them, which I created, has been removed.

What’s revolutionary is that I’m starting to believe that I’ve made something of myself. I’ll be headlining my own UK tour next year and I’ve been invited onto a comedy television show that I have respected and watched for years.

Maybe I’m not as big a disappointment as I’ve been telling myself.

And maybe it’s time that I emptied these goddamn boxes and decided to commit to something for a change, starting with the place I’m supposed to call home.

32

SARAH

I’ve been putting off taking the jar of Harrods cookies I bought for Danny’s mom, Greta, to her house. The thought of having to sit with her and talk to her about her son, the way we always do, when I have betrayed his memory, has been enough to keep me in hiding.

But she is Danny’s mom and she is alone these days, since her husband died three years ago. For Danny’s sake, I need to visit. If nothing else, the cookies don’t have an indefinite shelf life. I need to face the music.

Greta is sitting in her usual armchair in the bay window of her home in the suburbs. I’ve let myself in to save her the trouble of coming to the door because she has osteoporosis and recently walking even short distances is a struggle for her.

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