Read Online What Goes Around... by Carol Marinelli - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Marinelli
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allowed?’ I ask, because it seems a bit strange and I don't even know if I want to see him. I never really expected to be offered. Rose even makes me smile as she takes my arm and leads me inside.
‘Perk of the job,’ she says.
He looks older.
Dead too.
But the first thing I notice, as I walk in there, is how much older he looks - he was in his late forties when he left me – so of cou rse he would look older, he’s coming up for sixty now.
I haven’t seen him for ages. I’ve seen photos but I haven’t seen him in the flesh for years, and I mean years. Not since Bonny left for Australia. He and Lucy had just got married, (I think because she was pregnant – she was always determined to get that ring) and Charlotte must be eleven or twelve now.
I look at his skin and it’s a waxy blue and I don’t want to touch him.
I just stand there and remember all the hurt.
‘What you did to me…’ I start. I feel the shame again and then I stop because it's done with now, dealt with I hope – all those nights I poured my heart out to a journal must surely count for something?
I look at the man who just walked away and started a new life.
What if I’d gone?
What if I’d been the one to walk away?
He knew I never would – that’s the difference between us.
He could walk away and just leave it all behind, not caring what it did to me. I poured my terrified heart out to those pages. Divorce wasn’t as common then. I just felt so ashamed, like I’d failed – I guess I had.
But I can't be angry any more and maybe finally there’s the forgiveness I’ve been searching for all these years.
After all, I’m still here.
Still standing.
‘Look after our girls,’ I say to him, because even if he was a useless husband he did love our girls. I believe in heaven but I don't know if he’s got there yet, or if he’s hovering around, but if there is anything he can do , I ask it of him now. I'm scared for my girls sometimes. Eleanor’s life’s a mess, and even though they live far away, I worry about our other girls too. I look down and I’m holding his cold hand and having a conversation that parents should have about their children. I’m sharing the pain and the fears - which is another thing he denied me by walking out the door. ‘Look after our girls,’ I say and then I feel guilty, because it's not just about my girls. I think of little Charlotte and how much she looks like him, how she actually looks like one of mine and I revise my request. ‘Look after all your girls,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t know where you are but, if you can, will you please look out for your girls.’
I feel drained after I’ve seen him.
In a way that I never have before, it’s as if all my energy has left with him.
I'm so tired I cannot tell you as I trudge up to maternity. I hear my phone but I'm too wiped to even look, it will be Lex or Bonny or Paul or… I just don’t want to deal with whoever it is now. I’ve got Eleanor to cope with and so I turn it off and walk into the delivery room and see we’re just moments away from the baby being born.
Eleanor is screaming, I’ve never been present at one of my girls’ labours before and I don’t recommend it. I try to encourage and say the right thing. I try not to let my fear show in my voice and then I hear myself cheer as I watch her slither out onto my daughter's stomach and then hear her cry but Eleanor lies back silent.
‘Do you want to cut the cord?’ I'm offered , and my hands are shaking as I do it. Even though I’ve done it so many times it's different when it's one of yours.
And she is one of mine.
They whizz her off to be checked and she’s a bit small but doing well.
They tell me all this, not because they know I’m a nurse and I’ve done my midwifery too, but because Eleanor is refusing to look at her. Eleanor is lying with her eyes closed and when she refuses to take her baby, they hand her to me.
She is so small and light
‘Perk of the job,’ she says.
He looks older.
Dead too.
But the first thing I notice, as I walk in there, is how much older he looks - he was in his late forties when he left me – so of cou rse he would look older, he’s coming up for sixty now.
I haven’t seen him for ages. I’ve seen photos but I haven’t seen him in the flesh for years, and I mean years. Not since Bonny left for Australia. He and Lucy had just got married, (I think because she was pregnant – she was always determined to get that ring) and Charlotte must be eleven or twelve now.
I look at his skin and it’s a waxy blue and I don’t want to touch him.
I just stand there and remember all the hurt.
‘What you did to me…’ I start. I feel the shame again and then I stop because it's done with now, dealt with I hope – all those nights I poured my heart out to a journal must surely count for something?
I look at the man who just walked away and started a new life.
What if I’d gone?
What if I’d been the one to walk away?
He knew I never would – that’s the difference between us.
He could walk away and just leave it all behind, not caring what it did to me. I poured my terrified heart out to those pages. Divorce wasn’t as common then. I just felt so ashamed, like I’d failed – I guess I had.
But I can't be angry any more and maybe finally there’s the forgiveness I’ve been searching for all these years.
After all, I’m still here.
Still standing.
‘Look after our girls,’ I say to him, because even if he was a useless husband he did love our girls. I believe in heaven but I don't know if he’s got there yet, or if he’s hovering around, but if there is anything he can do , I ask it of him now. I'm scared for my girls sometimes. Eleanor’s life’s a mess, and even though they live far away, I worry about our other girls too. I look down and I’m holding his cold hand and having a conversation that parents should have about their children. I’m sharing the pain and the fears - which is another thing he denied me by walking out the door. ‘Look after our girls,’ I say and then I feel guilty, because it's not just about my girls. I think of little Charlotte and how much she looks like him, how she actually looks like one of mine and I revise my request. ‘Look after all your girls,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t know where you are but, if you can, will you please look out for your girls.’
I feel drained after I’ve seen him.
In a way that I never have before, it’s as if all my energy has left with him.
I'm so tired I cannot tell you as I trudge up to maternity. I hear my phone but I'm too wiped to even look, it will be Lex or Bonny or Paul or… I just don’t want to deal with whoever it is now. I’ve got Eleanor to cope with and so I turn it off and walk into the delivery room and see we’re just moments away from the baby being born.
Eleanor is screaming, I’ve never been present at one of my girls’ labours before and I don’t recommend it. I try to encourage and say the right thing. I try not to let my fear show in my voice and then I hear myself cheer as I watch her slither out onto my daughter's stomach and then hear her cry but Eleanor lies back silent.
‘Do you want to cut the cord?’ I'm offered , and my hands are shaking as I do it. Even though I’ve done it so many times it's different when it's one of yours.
And she is one of mine.
They whizz her off to be checked and she’s a bit small but doing well.
They tell me all this, not because they know I’m a nurse and I’ve done my midwifery too, but because Eleanor is refusing to look at her. Eleanor is lying with her eyes closed and when she refuses to take her baby, they hand her to me.
She is so small and light
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