I could begin by being responsive to Kate's needs.
"What can I get you, my darling?" I asked. I wondered if that would be mature enough for James. I must stop!
He was right, I was wrong.
I tried to calm the crying child in my arms.
"Clean diaper, perchance? Or can I interest you in a bottle? And we have a wonderful selection of attention and affection. All are available. You only have to ask."
But no, I was even doing that wrong. According to James, people shouldn't even have to ask me for what they wanted. If I was really selfless I should know.
Just to be on the safe side I gave her all of the above. I changed her diaper, fed her and told her she was more beautiful than Claudia Schiffer.
Mum, Anna and Helen materialized in the room. They crept in cautiously, wondering how crazy I had gone.
"Oh, hi," I said when I saw the first tentative head appearing around the door. "Come in, come in. Sorry about that little display in the hall. I was upset. I had no right to take it out on you three."
"Oh, that's fine then," said Helen. The three of them marched in and took up residence on the bed while I tended to Kate and told them the story of my evening.
"So, in a funny way, knowing how difficult I was makes the fact that he left me a bit easier," I told them. "You know, at least it makes sense."
"Claire," said Mum slowly, "I'm sure that you couldn't have been as bad as he makes out."
"I know, I don't understand that either," I admitted. "But when I told him that, he said that was exactly the way he would have expected me to react."
There really wasn't anything anyone else could say.
James had me boxed in good and neatly.
306
That night was terrible. As bad as the early days when James had first left me. When the others finally left, having given up trying to reassure me that I couldn't be that bad, I couldn't sleep. I lay flat on my back, staring into the darkness. Questions buzzed around in my head.
This had all come as a terrible shock. I'd never known that I was so selfish and immature. No one else ever complained before. Granted, I was high- spirited. And maybe a bit noisy and lively. But I honestly thought I was considerate of other people's feelings.
The thought crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, James was perhaps exaggerating how bad I had been. Was even making it up. I dismissed that idea again almost as quickly. That was just me trying to escape the blame. Why would James do something like that if it wasn't true? As he'd said himself--and his words kept going around and around in my head--"If I had been happy, why would I have left?"
I admit that I absolutely hated being wrong. I was really bad at graciously admitting that I was in error. I felt burning, raw, exposed, mortified. I had been so smug. I'd thought that I had right on my side. It was very humbling to find that I hadn't.
Even when I was a little girl and didn't get all my spelling words right at school, I found it very hard to bow my head and swallow and say, "You are right and I am wrong."
Well, practice makes perfect.
I finally slept.
307
thirty
Dad woke me the following morning by thrusting a huge manila envelope under my nose. "Here," he said ill-temperedly. "Take this. I'm late for work."
"Thanks, Dad," I said sleepily, dragging myself up in the bed as I pushed my hair out of my eyes.
I looked at the letter. It had a London postmark. With a little cold thrill, I realized it was the deed to the apartment and all the other documents that James had asked to be sent over.
I toyed with the idea of ringing the Vatican to report a miracle. Surely nothing had ever arrived from London to Dublin that quickly ever before?
I toyed with the idea of calling James instead.
It might be better if I called James.
Though I'd probably get a better reception at the Vatican.
I found the number of the LiffeySide in the phone book. Some woman answered. I asked to speak to James.
She told me to hold on a moment while she went to get him. While I was waiting I could hear noises in the background that sounded like machine gun fire. Now, granted, it might only have been the washing machine, but if you knew the LiffeySide and the street it was on, you'd be more inclined to put your money on it being machine gun fire.
"Hello," said James. He sounded all officious and important.
"James, it's me," I told him.
308
"Claire," he said attempting to sound friendly. "I was just about to call you."
"Were you?" I asked politely, wondering why that was. Had he just re- membered some other awful way I used to treat him? Had he omitted some important criticism about my behavior in public that he had meant to tell me last night?
Now, now, I warned myself. Be selfless and adult about this.
"Would you believe it?" he asked disbelievingly. "Not one newspaper shop in this city opens before nine o'clock. I've been trying to get the FT since I got up, not a chance."
"Well, well, would you believe that?" I said, feeling a surge of irritation. But I tried to hide it. I had to bear in mind that although the Financial Times wasn't important to me, it was important to another human being, namely James, so, as an altruistic, caring, empathetic person, I should care.
"Was that why were you just about to ring me?" I asked. "To tell me that?"
"No, no, no. Why was it? Oh yes," he said, remembering. "I wanted to see if you were feeling all right after last night. I realize that I may have been a little bit...well...hard on you. I can see now that you had no idea that you were behaving so selfishly and thoughtlessly. The truth may have come as a bit of a shock to you."
"Well, a bit," I admitted. The confusion started up again. I felt like a suspect being interrogated by two policemen, one nice one and one nasty one. Just when I'd gotten used to one of them being nasty to me, the other starts by being extra nice and making me want to cry and hug him. Except there was only one James. But the effect was the same. Now that he was being nice to me I wanted to, yes, you guessed it, cry and hug him.
"You weren't deliberately awful," he went on. "You just weren't aware."
"No," I sniffed. "I wasn't."
I was so glad that he was being nice to me at last. I could have cried with relief.
"What can I get you, my darling?" I asked. I wondered if that would be mature enough for James. I must stop!
He was right, I was wrong.
I tried to calm the crying child in my arms.
"Clean diaper, perchance? Or can I interest you in a bottle? And we have a wonderful selection of attention and affection. All are available. You only have to ask."
But no, I was even doing that wrong. According to James, people shouldn't even have to ask me for what they wanted. If I was really selfless I should know.
Just to be on the safe side I gave her all of the above. I changed her diaper, fed her and told her she was more beautiful than Claudia Schiffer.
Mum, Anna and Helen materialized in the room. They crept in cautiously, wondering how crazy I had gone.
"Oh, hi," I said when I saw the first tentative head appearing around the door. "Come in, come in. Sorry about that little display in the hall. I was upset. I had no right to take it out on you three."
"Oh, that's fine then," said Helen. The three of them marched in and took up residence on the bed while I tended to Kate and told them the story of my evening.
"So, in a funny way, knowing how difficult I was makes the fact that he left me a bit easier," I told them. "You know, at least it makes sense."
"Claire," said Mum slowly, "I'm sure that you couldn't have been as bad as he makes out."
"I know, I don't understand that either," I admitted. "But when I told him that, he said that was exactly the way he would have expected me to react."
There really wasn't anything anyone else could say.
James had me boxed in good and neatly.
306
That night was terrible. As bad as the early days when James had first left me. When the others finally left, having given up trying to reassure me that I couldn't be that bad, I couldn't sleep. I lay flat on my back, staring into the darkness. Questions buzzed around in my head.
This had all come as a terrible shock. I'd never known that I was so selfish and immature. No one else ever complained before. Granted, I was high- spirited. And maybe a bit noisy and lively. But I honestly thought I was considerate of other people's feelings.
The thought crossed my mind that maybe, just maybe, James was perhaps exaggerating how bad I had been. Was even making it up. I dismissed that idea again almost as quickly. That was just me trying to escape the blame. Why would James do something like that if it wasn't true? As he'd said himself--and his words kept going around and around in my head--"If I had been happy, why would I have left?"
I admit that I absolutely hated being wrong. I was really bad at graciously admitting that I was in error. I felt burning, raw, exposed, mortified. I had been so smug. I'd thought that I had right on my side. It was very humbling to find that I hadn't.
Even when I was a little girl and didn't get all my spelling words right at school, I found it very hard to bow my head and swallow and say, "You are right and I am wrong."
Well, practice makes perfect.
I finally slept.
307
thirty
Dad woke me the following morning by thrusting a huge manila envelope under my nose. "Here," he said ill-temperedly. "Take this. I'm late for work."
"Thanks, Dad," I said sleepily, dragging myself up in the bed as I pushed my hair out of my eyes.
I looked at the letter. It had a London postmark. With a little cold thrill, I realized it was the deed to the apartment and all the other documents that James had asked to be sent over.
I toyed with the idea of ringing the Vatican to report a miracle. Surely nothing had ever arrived from London to Dublin that quickly ever before?
I toyed with the idea of calling James instead.
It might be better if I called James.
Though I'd probably get a better reception at the Vatican.
I found the number of the LiffeySide in the phone book. Some woman answered. I asked to speak to James.
She told me to hold on a moment while she went to get him. While I was waiting I could hear noises in the background that sounded like machine gun fire. Now, granted, it might only have been the washing machine, but if you knew the LiffeySide and the street it was on, you'd be more inclined to put your money on it being machine gun fire.
"Hello," said James. He sounded all officious and important.
"James, it's me," I told him.
308
"Claire," he said attempting to sound friendly. "I was just about to call you."
"Were you?" I asked politely, wondering why that was. Had he just re- membered some other awful way I used to treat him? Had he omitted some important criticism about my behavior in public that he had meant to tell me last night?
Now, now, I warned myself. Be selfless and adult about this.
"Would you believe it?" he asked disbelievingly. "Not one newspaper shop in this city opens before nine o'clock. I've been trying to get the FT since I got up, not a chance."
"Well, well, would you believe that?" I said, feeling a surge of irritation. But I tried to hide it. I had to bear in mind that although the Financial Times wasn't important to me, it was important to another human being, namely James, so, as an altruistic, caring, empathetic person, I should care.
"Was that why were you just about to ring me?" I asked. "To tell me that?"
"No, no, no. Why was it? Oh yes," he said, remembering. "I wanted to see if you were feeling all right after last night. I realize that I may have been a little bit...well...hard on you. I can see now that you had no idea that you were behaving so selfishly and thoughtlessly. The truth may have come as a bit of a shock to you."
"Well, a bit," I admitted. The confusion started up again. I felt like a suspect being interrogated by two policemen, one nice one and one nasty one. Just when I'd gotten used to one of them being nasty to me, the other starts by being extra nice and making me want to cry and hug him. Except there was only one James. But the effect was the same. Now that he was being nice to me I wanted to, yes, you guessed it, cry and hug him.
"You weren't deliberately awful," he went on. "You just weren't aware."
"No," I sniffed. "I wasn't."
I was so glad that he was being nice to me at last. I could have cried with relief.
