Somebody's Daughter--a moving journey of discovery, recovery and adoption Page 13

  Neither of us can look at the other.

  ‘We need a lawyer,’ Kevin says quietly. ‘You can have sole custody of the kids, I’ll have them every other weekend. I understand that they need to be with you.’

  I feel the panic rising in my chest, as it always did at the thought of someone leaving me. ‘Adopted people never leave,’ I had read it in a book years ago, ‘because we know what it feels like to be left. So we push as hard as we can, until people leave us.’

  I had felt angry at the time, the way that the author implied we were all the same. But now I could see the author had been right: I had pushed him so far away that he was left with no choice but to leave.

  ‘I’ll make it easy on you,’ he sneers. ‘I won’t mention your behaviour.’

  ‘It’s not what you think,’ I want to say out loud. ‘It’s about me, not you, I promise.’ But how can I explain this internal battle? I remain quiet, a weight now lying on my chest. I had thought that somehow we would be different from everyone else, that in spite of everything we could figure it out. Instead we had failed – I had failed.

  ‘I will never abandon you,’ my husband had said, holding me tight. ‘We’re a family, this is what it means to be family.’ I had felt so safe. How wrong I was.

  We call in the children later that afternoon and I hold the girls as we cry together. Our son stands, trying to make sense of his parents.

  ‘I’m leaving,’ their father says in a flat, cold voice.

  * * *

  On the first night without my husband I take a bath, pouring in carefully my daughters’ purple bubble bath. The liquid turns and rolls under the water, creating small bubbles. I step in and lean back against the cool surface of the bath, feeling the tension leave my body, my breath opening, stomach that was always so clenched releasing. My mind seems empty of all thought, frozen as though it has finally stilled. I stretch my legs, using my toes to adjust the hot water, until it almost burns. As I do so I feel years of built-up tension leaving my body.

  ‘Hello, lovey.’ It’s Cassie calling in a silly voice. ‘I got your text. You finally did it then?’

  ‘I didn’t do it, it was him,’ I reply.

  ‘Well, it’s what you wanted. How many more years could you keep living this way?’ she says half-jokingly. I can tell by her tone that she wants to make sure I’m okay.

  ‘I know,’ I whisper. ‘But what am I going to do now? I’m middle-aged.’

  ‘You are old, that’s true,’ she says. ‘And the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen. But you’re also what’s known as a cougar, you’re going to be fine.’ At this we both giggle. ‘You, my dear, are going to get on with life just as you always have.’

  ‘Yes, yes. Just one step at a time, I know,’ I agree, feeling a notch calmer.

  ‘And one other thing…’ Cassie says. ‘Next time don’t go for the nice personality, go for the man with the biggest dick.’

  ‘Can’t I have both?’ I laugh.

  ‘Don’t be greedy!’

  * * *

  I’m in the car with my kids. The girls are reading silently, and for a moment I feel proud. I wasn’t a bad parent under the circumstances.

  ‘Mummy, I always knew you would get divorced,’ my youngest, Anna, pipes up.

  In a second my contentment is crushed. ‘You did? How?’

  ‘You just don’t seem like the marrying type,’ she continues. She sounds much older than her eleven years.

  ‘The marrying type?’ Katie says loudly from behind her book. ‘What do you mean? She’s been married for years.’

  ‘She just isn’t the type,’ Anna snaps back to her sister. ‘She doesn’t like being bossed around. She stands up to Dad and he never liked that. She likes to do her own thing, sing in bands, and travel here and there.’

  She carries on talking as if I’m not there, barely pausing for breath. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Turning to me, she leans over to touch my arm and in the sweetest voice she says, ‘It’s okay, Mummy, I’m a strong independent woman too.’

  As we arrive back home and step out of the car she pauses in front of me.

  ‘I miss Grandma,’ she says suddenly. ‘Even though she was a little crazy, I miss her. I don’t think she would have been happy about you and Daddy getting a divorce,’ she adds, honestly.

  In fact I’d been wondering about that myself. I knew my mother would have been disappointed and blamed me as she often did when something went wrong in my life.

  ‘Mum,’ I had said a few years before, trying to defend myself as I told her about my troubles with Kevin. ‘Why do you always think it’s my fault?’

  She handed me a cup of tea.

  ‘I know how you are, Zara. You keep too much inside – you just can’t do that in a relationship.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I say, exasperated.

  ‘Men want to feel like kings. They need to be pampered… and other things.’ Her fair skin is reddening.

  At this I start laughing. ‘You mean sex, Mum.’

  ‘Don’t be so crude, Zara. Let’s face it, I’ve never had any problems with your father.’

  ‘I really don’t want to hear about your sex life. You two never have problems because you’re a slave disguised as a wife. That’s not me. I never could do everything a man says.’

  ‘Well, no wonder you’re having problems.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. I can’t pretend to be someone else just to make his life easier.’ I can hear the whining tone in my voice.

  ‘But that’s what a wife does, dear.’

  ‘That’s so depressing,’ I pout.

  ‘Not really,’ she says bluntly. ‘You just have to be practical. You have a roof over your head and a man with a good job, that’s more important than what you want.’

  I stare at my mother, taken aback. She has never spoken to me in this way before.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, Zara, I think you do! You’ve always put your own feelings first. You should be happy with what you have.’

  The image of my mother fades. My daughter Anna holds me tightly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, stroking her hair.

  ‘Sorry about what, Mama?’

  ‘That I couldn’t make the marriage work.’

  ‘Well, it’s your fault I can’t sleep at night now that Dad has left.’

  At least she’s being honest.

  ‘You’re right,’ I answer, ‘it is my fault.’

  Shrugging her shoulders, she hugs me tighter and then wanders off to her room.

  I’m steeped in guilt and shame. Kevin was right not to trust me. It was not that I wanted to break up our family, or anyone else’s, I’d been seduced again by the smiles of handsome men. But I didn’t want to leave Kevin for any of them, I just liked the attention, the chase, the lust. I had tried to justify my behaviour by saying I was lonely, that the gulf in our marriage was insurmountable. The truth was that the meaningless flirting left me feeling even lonelier.

  14

  London, Winter 2013

  I’m back in London. After spending the day with my father, I’m standing in front of Simon’s door, ringing the bell. I’m late.

  He opens the door, and as always, my heart flips in my chest when I see him.

  ‘Finally you’re here.’ He sweeps me into his arms and carries me inside, and suddenly he’s kissing me. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. Let me look at you.’

  I’m dressed simply, but with thigh-high stockings underneath.

  ‘You drive me crazy.’

  ‘And you drive me insane, for other reasons.’

  His hands are all over me. He lifts up my skirt, turns me around, and pushes me over the straight-backed chair in front of him so he has a good view of my bottom.

  ‘Don’t I even get a cup of tea?’ I ask.

  ‘Tea?’ he sniggers.

  ‘It’s been a long time. Don’t look too closely, things aren’t quite the same as they used to be.’

&nb
sp; ‘Zara, for goodness’ sake shut up!’ He pushes himself against me. ‘You’ve been a very bad girl, keeping me waiting like this. You deserve a good spanking.’

  ‘Oh, not that again! It’s you that should be spanked.’

  ‘How can you still do this to me after all these years?’

  ‘Slow down,’ I demand.

  Soon we’re lying down on his bed as he pushes himself inside me, kissing me with his whole mouth. Later, we fall away from each other and lie side by side. He is breathless.

  ‘You’re out of shape, old man.’ I smile, looking at his face.

  He smiles naughtily. ‘You really are asking for it…’

  ‘You’re sick in the head,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, really?’ he laughs. ‘And you’re the epitome of mental health. That’s why you keep coming back for more.’

  That’s how it started. I had said to myself that I needed to visit him just one more time, but once we had made love I couldn’t seem to say no. We started seeing each other in America and in London.

  * * *

  Months after our first meeting, I’m in bed with Simon, watching TV. It’s a detective show. The husband onscreen is promising his wife that he’s not having an affair. He’s lying. An uncomfortable silence hangs between us. We had never used the word ‘affair’ – Simon thought that if he never said it, it meant we weren’t having one. As the scene is playing out, he says, ‘The wife always knows.’

  ‘Oh yes, we women always know. We’re smarter than men about these things, and better liars,’ I reply.

  ‘If my girlfriend ever found out, I would blame you, say you made me do it.’ He is smiling now.

  ‘I know,’ I respond. ‘You’d throw me out in a second to save yourself. How sad is that?’

  ‘What’s sad?’ He pulls me towards him.

  ‘That even though you would disown me in a second, I still come back.’ My body is tingling again as I feel him harden next to me.

  ‘I would miss you if you didn’t.’ His hand slides between my legs.

  We sleep with our arms intertwined, just as we’ve always done. In my dreams I see myself and Kevin, driving in his car; Samuel is in the backseat. We look so young. I awake in a cold sweat, Kevin’s name on my lips. I lie in the dark for a moment.

  ‘Zara,’ Simon whispers. ‘Come here.’

  When I lay my head on his chest, he puts his arm around me. I breathe in his scent and feel myself relax. I had been starved of touch for so long. If this was the only place I could get it, then it would have to suffice for now.

  I give myself to him, knowing that soon I will have to stop. Soon, but not right now – I’m not ready for another loss.

  * * *

  We spend the next day walking around Camden Market, picking up trinkets. Simon walked on the opposite side of the street from me, though, paranoid someone would see us together. We would bump into each other at market stalls as if by accident. But once in the car, he can’t keep his hands off me.

  ‘Simon, you’re like a dirty old man.’

  In his bedroom, I slip off my clothes and pace around the room, swaying my hips. ‘So, mister, you want this ass?’ I say in a mock New York accent. ‘You can’t afford it. I want cash. Cash only, you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ he says, playing along.

  ‘You want a picture? That’ll cost you more. Jewellery is fine too.’

  I walk over to him and straddle his hips.

  ‘Cash first.’ I hold out my hand.

  He rolls his eyes in amusement.

  ‘You owe me for treating me so awfully when I was young. How could you do that?’

  ‘That was twenty years ago!’ He’s laughing as I pin his arms above his head.

  ‘I don’t care. You deserve to be punished.’ I tease him, enjoying every minute of it. I kiss him on his full mouth. That night we’re lying together in the dark.

  ‘Simon,’ I begin tentatively, ‘don’t you think it’s weird that we still like each other?’

  ‘Not really,’ he says.

  ‘I usually go off men so fast, and yet with you I haven’t.’

  ‘That’s because you don’t live with me.’ His voice is gentle. ‘But I don’t want you to get confused. I can’t give you any more than this, my girlfriend would be devastated if she knew.’ He has become quiet, serious.

  ‘So stop,’ I say, a little defensively.

  Holding me tighter, he whispers in my ear, ‘Stop seeing you? But who else would dress up in these ridiculous outfits for me?’ He pauses. ‘I do think about you when we’re not together. You know that, don’t you?’

  ‘No,’ I whisper back, ‘I don’t know, because you never tell me.’

  Kissing the top of my head, he says softly, ‘Go to sleep, crazy girl.’

  The next morning, I tell him that I’m heading for a divorce. I can hear he’s angry.

  ‘I told you to stay married and keep seeing me. I’ve told you, I can’t give you any more than what we have now.’

  His words make me feel empty, but I don’t express it. Why did I think it would be different this time? I’m angry with myself for being back in this with him.

  I call James. ‘Your self-esteem is back in the toilet,’ he tells me frankly. ‘Zara, he doesn’t care about you the way you want him to. He’s made that clear. You just have to face the divorce head on.’ He is gentle; I know he’s right.

  ‘So, no annihilating myself with drugs until it’s over then?’ I laugh sardonically.

  ‘No,’ he says. ‘You’ve lost that right. Just keep your knickers on, stay away from bars, and trust that a higher power will carry you through. You’ve been through worse. Just take things one moment at a time.’

  15

  New York, March 2014

  Friends had told me that they felt great relieved when they finally got divorced, but it’s different for me. I’m sitting before a judge, my soon-to-be ex at a table nearby. The judge reminds me of my father, who had sat in the same position for so many years, and I feel afraid. I feel tears begin to appear from the moment I sit down, as they read out the date of our marriage, the names of our three children. All the good memories flash in my mind, the excitement of our wedding, and the joy of meeting each new baby.

  I glance at Kevin. His face is expressionless, emotionless; he is good at hiding what he feels. I wish so much that I could switch off that part of me, but I can’t. The judge bangs his gavel and the sound echoes through the chamber. In the blink of an eye, eighteen years of marriage have come to an end.

  ‘I thought you wanted this divorce,’ my lawyer says as she hands me a tissue.

  ‘No one wants a divorce, sometimes life doesn’t give you any choice,’ I say.

  As Kevin and I walk to our separate cars, I wonder how long it’s going to take to get used to being single again. I sit for what feels like hours, just holding onto the steering wheel, looking out into the distance at what my life has become. As I work up the courage to drive away, Cassie calls – always when I need her.

  ‘So, how did it go? I can’t believe you’re really divorced. Watch out, single men of America!’

  ‘It was awful,’ I respond. This time I can’t laugh at her jokes. ‘I’m scared,’ I add. I sound like a child.

  ‘We’re all scared. You’ll be okay, it’s time to stop living in half-relationships,’ she tells me. She is being strong for me.

  ‘I know, I know,’ I reply.

  ‘Maybe it’s time to start doing something differently,’ she says gently.

  ‘Thank you, therapist Cassie. I will take that into consideration.’

  Wrapping myself in my blankets that night, looking out at my skylight window, the moon shining in spreads a little light on my bed. I think about my mum looking down from the stars and wonder what she would have made of all of this. Falling into a restless sleep, I dream that I’m walking down the road. It’s so cold, my face is freezing, my skin aching… I rummage for a moment in my deep coat pockets for a handkerchief; p
ulling one out, blowing my nose, I notice how soft the material is, looking carefully at the handkerchief. When I see that it’s one of my father’s white dirty handkerchiefs I let out a sound of surprise, wondering how it had found its way into my pocket.

  * * *

  The next morning, the first day of the rest of my life, it’s snowing, taking us all by surprise. Despite Cassie’s words, a veil of depression is lying over me. I know I have to get moving, but all I want to do is stay curled up in bed, feeling sorry for myself.

  The house is still, the children asleep. I haven’t told them that the divorce is final. Do they need to know? I ask myself. Putting on my coat and boots, I pad carefully across the snow-blanketed garden, stopping in the middle. Turning my face upwards, I let the snowflakes fall on my face. I find myself shouting to the sky.

  ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this! We were supposed to grow old together! I’ve fucked it all up, Mum!’ I hear myself yelling. ‘Mum, where are you?’

  My words are muffled by the wind.

  ‘I don’t know what to do. Mum, what do I do?’

  I close my eyes.

  ‘Then do nothing,’ I hear her say back to me.

  But I don’t know how, I think.

  ‘You will learn. You have to trust, my love,’ she whispers. As I open my eyes, I’m sure I catch a glimpse of her face, high up amidst the snow.

  I spend much of the next few days in bed, a deep depression enveloping me. Each morning, I somehow manage to get the girls ready and drop them off at school, but as soon as I’m home I either lie on the bathroom floor crying, or curl up inside my bed. I can feel bile rising in my stomach. After all, as Kevin told me, I had asked for this. I long to go back to England. I have no regular work and it’s filling me with anxiety. Recently, I was let go at a school where I was working as a pre-school music teacher. I loved being with those little children. They kept me sane and in the moment during those days leading up to the divorce no matter how I felt, when I walked into school they would be so happy to see me. Their hugs and chatter lifted my spirits.