It’s the very last dancing session before Edie’s party. The party itself has now been relocated to Briarwood, after much discussion with the planners and the birthday girl herself.
By ‘much discussion’, I mean the twenty seconds it took for Edie to clasp her hands together in delight, pronounce she was fit to swoon at the very thought, and demand smelling salts to revive her. Once she’d made her feelings clear, the rest of us would move mountains to make it happen – there aren’t many Edie Mays in the world, and if you’re lucky enough to have one, you need to keep them happy.
Cherie and Laura have gone into organisational over-drive, and although I’d normally be involved, they’ve obviously had some top-level carrot cake meeting and decided that they’ll do it all without me, as I have enough on my plate.
I’m grateful, because they’re really not wrong. Mum’s mental state has been erratic since she got home, and we’re all hoping it’s still because of the accident and the infection. She’s had entire days where even my pink hair doesn’t work, and where she suffers from spells of paranoia so vivid that she becomes terrified even in her own home.
On the days she has been more like herself, she’s struggled to find words for the simplest of things, and has been confounded by such activities as making tea, brushing her teeth, and putting her shoes on. It’s horrible to watch as she suffers, so obviously embarrassed and confused, lost in a private torture that we can only imagine.
She reads and re-reads her old notebooks incessantly, as though trying to find her way out of a maze, looking for clues as to who she is and who we are and how we should all be relating to each other.
The only bright spot has been her becoming obsessed with a TV show about American football called Friday Night Lights. She’s sucked us all into her evil web with this, and I even caught Van shedding a tear after poor Tim Riggins got his heart broken. Mum declared after that episode that she was in love with Tim Riggins, and if ever he was in the neighbourhood, she’d kidnap him and lock him in the shed. Luckily, he’s fictional, and lives in Texas.
Auburn is moving things along with the pharmacy and seems excited about it. She hasn’t quite recovered from the night Mum had her accident, and I think is possibly even more affected by it than me. It seems to have knocked her confidence completely – I’d already made a vow to myself that I wouldn’t be leaving Mum alone with her anytime soon, and she is totally on board with that. She doesn’t want to be left alone with her – it’s like she doesn’t trust herself any more.
I suppose it will all take time to settle down, and maybe we’ll find our balance again in the future – but with Alzheimer’s, it’s hard to anticipate a time when there will be any balance at all.
Van is making himself useful in any number of ways – he’s taken over the garden and veggie patch completely, installed a rain butt and several bird feeders, and has been doing jobs around the cottage that I hadn’t even noticed needing doing, like fixing leaky taps and oiling gate posts and putting new coat hooks up so Mum can see all her jackets without having to root through them all to find the one that takes her fancy.
I think it’s his way of contributing to a situation that still makes him deeply uneasy. Of all of us, he seems the most disturbed when Mum has a bad episode. Again, it will take time – although I’m not sure how much of that we have.
I heard him today, out in the garden, on his phone. The kitchen window was open and he didn’t know he was being listened to. He was talking to the airline about his ticket to Tanzania, so I have the feeling he might be leaving us sooner rather than later. I walked away as soon as I heard him – that’s his business, and I’ve tried hard not to get used to having him around anyway. I need to accept his help while he’s here, but not become dependent on it.
He’s at the café tonight, along with Mum and Auburn, and everyone else who is about to graduate from Zelda and Mateo’s Strictly masterclass. The three of them are set up at a table in the corner, along with Katie and Saul. Saul has clambered up onto Van’s lap, and seems determined to stay there. Van, who I don’t ever remember being especially patient with kids younger than him – by which I mean me – has obviously changed. His years living abroad, and working in a school, have left him softer, more responsive.
I’ve been helping Laura and Cherie set up the refreshments, and in all honesty can’t wait to get the night over with. Mainly because of Tom.
I haven’t seen him alone since the day he visited me at the cottage. Life has been both stupidly busy and stupidly tedious at the same time. I’ve done a couple of shifts at the café, with Mum there, and a few small cleaning jobs that she’s come along to as well. She’s not wanted to go back to the day centre yet, and I’m not going to push her – hopefully she will at some point.
He’s called into the café a few times, or met Matt there for dog training sessions. There was a breakthrough with Rick Grimes when they finally exposed him to Midgebo, and even a bouncy black lab didn’t push him into throat-tearing mode. We all watched over the fence by the field as Matt took the younger dog in, on a lead and well-controlled, and introduced him to Rick.
Rick clearly wasn’t overjoyed with the whole experience – but he remained in sit position, Tom’s hand on his head to reassure him, and managed to at least ignore Midgebo. No reaction at all is obviously much better than a reaction that involves bloodshed, and Tom was delighted. He even hugged Matt, which both of them regretted about one second in.
Other than these communal encounters, I’ve simply not seen him. He’s called around at the cottage a couple of times, but I’ve always been with Mum or Van or Auburn, and we’ve not had the opportunity to talk properly at all. The way my mood has been, that’s probably for the best.
I just feel like so much of the joy has been knocked out of me right now, and I can’t find a way to get it back. The easy banter we used to share feels more strained; the casual touches that used to thrill me now make me feel awkward; the intimacy and closeness that once brought me to life now terrify me.
As seems to be my mantra these days, it’s going to take time – but for now, I can’t deal with anything more than my home life and my work. I hope that one day, I’ll be able to look back on my time with Tom, and smile. Be able to feel my heart soar like it did that night. To remember it in all its glory, and revel in it.
But for now, none of that is happening – because every time I do let my mind drift in that dangerous direction, it automatically fast forwards through time, to finding my mum.
I don’t know when – or even if – I’ll feel differently, and I certainly don’t expect Tom to hang around like a devoted puppy, waiting for that mythical time to come. I don’t know what I expect from him, and that might be why I feel so tense and nervous the minute I see him slip through the café doors.
The room is packed, and Zelda has set up salsa music. I see my mum get up and do a few moves by her table – which is impressive given the size of her mighty boot.
Tom, as usual, sneaks in as though he’s hoping nobody notices him – which is silly when you consider the fact that he’s easily the tallest person in the room. I see him slink off to the side, and pretend he’s interested in cupcakes, when actually he’s just trying to be inconspicuous.
I see him cast his eyes around the room, and know he’s looking for me, and my heart breaks a little for him. I wave, and head in his direction – I might be confused about our relationship, but I’m not made of stone.
‘Yo,’ I say, grinning at him. ‘Salsa tonight. Got those snake hips ready?’
‘My snake hips were born ready,’ he replies. ‘Ready to dance extremely badly. I see your mum’s giving it a good shake, despite a fractured ankle.’
I glance over at her, and have to smile. She’s doing the steps with one foot, the other planted steady, swivelling her body in time to the music. Van is jigging Saul up and down on his lap, and I can see them both giggling.
‘Yeah, well,’ I say, turning back to him. ‘She always did have moves like Jagger. How have you been? I’m sorry I’ve been so … busy.’
He shakes his head, dismissing it, but I know he’s pretending. I know he must be confused, and hurt, trying to understand it all. Everything changed so quickly, both our heads are still spinning.
‘That’s okay. I’ve been busy too. Moving on with the work at Briarwood, getting the place ready for Edie’s party, planning world domination. The usual stuff. Are you all ready for the event of the decade?’
We’re making small talk, and it sucks. This man means so much more to me than small talk – but it feels like all I can give him at the moment.
‘Oh yes. The dresses are made. Anton has a big ribbon tied around his neck. Mum loved her necklace, by the way – she’s barely taken it off. It goes perfectly with the frock, so if she does a runner during the party, she won’t get far.’
He nods, then looks over at her again, and smiles.
‘That’s good. I want her to be safe. And I want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you? I want you to be happy with me, but … well, if not, I’m a big boy. Don’t beat yourself up about all of this. You’re carrying enough of a load at the moment without adding me to the list. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll try to make it happen.’
Just like that, he leaps out of small talk and into big talk. Big talk that isn’t going to make either of us feel like getting our salsa on.
I reach out, stroke his arm, and wait until he looks back at me.
‘Thank you,’ I say, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘For everything. And in all honesty I don’t know what I need. For someone to find a cure for Alzheimer’s. For world peace. For someone to stop Mateo doing a bump and grind with Edie. I don’t know. Tom, I don’t regret anything that happened between us, I don’t want you to think that – but for now, I think I just need a friend. Do you think you can manage that, or is too much to ask?’
I bite my lip as I wait for him to respond. I would totally get it if he decides it is, and walks right out the door.
Instead, he gives me a quick hug, and replies: ‘A friend … well, I’ve not got much experience of that kind of thing, but I’ve seen examples on TV. I’ll give it my best shot – as long as you let me be Joey.’
‘I think,’ I say, laughing, ‘that you’re all three of them – geeky like Ross, funny like Chandler, and sexy like Joey.’
He swaggers away, gives me a thumbs up, and drawls, ‘How you doin’?’ as he disappears into a mass of uncoordinated Latin kings and queens.
I know he doesn’t mean it. He couldn’t quite hide that brief glimmer of heart-wrenching pain when I dropped the ‘F’ word on him. But he’s trying – he’s faking it, just for me, and I love him even more for it.