She nods. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I’m a little disappointed, though, that you’d struggle and possibly go through hardship because of pride. I don’t understand that. But life would be dull if everyone was the same.”
We sip our whiskies quietly, listening to the crash of the waves on the rocks outside. The sun is setting, and the room is flooded with a dull orange light.
I can’t explain how I feel to her because it’s beyond my ability to vocalize my feelings. Maybe there’s a tad of sexism in there—I’m a man, and deep down I feel it’s my duty to look after my family. Or perhaps it’s stubbornness, or shame, or a fear of having to admit I’ve failed. I can see she doesn’t understand, and maybe she’s even a little hurt that I won’t accept her help. But she’ll have to realize I am who I am, and I can’t change overnight for her.
“Why did your mom ring tonight?” she asks. “Is she okay?”
I blow out a long breath. “It’s hard to tell. She wanted to apologize to me. For making a scene again, and having the police come out. And for causing me any worry and trouble. She was sweet and sad, and it was quite hard to hear.”
“I can imagine. I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. I don’t really want to talk about it. It was difficult to listen to Mom crying as she apologized. She knows she’s been trouble for Izzy and me over the years. I’ve never blamed her for it, though. I suppose I could have done more to help her. Maybe I should have stayed at home and looked after her. But I don’t think either of us would have wanted that. Some things are just meant to be.
“Shall we watch a movie or something?” I ask.
She nods, so I turn on the TV, and we choose a light rom-com we haven’t seen. It doesn’t turn out to be all that, but it raises a few laughs in us, and when it’s done, we turn the lights out, lock the door, and go to bed.
I pull Poppy into my arms, her back against my chest, and nuzzle her ear. “Get some sleep,” I tell her. “I’ll be waking you early.”
She chuckles and looks over her shoulder. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I kiss her lips, and then we settle down for the night. Poppy falls asleep quickly, no doubt worn out by her busy day and our enthusiastic lovemaking earlier. But thoughts whiz around in my head, refusing to die down.
I think of Izzy, off on her honeymoon with Hal, and hope she’s having a good time. She’s also struggled, and she was single for years. I didn’t tell Poppy, but I feel partly responsible for that, because I warned Hal off her when they were teenagers, and again when he asked me to come and work at the Ark, so it’s my fault they took so long to get together. I want to make it up to Izzy, and this is the only way I know how—to take the responsibility of our mother off her shoulders, and let her get on with her life.
I think of my mother, alone in her room at the rehab center, and hope she’s starting to feel better. She’s been in emotional pain for a lot of her life, and she deserves some happiness.
Am I dumb to refuse to ask for help? Mom is my responsibility though, and mine alone. And I can’t see any other way around that.
I stare up at the stars glittering in the black velvet sky, and wait a long, long time for sleep to come.
Chapter Twenty
Poppy
I wake around five a.m. It’s dark, and Marc’s still asleep. I put my phone down after checking the time, wondering what woke me. I need to use the bathroom; I think that’s what did it. As quietly as I can, I get up, go in and pee, then come back out and go over to the window.
There’s a faint touch of color on the horizon, but the sun is almost two hours off rising, so it won’t be light for a while yet. I pick up Marc’s discarded T-shirt and pull it on, then tiptoe up the stairs to the viewing platform.
It’s coolish up here, and I shiver a little, but it’s so beautiful that I can’t help but lean against the glass and look out at the view. The light above me sweeps across the ocean, illuminating the black waves briefly as it passes. When it’s on the other side, I can see all the stars in the night sky.
It’s so odd to be standing here, almost on the edge of the world. The Pacific is so big—it covers a third of the Earth’s surface area. How thrilling it must have been to be an explorer, Magellan or Cook, setting sail without truly knowing what land was in front of you. Or to have been on one of the early Maori wakas, paddling across the ocean in search of a new home. There must have been a sense of freedom, and of excitement at a new beginning. I enjoyed traveling. I remember my OE with much fondness.