“That might have just been because she could see it was a bad match,” I suggested, trying not to condemn Valerie without knowing her better.
“It was because dad was serious about her,” Emma insisted. “She hates you, too.”
“I got that memo, thanks.” I closed my eyes and leaned back. I hoped we never went back to New York; I liked the hot tub too much.
“Don’t let mom bully you or intimidate you,” Emma advised. “I love her, but that woman can be vicious. Just ignore her, don’t let her bait you, and don’t give her any information about your relationship with my dad.”
“Okay, now you’re sounding paranoid.” I forced myself to laugh. But Emma wouldn’t be telling me this stuff if she didn’t really believe her mom was a threat.
Well, the best way to neutralize a threat would be to remain unthreatened.
“She’s done things in the past. I don’t know what her motivation was, but... promise you’ll never tell dad that I told you this?”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure I wanted to actually hear what Emma was about to tell me.
“Mum took Elizabeth out for lunch to ‘celebrate her engagement’ and told Elizabeth some outrageous lies about dad. Elizabeth came home and they got into a huge fight. It was absolutely ridiculous garbage about how he’s allegedly gay or something and slept with my uncle Stephen before he’d dated mum. Totally unbelievable bullshit, but Elizabeth felt hugely betrayed and came home and they almost called off the wedding.”
I opened my eyes to stare up at the ceiling and its shimmering mosaic of ancient Roman ladies bathing. From a past conversation between Neil and Rudy, I’d gathered that there had been some involvement between Neil and Valerie’s brother Stephen, but Emma wouldn’t want to hear it. Neil was clearly not out to his daughter about the fact he was bisexual, and it wasn’t my place to do the outing. “Considering how that relationship ended, maybe it would have been for the best?”
“No kidding.” Emma sighed and lifted her toes out of the water to wiggle them. “Just... be careful. I love my mum. But it’s like she has some mean streak in her that can’t stand to see my dad happy.”
“Because she still loves him?”
“I don’t think she does. She has Bertie, and they’ve been together for ages. I don’t think it’s a matter of wanting my father back, but punishing him for not wanting her.” Emma tilted her head. “Sad, really. I think my father deserves to be happy.”
“Well, I hope I make him happy.” There wasn’t much more I could say to that.
“You do.” She considered a moment. “I don’t know why, because you’re simply awful.”
I splashed her, and our conversation devolved into juvenile water-based combat.
It was strange, but somehow, in a single day, my contentious relationship with Emma had become a refuge of solace.
Emma went to bed long before I did. I was still so wounded and confused by the exchange with Neil and Valerie and the lawyer that I couldn’t sleep.
I felt like such an asshole for being mad at him. After all, he’d just meant to protect me. He hadn’t seen the evening the way Valerie obviously had, or I had. I’m sure he thought he was doing me a favor by getting some kind of safety net set up for me, whether I wanted it or not.
I went to the library, to the little table in the corner where I’d dug in and made a space for myself. I moved my coffee cup aside. I’d given the housekeeping staff strict instructions not to wash it, ever, much to Neil’s chagrin.
My evening swim with Emma had given me comfort and someone to talk to, but I couldn’t tell her everything. Her father was seriously ill. She didn’t want to hear me talk about my fears of losing him, and I shouldn’t burden her with them, anyway. Being the partner of someone fighting a possibly terminal illness was incredibly isolating.
I stared at the screen. Maybe I was going about the writing thing all wrong. I’d been so concerned with numbers and figures, trying to fit my and Neil’s experiences in around those statistics. I needed to narrow my focus. Everyone knew what cancer was already. What they probably didn’t know was what we were living.
Drumming my fingers lightly over the keys, I considered an opening line.
My boyfriend might be dying.
No. I wasn’t going to lead with that. Neil might be the one who had cancer, but I wasn’t writing about him. I should write about what it was like to be in a relationship that had cancer. I deleted the opening line and started again.
Even when I’m with my boyfriend, we’re never alone. We always have cancer with us. When we get up in the morning, it’s either to take a pain pill or make an appointment. When we go to bed at night, cancer is between us like an uncomfortable, saggy spot in the mattress. If we sleep together at all.