I posted this originally on Wattpad, but apparently you have to sign up to that site before you can read this, so I'm posting it here for the 'benefit' of those who are not signed up. It is the first chapter/story of my short story collection titled A Lifelong Day' which will be released some stage later this year, hopefully!
It was the same drive every day, the same route taken from the newly built development on the outskirts of the small market town, past the school his children attended; quiet now, for a few weeks anyway, the summer holidays just beginning, kids already forgotten the place. The same drive into the busy car park, early enough to get one of the coveted free spaces on the lower level. Three pounds a day! Fifteen a week. Even if he wasn't a bank manager, he would be able to see the advantage of getting up and leaving the house a little earlier. Plus, it gave him twenty minutes of peace and solitude between the madness of home and the hustle and bustle of work.
He was on a beach somewhere, Mexico maybe, or Thailand. It didn't really matter, what was important was that he wasn't sitting in his car, in this car park on a rainy Wednesday morning in June. It was supposed to be summer, but it had been raining since, when, Saturday? He could almost feel the sea lapping at his feet, the sun slowly turning his under-exposed chest a rather alarming shade of pink. Smiling at the thought of being somewhere other than here, he closed his eyes and allowed himself this moment.
Connor Doherty had always appreciated a simple life, he enjoyed the mundane, the routine. His job afforded him all these qualities in abundance. He had been working in the same bank since he left school, working his way up from cashier to manager in a fairly unimpressive career of steady if unremarkable progress. Twenty-seven years, not one sick day. He was very proud of that, he could look anyone in the eye, and be proud of that. It might not be much, certainly not akin to losing one's leg in a war saving the lives of your comrades, or developing a cure for cancer, but it was all he had, and dammit, he was proud of it.
The second alarm of the morning buzzed on Connor's phone, bringing his twenty minutes to a sad and unsatisfying conclusion. Sighing deeply, Connor returned his seat to the vertical position, got out of the nine-year-old family car, and started making his way to work. Huddling under his golf umbrella, which had never even seen a golf course, Connor crossed the car park, exchanging the usual pleasantries with his fellow commuters.
As was normal, on the walk to the bank, his thoughts drifted home. His wife, Susan, his Susie, who wasn't quite his anymore. She wasn't quite anyone's, not even herself. He had begun to lose her years ago, but the death of her father three years earlier, seemed to have sealed the deal. Rarely found out of bed, Susie has withdrawn almost completely. Conversations are difficult, drawn out, one-sided affairs that leave Connor frustrated and angry. Angry at himself for not knowing how to help the woman he loves, frustrated because he has to try.
The kids can't help. How could they, they're only children. Lucy is thirteen, and Darragh not much older at fifteen. Probably the only children in school who had been dreading the holidays, knowing what their summer would consist of. Today was the middle of the first week of their summer, and he hoped they would get into town today, to spend time with their friends, to be normal, or at least pretend to be. Connor toyed with the idea of taking them away for even a couple of days, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. Susie would never go for it, you know I'm not well enough for a trip like that, why even mention it, just to make me feel worse, now I'm the one not letting them have a holiday, you always do this Connor, it's hardly my fault I'm sick!
The morning passed, as mornings tend to do, slowly and uneventfully. Paperwork was a tedious business, but at least he was spared the actual face-to-face meetings with disappointed or dissatisfied customers. That sort of thing was best left to others. As Connor's tea break approached, (it was good to keep to a routine, even though as manager, he could have tea all day if he wanted), he continued to think of the holiday he couldn't have. A week in Spain, one of those package deals he has seen advertised in the window of the travel agents' around the corner. Even a city break, three days in Madrid or Barcelona, surely Susie could cope with that.
He sipped his tea, imagining it was a Café Carajilo with a generous dash of rum. Sitting on a terrace on the Plaza Mayor, or on the waterfront at the bottom of Las Ramblas while Susie took in the shops with Lucy; Darragh and himself people watching, just chilling out. If they were lucky there was a game on, and they could see it on a little television screen behind the bar beside them. Cheering on Atleti, or Espanyol like locals. He always imagined Real and Barca were only supported by tourists and that the locals supported the smaller of the city's teams. Darragh had gotten an 'A' in Spanish in his last exam; he was a natural at languages, so unlike his father. He'd love to have an excuse to put all this learning into practice, he'd be so proud sitting there conversing with the staff, ordering them all their food and drink. It would be great for both the kids, they've never been anywhere. Do they even have passports? He'd have to look into that when he got home this evening.
Lunchtime came, and Connor decided to see what was what in the travel agents. Three nights in Spain's capital for the four of them, a chance to get to know each other again, he was beginning to get excited. This was the most impulsive thing he had done in years, to hell with it, he'd talk Susie into it somehow, so he went right ahead and booked the holiday.
The rest of the day went by in a bit of a blur, at times rushing by as his adrenaline levels peaked with the thought of actually telling Susie, at times it seemed the clock on his office wall was broken, as he came back to earth with the reality of how that confrontation might go.
He couldn't wait, though, to tell Darragh and Lucy. He could picture their faces, Lucy looking up at him with those big beautiful blue eyes, Daddy! Really! We're really going?! Wait till I tell them, can I tell them now!? And then rushing off to facechat, or snapbook, or whatever. And Darragh, What about Mum? What will she say? So practical, not wanting to get carried away, probably won't believe it until he's actually on the plane, practising his Spanish.
The butterflies in his stomach were huge by the time 4.30 arrived and the bank closed, just the supervision of cashing up to be done. He left a couple of minutes after five, walking on air, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was so keen to get home (when was the last time he could say that?) he decided to forego his usual latte at Al's coffee shop. The rain had stopped sometime in the afternoon, the puddles drying on the pavement as he practised his speech on the way back to the car.
Connor removed the envelope the girl in the travel agents had given him, and placed it reverently on the passenger seat beside him. His gamble, he began to doubt himself, and his sanity. It wasn't like things weren't bad enough at home, without risking this. Over what? A couple of days in Spain? He was mad, certifiable even. He knew what Susie would say, hadn't he been over it this morning? He looked at the envelope, and thought of Darragh and Lucy. Screw her, we're going, whether she likes it or not.
He couldn't help it, he was angry with her, he spent a lot of time angry with her, although he tried to deny it, even to himself. He couldn't figure out why she just didn't get out of that damn bed and do something, anything! He didn't understand the mood swings, from depression to apathy, and most things in between. When her father died, she became these extremes that had always threatened the edges of her personality. It was like she had kept them at bay, just, for years, but couldn't, or wouldn't, fight any longer.
Her father had been a mean man when sober, which wasn't very often, and a cruel bully when drunk, which was. Susie was an only child and as such, often the only buffer between her father's rage and her mother. Her childhood was a long list of visits to the hospital, no social services back then to report domestic abuse to, no outreach program to help families. Connor avoided the man as much as was possible while he was alive; family gatherings were always held at Susie's family home, so they could leave on their terms. The children were always kept at a distance.
Connor had hoped when the old man died, Susie would come out of herself a little, but the opposite happened. A wall grew between her and everyone and everything. Even Darragh, who was such a mummy's boy, practically surgically attached to her apron strings, was pushed away.
Pulling into the drive, Connor looked up to the bedroom window. The curtains were pulled apart, and the windows open. He could hear music coming from the back of the house, from the kitchen. Thinking his timing could not have been better, Connor grabbed the envelope with their holiday inside and rushed, for the first time in years, into the house to see his wife.
Susie, his Susie, for she was always his Susie, and always would be his Susie, was standing at the worktop, preparing dinner. It was a picture perfect moment, his idyllic family life, Honey, I'm home. Even the kids were there, he could hear them in the living room, arguing about who got to watch what on television. He couldn't have planned it better. He could tell them all together, make the evening doubly perfect. Viva Espana!
***
The rain streaked down the bedroom window as the car pulled out of the long drive. As Susie watched Connor head towards the town for another day at the bank she knew how lucky she was. He was a wonderful husband, and an even better father to their two children. She knew she wasn't the easiest person to live with, but he put up with it, with her, with barely a cross word. Today would be a better day, she promised herself. The same promise she had made every day since he died.
Gerry Breslin had been an impressive man, physically at least, if not in any other department. The complete opposite to her Connor, which was probably why she was so drawn to him. Connor represented everything her father didn't; security, reliability, dependability.
Susie did this a lot, she realised, listing Connor's qualities on her fingers. Would it be so hard to tell him every once in a while?!
Sometimes she was so calm, so normal, she could almost feel herself again. Her old self, if there even was one, if she was actually still there, inside somewhere. She doubted it. She knew she wasn't quite herself, hadn't been for years. But contrary to the stories, admitting you have a problem isn't always the first step to fixing it.
Some mornings, like this one, after Connor leaves for work, Susie would find herself staring out the window after him. He always leaves so early now, even though the bank doesn't open until nine-thirty, and he's the manager, he can show up whenever, no-one is going to say anything to him. She knows it's because he can't stand to be here any longer than he has to be. He might even be having an affair. She dismisses this thought almost immediately, no way, not my Connor.
The back door slamming shut startled her from her daydream, the kids leaving for school, no, not school, it was the summer holidays, she knew. She knew they didn't want to be in the house all day, left here with her all day. She smiled a little, wished them every happiness, even if was just a day aimlessly wandering through the shops with their friends. She could cope today, she could be strong for the whole day. One day at a time, isn't that what she was always being told? Even they had stopped coming to say goodbye, how she used to love seeing their little faces as they headed off for their day, her babies, so grown up. She missed them, missed being their mummy.
Susie had always struggled with depression, she couldn't pinpoint when it started, not exactly, but she remembered even in her own childhood, shying away from social events, almost deliberately neglecting friendships to the point where what friends she did have eventually stopped calling round, stopped phoning. It always seemed easier being on her own.
Not on her own exactly, she had her mother, who needed her more than any of those silly girls from school. Life was difficult at home; her father was a mean man, and a drunk to be perfectly honest. Even when he was sober, which wasn't very often, he was a cruel man, with a cruel tongue. When he was the other side of drink, his cruelty migrated to his fists, and not uncommonly, his feet. Regularly he could be found holding Susie by the throat while kicking his wife. The neighbours would turn the wireless up rather than come to their aid, once bitten twice shy, as a bloodied nose a few years ago put paid to the crossing of Gerry Breslin's threshold when he was on one.
As she grew older, Susie's patience with her mother began to wane. She couldn't understand why she put up with him, what hold he could possibly have on her to make her stay, to put her daughter through this, night after night, year after year. The anger built up within, but unlike her father she was unable, or perhaps unwilling to release it. It gnawed at her, tormented her, changed her gradually.
When her father died all this anger and resentment died too, but when that happened, Susie realised that that was all she had. So many years of defining herself by her father, and by his actions, had left her empty. She was an empty shell, and unable to fill that space where the bitterness lived. She knew it was irrational, she had a wonderful life, and a wonderful family, but there was nothing inside of her. Her father had taken everything she had and turned it into pain. Without that pain, she didn't know who she was anymore.
Today was going to be a better day. Her morning mantra. She watched Darragh and Lucy turn the corner towards the town, and their freedom from the darkness of the house. Darragh so very protective of his younger sister; Lucy idolising him, but obviously never ever going to admit it. She decided she was going to do something today, if not for herself, for them. She was feeling better today.
***
As he called Darragh and Lucy into the kitchen Susie turned around, and instinctively Connor stepped towards her to give her a hug, a hug he'd been holding onto for three long years. God, it was like she was never gone, he still loved her so much, this holiday was going to be perfect! It took the breath from him. He looked down, the kitchen knife, bloody in Susie's hand, sliding slowly out of his stomach. You bastard, daddy, leave mummy alone!
He looked down as the envelope slipped from his outstretched hand and closed his eyes.
