‘So don’t stay up late, Rowan. What are you going on about?’
‘Insomnia. I don’t play games anymore; I don’t watch TV. But I still can’t sleep. I’ve tried everything. And now I’m getting bad dreams when I do manage to sleep.’
‘What are your bad dreams about?’ she asked slowly, stirring the spoon over and over inside the mug.
‘What do you think?’
His mum brought the tea over and sat back down. She laced her fingers in her lap, her eyes downcast and it was the picture of submission. She thought he was attacking her?
‘I’m so sorry, Rowan,’ she whispered.
He swore. ‘No, Mum, you don’t need to be sorry – I’m not blaming you – it wasn’t your fault—’
‘But I stayed.’
‘Of course you stayed. What would he have done if we tried to leave? We all used to hide the evidence didn’t we – because we were scared of the repercussions if someone found out and actually tried to help us. We had nowhere to go where he wouldn’t have found us. I just…I just want to know if it haunts you too – and Siobhan. Have we all been pretending we’re okay, when we could do with some help? From each other, or professionally?’
‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘You don’t have to say that there is. If there isn’t – then hallelujah. But I’ve realisedI’mnot entirely okay and I don’t want to assume you are, just because that’s how we’ve always acted.’
‘Oh my goodness, Rowan. I can tell you’ve been spending lots of time with Americans.’ She gave a shaky laugh and reached for her tea.
He gave soft laugh too. ‘Yeah, fair enough.’ Maybe that was it. He’d said his part and now he just had to deal with stuff on his own or go to a sleep clinic or a shrink or both.
They sat quietly, drinking their tea, and when Rowan got up to rinse the mugs out, his mother’s voice came, small and wobbly again. ‘You really don’t blame me?’
‘No, Mum. Of course not.’ He turned back just in time to see her disappear into her hands, shoulders shaking. He hurried over to her to hold her as she cried. He hadn’t seen her cry in years. Was that normal, now that he thought about it? ‘I mean, I do question you ever loving him. That’s a bit bizarre to figure out.’ He tried for some levity once her tears eased.
‘Well, he wasn’t always like that you know, and you can’t choose who you fall in love with, can you?’ She wiped her face and then patted his cheek with her damp hand.
Wasn’tthatthe truth?
Or maybe not. Because falling in lovewaschoosing, wasn’t it? Over and over again, that in all the different ways, this person was the one who fit you best.
But then why would Lila have chosen to fall in love with him when his life embodied all the things she was most anxious about?
Unless deep down she wanted that challenge, just like he wanted to embrace the side of his life and career that was quieter – less fame-hungry and open to the public.
She’d said she was going to try and that he wasn’t to wait for her, but something in his gut told him that they were meant to be together. And that the changes he wanted to make to his life were the right thing to do, for himself first, but also for if she found a way back to him.
