So I can’t accept the job of my dreams because my family won’t move with me. Big deal. It’s not as though I bend over backwards for them. It’s not as though I arrange my life to revolve around them. It’s not as though I come home from work tired and still have dinner on the table for them, it’s not as though I perform wonderful supportive wifely chores when there’s a million other things I could be doing. It’s not as though I defend my daughter at school, constantly fighting with the teachers about how she is not Satan’s daughter. It’s not as though I tolerate Greg’s mother for dinner every Sunday and listen to her whinge about how the food isn’t cooked right, about my hair, about the way I dress, about the way I have chosen to raise Katie and then have to sit through hours of reruns of her favorite soaps. It’s not as though I’m always the one to take a day off work when Katie is sick or drop whatever plans I’ve made to help people out.
Just as well I don’t do any of those things.
But who cares? I get burned toast and milky tea one morning once a year on Mother’s Day as thanks. And that should make up for it, shouldn’t it? Greg always tells me I’m forever chasing rainbows. Maybe I should stop now.
Love,
Rosie
FROM: Alex
TO: Rosie
SUBJECT: Rosie Dunne!
Do not give up! You are Katie’s mother and what you say is final. She will learn to adjust and you don’t need to worry because kids adjust to things far easier than us adults. As for what’s-his-name! Doesn’t he have a supportive bone in his body? I suppose he doesn’t, not having a spine and all . . .
I just hate to see you miss out on another opportunity, isn’t there anything you can do to convince what’s-his-name?
FROM: Rosie
TO: Alex
SUBJECT: Family
Thanks, Alex, but no. I can’t force my family to leave their home if they don’t want to, they’re important to me.
I have to respect Greg’s wishes; I don’t think I would be too happy about moving away from my job and friends if he had to move due to work. I can’t live my life pretending it’s just me in the world. But how much easier it would be! Anyway it’s just another missed opportunity.
So enough about me—how are all those lectures going? Find out who Mr. Fantastic Surgeon is yet?
Thanks for your support, as always.
FROM: Katie
TO: Toby
SUBJECT: Grounded!
I can’t believe we are grounded! And on our summer holidays! Our parents didn’t have to go all psycho about it! It’s not like we ended up going anywhere—we were less than an hour away from home. Hardly worth locking us in our houses for two weeks. I told you we should have taken a ferry over to France or something. In the films, the first places the gardai always check are the airports. That was where we made our mistake. I’ve been looking into this and we should have gone to Bus Aras, and got a coach to Rosslare. Next time that’s what we’ll do.
What do you think Alex would have done when we arrived on his doorstep? Mum says he’s not even home, that he’s away on some meetings or something but I think she’s just lying to try to prove that our plan wouldn’t have worked. I don’t think he would have been mad, Alex is cool. But he probably would have called Mum and she would have sent ten million squad cars and rescue helicopters over to get us.
Poor Mum. I’m glad we’re not moving away but I feel sorry for her. She was so excited about doing that job and now she’s back stuck in that other place she said she was sick of a while ago. I feel kinda guilty. I no she would have made me go anyway if Greg had said yeah but I still feel bad for her. She’s just wandering around the house looking real sad and she keeps on sighing as though she’s real bored and doesn’t no what to do next. Just like us on Sundays. She gets up from one couch and moves to another room to sit in another chair. Then she gets up again and moves to another room and stares out the window for ages, sighs about three million times, moves to another room, in, out, in, out . . . she makes me dizzy just watching her. Sometimes I just follow her around, seeing as I’m not supposed to be allowed in the outside world and I’ve nothing better to do.
Yesterday I started following her again and she started to walk faster and faster, by the end of it I was chasing her around the house and it was so funny. She opened the front door and ran outside in her pajamas teasing me because I couldn’t go outside (being grounded and all). But I ran out anyway and the two of us sprinted around the block in our pajamas, me in my blue one with the pink hearts and Mum in her yellow dressing gown! Everyone was staring at us but it was fun. We ran to Birdie’s shop on the corner and Mum treated me to some strawberry ice cream, the highlight of my day. Birdie didn’t look too impressed at the sight of us especially seeing as Mum wasn’t wearing anything under her dressing gown but she flashed her legs at old Mr. Fanning who was there to buy his morning paper. He looked like he was gonna have a heart attack. So at least I got to go outside for a little while.
As soon as we got back inside she continued just walking around the house as if she was in a museum or something. Greg says she’s got a feather up her arse. Mum said she’d love to shove a pole up his. He didn’t say much for the rest of the day.
Toby, if we had made it to the top of that queue in the airport, do you think we would have gotten on the plane? I’m not sure if I could have left Mum, but I don’t think she would believe that now if I told her. She would probably just think I was trying to get out of being grounded, although that’s not a bad idea. OK I gotta go!
E-mail me back before I die of boredom!
FROM: Alex
TO: Rosie
SUBJECT: Family duties!
You and your “duties” to your family. I just don’t want you to be the only person following the rules, that’s all.
The lectures are going great. You will never believe who the surgeon is! Your very favorite man—Reginald Williams.
FROM: Rosie
TO: Alex
SUBJECT: Reginald Williams!
Oh . . . my . . . god. Pass me a bucket while I puke. You mean slutty Bethany’s father? Have they come back from the evil past to haunt us??!!
A very disgusted and extremely shocked Rosie
FROM: Alex
TO: Rosie
SUBJECT: Re: Reginald Williams!
It’s OK Rosie, take deep breaths! He’s not so bad. A very intelligent man.
FROM: Rosie
TO: Alex
SUBJECT: Re: Reginald Williams!
What does he do now, hypnotism? Has he been tampering with your brain? So that’s why he’s been all over the papers over here. I have refused to read them out of protest for him and his family’s existence. Oh my god—Reginald Williams! So do you think you’re in with a chance to be one of the “chosen few” to work with him, seeing as you were an almost-son-in-law? There’s nothing like a bit of nepotism to keep the world a just and equal place.
FROM: Alex
TO: Rosie
SUBJECT: Nepotism!
I think the chances of that happening are fairly slim. I think I sealed my own doom when I dumped his favorite and only daughter!
FROM: Rosie
TO: Alex
SUBJECT: Slutty Bethany
Oh I don’t know about sealing your doom, I think it may have been the best move you have ever made. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen slutty Bethany for about ten years! What is she up to, I wonder? Probably living in a mansion in the hills counting diamonds and evilly laughing . . .
FROM: Rosie
TO: Stephanie
SUBJECT: Best friends stay with you forever
Oh wise and wonderful sister Stephanie you were right! When I was seventeen you told me that girlfriends come and go but best friends stay with you forever. I found myself saying today, “I wonder what slutty Bethany is doing these days . . .” The exact statement I never wanted Alex to have to say about me. I didn’t believe you at the time but I sure do now!!
Thanks Steph, b
est friends do stay with you forever!
CHAPTER 27
You have an instant message from: RUBY
Ruby: So you’re still here then.
Rosie: Oh your words of support are like a breath of fresh air my dear Ruby. Yes I am still here. The hands of Dublin have got their fists tightly grasped around my neck, choking me and refusing to let go. Yes Ruby. I am still here.
Ruby: I see; nice little analogy. So you found your daughter then.
Rosie: Yes we have her trained to come running back after three whistles, a clap of the hands, and a little twirl.
Ruby: Impressive . . .
Rosie: I reminded myself that Alex and I ran off together a few times when we were younger. The first time we ran away because Alex’s parents refused to let him go to some theme park to visit Captain Tornado for the weekend. I now understand his parents’ point of view because, well, the theme park was in Australia . . . in a cartoon . . . Anyway we must only have been about five or six. We packed our school bags and ran away. We literally ran away, we thought that was what we were supposed to do, run down the road which was extremely inconspicuous of course.
We spent the entire day roaming streets we had never been to before, looking at houses and wondering if the pocket money we had saved up that week was enough to buy a house of our own. We even looked at the houses that weren’t for sale . . . we hadn’t quite grasped that concept yet. As soon as it got dark the two of us became bored with our freedom and a little scared too. Eventually we decided to head back home to see if our protests had made a difference to the Captain Tornado situation. Our parents hadn’t even noticed we’d been gone. Alex’s parents thought we were at my house and my parents thought vice versa.
I don’t know if Katie would have gotten on that plane had she been given the opportunity. I would like to think that I’ve done a good enough job as a mother for her to know that running away isn’t a way to solve anything. You can run and run as fast and as far as you like but the truth is, wherever you run, there you are. In fact she tried to tell me today that she loved me with all her heart and that she could never leave me. I thought I sensed sincerity in her eyes and voice but as soon as I reached out to cuddle her, her face brightened and asked if that meant she didn’t have to be grounded anymore. I’m afraid she’s a chancer like her father.
Ever run away from home when you were a child?
Ruby: No. But my ex-husband ran away from home with a child half his age if that’s any help to you.
Rosie: Right . . . well no it’s not but thanks for sharing it with me all the same.
Ruby: No problem.
Rosie: So what are you doing for your 40th Ruby? It’s coming up soon?!
Ruby: I’m going to break up with Teddy.
Rosie: No! You can’t! You and Teddy are an institution!
Ruby: Ha! That’s my point. OK I mightn’t then. I was just thinking of new and exciting ways to change my life. Funnily enough that was the first one that jumped into my head.
Rosie: You don’t need to change your life Ruby; it’s just fine as it is.
Ruby: I’m going to be 40 Rosie. FORTY. I’m younger than Madonna would you believe and I look like her mother. Every day I wake up in a messy bedroom beside a man who smells and snores, I trip over mounds of clothes in order to find my way to the door, I stagger down to the kitchen and make myself a coffee and eat a slice of leftover cake. On the way back to my bedroom I pass my son in the hallway. Sometimes he acknowledges me; most of the time he doesn’t.
I fight with him to use the shower and I don’t mean about who’s first to use it, I actually have to force him to wash himself. I fight with the shower in order to be neither scalded to a crisp nor frozen to death. I get dressed in clothes I have been wearing for far too many years in a size that makes me physically sick, but that has caused me to lose the will to care about doing something about . . . anything or anything about something. Teddy grunts good-bye to me, I squeeze myself into my banged-up rusty old unfaithful mini that breaks down almost every morning on the motorway that bears more of a resemblance to a car-park than a road.
I park my car, arrive into work late again, and get given out to by someone I have been forced to nickname Randy Andy. I sit at my desk where I concoct stories which help me escape the office where I flee to the outside world for a sneaky cigarette. I do this various times a day. I speak to nobody all day, nobody speaks to me and then I return home at 7 p.m. feeling absolutely exhausted and starving, to a home that will never be cleaned and a dinner that will never prepare itself. I do this every day.
On Saturday nights I meet you, and we go out and I suffer all day Sunday with a hangover. This means that I turn into a zombie and lie on the couch like a piece of broccoli. The house still doesn’t get tidied and despite being screamed at, it refuses to tidy itself. I wake up on Monday morning to that awful horrible wailing sound of my alarm clock that’s beginning to sound like na na na na na, just to begin the week all over again.
Rosie, how could you say I don’t need change? I desperately need change.
Rosie: Ruby, we both need change.
FOR A SPECIAL FRIEND,
MAY THIS BE THE BEGINNING OF A TRULY HAPPY AND SUCCESSFUL YEAR FOR YOU!
SORRY RUBY THIS WAS THE ONLY HALF DECENT CARD I COULD FIND THAT DIDN’T GO ON ABOUT HOW YOUR LIFE IS ALMOST ENDING.
THANKS FOR ALWAYS BEING THERE FOR ME, EVEN THOUGH YOU’D RATHER NOT BE!
YOU’RE A FANTASTIC FRIEND TO HAVE, LET’S ENJOY THIS BIRTHDAY AND GOOD LUCK IN YOUR NEW YEAR.
LOVE, ROSIE
PS: I HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR PRESSIE, NEVER COMPLAIN OF CHANGE EVER AGAIN!
This voucher entitles the bearer to 10 lessons in salsa dancing.
Ricardo will be your teacher every Wednesday @ 8 p.m. in the school hall of St. Patrick’s secondary school.
You have an instant message from: RUBY
Ruby: I’m all salsa’d out! The last time I was in this much pain was when Teddy got that Kama Sutra book for Christmas from the lads at work. I practically had to be fork-lifted to work after the holidays, remember? Well this time I actually had to take the morning off work. Can you believe it?!
I woke up suspecting that I had been in a very serious car accident; then I looked across at Teddy and was convinced we had been. But I forgot that the drooling, sweating, and disturbing noises were all part of the Teddy package. You get one, you get them all. It took me twenty minutes to wake him up so that he could help me out of bed. It took me a further twenty minutes to get out of bed. My joints were on strike. They were all just lazily lounging around with their little pickets pitched up screaming, “Joints on strike, joints on strike!” The hips were the leaders of this conspiracy.
So I rang my boss and held the phone to my hips so he could hear them too. He agreed with me and let me have the morning off. (Well he claims now that he didn’t but I’m sticking to my side of the story.)
Childbirth is nothing compared to exercise, and Gary was a big baby. This is what they should do to prisoners of war when they’re trying to interrogate them. Make them take salsa classes. I knew I was unfit but my god, driving the mini today was horrendous. Every time I changed gears I felt like someone was hammering away at my arm. First gear—sore, second gear—pain, third gear—torture. I ended up driving to work in second gear because it hurt so much. Not safe or healthy for the car at all but she managed to cough and splutter her way into work just like her owner.
By the way I was walking you would swear Teddy and I had worked our way through the Kama Sutra book. Even typing was a traumatic experience as I suddenly realized that my finger bone is connected to my arm bone which in some way was pulling on my hamstring which was giving me a headache. I should have known I would be this bad. When you dropped me off last night I was so stiff I practically had to crawl in the hall door where my ears were greeted by Teddy and Gary having a mutual grunting session in the living room. I’ve learned it’s their odd little method of communication.
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I’m thinking of sending Gary to electrocution . . . sorry, elocution lessons so he can brush up on his “how now brown cows,” instead of his “hugh, nugh, brugh, cughs.” I mentioned it to him last night and he just grunted, “Why do I want to know about wiring houses, Ma?”
So I left my wonderfully intelligent family and soaked myself in the bath and considered drowning myself. Then I remembered I still had chocolate cake left over from yesterday so I came back up for air. Some things are worth living for.
But thank you for the gift, Rosie; we had fun in the class, didn’t we? I can’t remember ever laughing so much in my life, which on second thought is probably why my stomach is so sore. Thank you for reminding me that I’m a woman, that I have hips, that I can be sexy, that I can laugh and have fun.
And thank you for bringing the sexy Ricardo into my life. Can’t wait to feel this way again next week. Now after all my whinging and moaning, how do you feel?
Rosie: Oh fine, thanks. No complaints.
Ruby: Ha!
Rosie: OK, OK so I feel a little stiff.
Ruby: Ha!
Rosie: Oh OK so the bus had to lower the wheelchair ramp for me this morning because I couldn’t lift my leg.
Ruby: That’s more like it.
Rosie: Oh the beautiful Ricardo, Ruby!! I had a dream about him last night. I woke up with my top off and my pillow covered in drool. (OK so, not really.) The sound of that sexy Italian accent shouting, “Ros-ie!! Pay atten-see-on!” and, “Ros-ie! Stup laff-ing!!” and “Ros-ie!! Get up ov ze floor!” just sends a shiver up my spine. But it was the sound of “Vell done Rosie, fantabulous hip action!” that really got me . . . mmm . . . yummy Ricardo with the hips . . .