Magic Sometimes Happens Part 17

If you have any time to spare, I'd love to hear your news.

All best wishes Rosie X FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Re: Merry Christmas!

TO: Rosie Denham SENT: December 22 19.35 Hi Rosie I'm okay, hope you are, too.

How's your new venture doing good?

You have yourself a very merry Christmas and a great New Year.

Sincerely Pat It had no literary merit, but at least it didn't rhyme.

Mom was disappointed not to see the kids on Christmas. As usual, she flew into MSP. As usual, I met her at the airport. As usual, she was thrilled to see me, hugged me, kissed me, told me I was much too thin and needed feeding up.

But the kids weren't in the backseat yelling Granny, Granny, Granny, Granny, we fixed you some cookies, and what did you bring us, and we got a monster Christmas tree, and this made her sad.

'That Alexis, what's she thinking?' Mom demanded as we drove to the apartment, which of course was quiet and had been not been tinselled-up for Christmas. The living room was full of books and papers, magazines and binders lying in great piles everywhere.

'It's like I told you, Mom. She needs some s.p.a.ce.'

'Where exactly is she staying now?'

'She's with a friend who has a house.'

'Where is this house?'

'It's on Grand Avenue.'

'I hope the furnace works so Poll and Joe are cosy.'

'I'm sure the furnace works.'

I wasn't going to tell my mother everything. She'd only start to cry and I couldn't stand to hear my mother cry. It took me back to when I was a little kid and times were bad real bad.

So I didn't tell her Lexie's friend was Mr Wonderful and they were taking Joe and Polly to see Santa Claus at the North Pole, which was temporarily someplace in upstate Minnesota. Lex had told the kids about it and of course she got them all excited before she thought to share this information with their father. I would have looked like the world's biggest, meanest b.a.s.t.a.r.d if I'd told them no, they couldn't go.

'So while Lexie has her s.p.a.ce, you don't get to see your kids on Christmas,' my mother went on crossly.

'They'll be with us Thursday. Lex says they can come to the apartment and stay over. So you and I can take them to the zoo, the mall, the children's theatre and the park.'

'I hope that girl comes to her senses soon, remembers what she said in church. Pat, is Polly still in diapers? Did you get the turkey yet?'

'I got the turkey.'

'You don't look too good. You hair wants cutting. You're working much too hard. You always did. You need ...'

I zoned out of my mother's monologue.

It would be like this for a while, I realised. My poor mother fretting, fretting, fretting, worrying about me and my kids, convinced we must be suffering.

She would do her nut where did I hear that, it had to be a Tess expression when she realised Lex was living with a man, information she'd be given by Joe the moment she and Joe met up.

Yeah, I had been suffering.

But no one goes on suffering forever. It's too pa.s.sive. It gets kind of tedious. Nowadays, I was working on how I could turn my life around.

It started snowing very heavily. I concentrated on the road. After my mother went to bed that night, I made some calls.

ROSIE.

My mother was determined that this would be a normal family Christmas, the kind we'd always had since I was born.

I wished I could sleep through it in the flat in London, waking up in January when it was all over. But of course I went back home to Dorset.

Dad fetched the great big box of decorations from the attic and we put them up, tacking tinsel garlands everywhere and hanging baubles on the Christmas tree. Mum had cooked herself into a frenzy, making everything from scratch mince pies, Christmas puddings and a frosted wonder of a Christmas cake, special stuffing for the Christmas turkey, home-made cranberry sauce. The house was soon so styled and Christma.s.sed-up that it looked like something in a December issue of a woman's magazine.

Christmas Eve was gruesome. Mum and Dad were very quiet. My mother was determined not to cry and in the evening Dad got out the usual party games. He'd evidently decided we all had to be jolly, which under the circ.u.mstances was impossible.

On Christmas morning, my grandmother and mother went to early Ma.s.s. My father drove them into Dorchester. I suppose he hung about outside St Luke's and smoked, or walked around the town while Mum and Granny were in church and praying for us all. I stayed in bed.

When Granny got back home again she seemed quite calm and placid. I'd even say serene. It probably helped that she believed in heaven, that she was certain Charlie was an angel there. My mother probably thought the same. But this didn't help my dad and me.

While Granny dozed and Mum cooked an enormous Christmas lunch I knew we'd have to force ourselves to eat, Dad and I got drunk.

January.

PATRICK.

The New Year brought the Limey a promotion. I read about it on the company website, where there was a brand new mug shot of his grinning face, complete with crooked teeth.

But I didn't care about the Limey.

I had a ton of plans.

Late one weekday evening as I was about to watch a favourite cla.s.sic movie before I went to bed, Lexie came by the apartment, out of breath from slogging up the fourteen flights of stairs. She obviously wasn't getting any exercise, that's apart from flying with Mr Wonderful.

'You're not going to like this,' she began as she slumped into an armchair, scarlet in the face and gasping like a landed fish. 'But, if you remember, I told you it was possible the kids and I would get the chance to travel? Stephen's job, it takes him to the Middle East and Europe?'

'I remember.'

'He has to do a bunch of work stuff in London, England soon. He'd like to bring the kids and me along. It would only be for a few months. I know you'll be difficult about it.'

'Oh?'

'Yeah, you'll call the Feds, have me arrested for kidnapping your children. But Stephen says it would be a fantastic opportunity for them. It would be educational. They'd get to see the changing of the guard at Windsor Palace, visit Notre Dame and meet the hunchback.'

'I think you ought to go to Europe, Lex.'

'Oh so do you mean-'

'You're right, it would be educational.'

'Why are you laughing, Patrick? What's so funny?' Lexie glared at me. 'I heard they got terrorists in Europe, the Taliban and stuff. It's a very dangerous place. But it's like I always said you never cared about me or the children.'

'Lexie, you may take the kids to London. If you email me your schedule general travel plans, which airlines you'll be using, details of where you'll stay in the UK with dates, addresses, cell phone numbers, all that stuff there won't be any problem.'

'What's the catch?'

'There is no catch. I'm trying to be calm and reasonable about an awful situation. You said you wanted to be civilised. So have you changed your mind and do you want a fight? Do you want me filing for divorce? Do you want a sheriff on your Limey lover's doorstep serving papers? Do you want to file for divorce yourself? Or shall we keep the situation open for the moment while we're both so busy, anyway and see how things work out? I'll continue paying maintenance for Joe and Polly into your account. You must let me know if you need more.'

'Patrick, you're impossible. You always were contrary. I'm sure you always will be. Why do you always put me in the wrong?'

'Lex, I don't have time for this.' I got up from the couch. 'I'll see you off the premises. I suggest you ride the elevator at this time of night. But if you want to use the stairs, I'll find a flashlight.'

'I don't do elevators, you know that, but if you don't care about your children's mother getting mutilated, raped and murdered in a dark and dangerous stairwell-'

'Come on, Lex.' I shrugged into my jacket. 'I'll walk you down the stairs. We could both use the exercise.'

Or you could, anyway.

'Oh, don't let me put you out.' She glanced toward the coffee table, saw the DVD case. 'I hope that isn't p.o.r.n?' she said suspiciously. 'Stephen says men in your situation often use a lot of p.o.r.n. It's disgusting, jacking off to p.o.r.n.'

I flipped the case so she could view the artwork.

'Lexie, as you see, it's Unforgiven.'

ROSIE.

You can't miss Pat, I told myself.

Look, you did as Malcolm Crawley said. You went for it, reached out to him. See where it got you nowhere. All he sent was a three line reply.

What was the matter with the man, could he not read between those lines?

It would seem not.

'Darling, what's the problem?' f.a.n.n.y asked me every time we met. 'You can tell Aunt f.a.n.n.y, can't you?'

'I don't have a problem, f.a.n.n.y.'

'You mean it's a man.'

PATRICK.

Okay, I admit it.

I was figuring out how I could get to Europe, too. I told myself it should be possible. My students, graduate students and technicians were the best. Ambitious, dedicated and hard-working, they didn't need me breathing down their necks 24-7. As long as they and I could video-conference, I didn't have to be in Minnesota.

I made more calls. I put out more antennae. I considered leaving academia, applying for a bunch of jobs in industry which all paid twice my salary. I offered to give a course of lectures at some British universities, the ones that had a range of research programmes in my field. I applied for my first pa.s.sport, expedited service. If nothing else, I thought, when I got to page through all those wise, improving sentiments, I'd elevate my mind.

I didn't dare to hope things would work out. Or not for weeks, or even months. But London University's Queen Alexandra College replied within three days. A professor from Australia who'd been due to visit was sick, had died, whatever. So my own proposal was most timely, there was funding, they would be delighted, it would be an honour, the department would be very happy, there were three post-doctoral students who would be most anxious to discuss and all that stuff.

When I saw the dean and told him JQA would not be picking up the tab, he said it would be very good to foster some new links with major UK universities, in fact he had been going to suggest it, but I had beat him to it.

'You have a conference in Colorado in the summer, don't you, Patrick?' he continued. 'Where you're planning on presenting some of your new findings and developments in thought-to-text?'

'Yes, Dean, that's right.'

'I get this feeling you'll soon be in demand all over. You'll get invitations to be a visiting fellow inside, outside of the States.'

'Perhaps.'

'Tell me, did you get your pa.s.sport yet?'

FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: London TO: Rosie Denham SENT: January 14 09.34 Hi Rosie Happy New Year!

Thank you for the message you sent a couple weeks ago.

I'm due to give some lectures at London University's Queen Alexandra College starting Wednesday February 6th. I'll be in the UK around three weeks. So if you're in London, maybe we could meet for coffee some time?

I hope your new job is working out.

Sincerely Pat ROSIE.

I felt myself turn into one big grin.

What's all this sincerely rubbish? What's so wrong with love? Perhaps he doesn't love me? Then why's he coming to London?

Like he says, he's going to give some lectures at Queen Alexandra College. Maybe, said a voice inside my head. But he's really coming to see you.

I wanted to believe it.

FROM: Rosie Denham SUBJECT: London TO: Patrick M Riley SENT: 15 January 15.25 My job is going well. I'd love to meet. Actually, my laptop's on the blink, so maybe you could sort it?

All best wishes Rosie X FROM: Patrick M Riley SUBJECT: Laptop TO: Rosie Denham SENT: January 16 17.45 What's this on the blink? You mean it's ****ed? Okay, I'll check it out. I'll see you February, looking forward to it.

Pat I wonder if it's possible to be unhinged by joy?

I also wondered about going to meet him at Heathrow. Maybe not, I thought don't want to look too keen and needy.

'Perhaps,' the voice of conscience whispered, 'you shouldn't meet at all?'

The voice of conscience could shut up.