Page 90 of People In Love
You don’t remember, he says. Don’t pretend that you do.
Bren, Nora says, but Josie says he’s right, pet. I do have trouble remembering things.
Don’t we all, Robin says. I’ve been forgetting little details, recently. Where I’ve put my notebook. Which equipment is mine, even, on a photo shoot.
Details, Bren echoes, going back for his chair. Setting it down at the head of the table, while Josie pats Robin’s hand.
I’d say where your son lives is more than just adetail, he says. It’s not like you’ve got much else to keep track of.
Josie pauses as she lifts a piece of bread to her mouth. Freya says Brenavin, at the same time that Robin says hey, now.
I just don’t get it, Bren says, more to his plate than his mother. Living like this.
Get what? Freya blusters. That you’re not the centre of the universe? That there are other things that occupy the minds of the people you love?
Nora’s conscience stutters, at this last part; she feels as ifshe’d been on a ship heading for an iceberg, hoping it would turn, come on, turn, but then her mother had to saythatand she is hurting, at Robin’s sad eyes; hurting, that Bren is hurting, too; hurting that she has done nothing wrong, on paper, and yet the two people she cares about most are at this table, unable to look at her, while her mother is citinglovein front of Josie, when Nora knows – sheknows–
People you love? Bren repeats. Or people, he says, looking at Nora, who just happen to be here?
Brenavin, get off your high –
No, seriously, Bren says. I’ve been gone twelve years, this summer, right? And I’d like you to make a list, for me, all of you – he swivels to Freya and Josie – about what it is that youlove, around here. Not what’s easy, or convenient. What takes your breath away, or sets your world on fire. Doesn’t have to be a person, even. Tell me what it is that’s winning for you, here, in this garden with your damn salad plates and your banged-up cars in the driveway and magnets from places you’ve never evenseen, stuck to the fridge, while you’re too scared to do anything else?
And Nora has opened her mouth to argue, but it is Robin who gets there first.
I think you should take a breath, my friend, he says.
Bren looks at him over the Pimm’s jug. There is a measured moment where Robin looks back, unruffled. The three women, looking at them look.
Sweetheart, Josie says, in the end, but Bren says he just – needs a minute – gets up and goes inside, leaving the four of them at the table. A bee drifts near to the dipping oil, then away again. Josie presses her napkin to her mouth.
I’m so sorry, she says.
What areyousorry for, Freya demands. We’ve not even told him what we’re here for and already he’s all riled up.
He’s right to be upset, Josie says. I am appalling at remembering certain things. It must be the pills.
Or the menopause, Freya says.
I can never keep up with where he is, Josie goes on. I don’treallyunderstand what he does for a living, either. He uses all these words, all these terms that I can’t … quite keep in my brain. I do try.
Course you do, Freya says.
He’s always been so passionate, Josie says. That’s his dad in him. Not me.
Not all passion has to be fire and fantasy, Freya says, standing to scrape the remaining salad onto Robin’s plate. Something totake your breath away, did he say? We’re not any less interesting because we’re not scaling glaciers or naked camping with strangers.
Naked camping? Josie says, startled.
You know, without toilets or electricity.
Wild camping, Nora corrects her.
She rather hopes this might prompt some humour from Robin, but he is picking at his salad leaves, not looking at any of them.
Freya’s right, he says. About passion.
Still not glancing up from his plate.
