Weekend Reading

Deb backtracks to the beginning of her story, in this chapter from Family Lines.

I think I got sidetracked there. Yeah, yeah, I can hear you say Sidetracked girl? You’ve been sidetracked a way long time. Fair cop. I mean sidetracked from starting at the real beginning which wasn’t that day I took off. The real beginning begins in our kitchen. Your kitchen. The kitchen where we used to sit every day at the old pine table with its knots and scratches and indents and your name carved into the wood which Mam had a fit about when she saw it and you tried to blame me which she didn’t believe. And now you’re saying I was always her favourite. Which isn’t quite the way it was.

  So, there she was sitting at the table one evening when I came home from school. She was sipping a mug of tea, smoking a fag, staring out the window. For a wonder the radio wasn’t on. I think that’s why I sensed something strange as soon as I opened the door. Also it was the way she was sat there not looking at anything in particular. I don’t know where you were – mitching in town with your pals as usual I suppose. I said Hi. Mam said Hi. I went to cupboard and took out a glass, turned on the tap and filled the glass with water, gulped it straight down standing at the sink and filled it again.

You should have something to eat, Mam said.

  Not hungry, I said and made to leave the kitchen. I was dying to go upstairs to ‘our’ room, pull off the school tunic and have a smoke out the window.   

  Not so fast, Mam said when I reached the door to the hall.

Photo by Mulyadi on Unsplash

  I turned around but she wasn’t looking at me, only at the smoke curling up from her fag, which was resting in the ashtray. I remember the shape of it clearly, how it seemed to make a blue question mark in the air.

  What’s up? I asked.

  Sit down, she said and with her foot nudged back the chair opposite her at the table.

  I set down my glass, perched on the edge of the chair and looked at her. I was expecting another lecture about eating more or about spending more time doing homework and less time with Fogo. The usual shite.

  You can wipe that sour puss off your face, she said. Here’s something for your family tree. She took a brown envelope from her lap and passed it across the table to me.

  I looked at the rough brown oblong for a moment. There was no name or address on it, not even a stamp, just the official harp printed at the top. What’s that? My walking papers? I half-laughed. Bad joke as it turned out.

  Just open it, she said. It won’t bite you.

  I slid it off the table and turned it over. It wasn’t sealed, the flap was tucked in. I opened it gingerly, even though I knew it wouldn’t bite me or blow up in my face. At least I was fairly sure it wouldn’t. But I was afraid all the same. I pulled out the single sheet of paper it contained and unfolded it. CERTIFICATE of BIRTH was printed across the top. Relief trickled through me slowly.

 Thanks, I said, and started to put it back in the envelope.

  You didn’t read it, Mam cocked her head.

  Well I know I’m born, I laughed. And I know my name. But it’s good to get confirmation all the same.

  Look at it again, she insisted.

  So I did. And that’s when everything went blurry on me.

I don’t understand, I said when I could lift my eyes from the page, although I could scarcely breathe.

  Maybe I should have waited till you were older, Mam said.

  Maybe what? I pleaded and glanced at the page again. Maybe you should tell me what it means. ‘Father unknown’. What does that mean? What about Dad? Who is he?

  It means he’s not your biological father but in every other possible way he is a father to you. Better than the bastard who betrayed us.

  Us? Who’s us? I was crying now.

  You and me. You and me. Mam’s lips curled in disgust. Me. You.

  I grabbed her pack of cigarettes, shook one free and tried to light it but my hands were too shaky to strike the match. Mam did the honours and lit a fresh one for herself, shook the match out and dropped it in the ashtray.

Then for a moment she copped her old self on and said, I can’t believe I just lit a cigarette for you.

  I can’t believe you just told me I don’t have a father. I hissed at her.

  You do. Denis is the best dad you could ever have.

  Yeah but according to this, he’s not my dad. I screwed the piece of paper in my hand and thrust it at her. Father unknown. Unknown. Did you not know him.

  Yes misfortunately I did.

  Misfortunately? So what does that make me then? A mistake?

  No, she swung her head. No. You’re my beautiful girl. I love you to bits. You know that. You’re everything I hoped you’d be. Everything I dreamed of being.

  Everything you hoped and dreamed. I put my hands to my head which was pounding. I don’t understand, I cried again and scraping back my chair I stood up. I wanted to run out the door and down the street out of our estate out of Dublin and run and keep on running till I ran out of breath or road or both.

  Oh God forgive me, Mam wailed and for a moment I thought she was taking the piss. Playing the diva. I’ve done you wrong, she went on. I knew it. I should never have said anything. What harm was there in you not knowing? Weren’t we happy as we were?

  Stop it! Stop it! I shouted. What about me? You should have told me long ago. Who is he? I have a right to know. Did you even know his name? A low blow I know but I can’t tell you how furious I was with her.

  How dare you, miss, she said getting up on her high horse. What do you take me for? Of course I knew his name. We were courting for more than a year.

  Well then where did he go? What happened to him?  

  She sat there tossing her head, tears running down her cheeks.

  Was he married?

  A big shake of the head.

  Was he a priest?

  Are you mad? She looked up at me, almost laughing. With her face all blotched and mascara running down her cheeks she looked like a melted clown.

  That’s one good thing, I managed to say. What about Da— Denis? I mean does he know?

  Of course he does, she stiffened with self-righteousness. I’m not a liar. Whatever else you might think of me. You and your sister think you’re better than me but you’re not you know.

  Is that why you’re telling me this? I asked, my anger turning hard inside me.

  No. Your Dad—

  My not dad.

  Denis then, and Marge, said I had to tell you.

  So Marge knows too? And what about Lucy? Does she know? And who’s her father?

  Denis. Sure isn’t she the spit of him?

  I don’t know, I shrugged but by then I didn’t care about anyone except me.

And so I walked out the door. Mam came and called after me but I wasn’t listening. I just went on walking. My head was a big ball of confusion and rage that I didn’t know where I was going or what I was doing. At some point I looked down and realised I was still holding the piece of paper, my birth cert. I halted and unfolded it, and read it line by line.

This time I felt I had stepped outside of myself. I know this sounds freaky but I literally felt another form emerge from the centre of my body and stand there in front of me. When I began to move again it moved with me. It was more solid than a shadow but invisible. I wasn’t frightened of it, just kinda dislocated.

I didn’t go home that night. When it got dark I went to Mirror’s house and told her I had a row with Mam. Her mam let me stay there. I shared Mirror’s bed. It was nice to feel her back against mine. But that didn’t stop the awful dreams. I woke sometime in the middle of the night and my face was streaming with tears. Mirror must have heard me because her hand crept over my side and took my hand and squeezed it. And so I fell asleep again.

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