Frank and Michelle

“Mum is dying.”

Three simple words, with which Jennifer laid out the situation.

We were sitting at the living room table, a mug of tea in front of each of us. I’d offered to go upstairs to my room and leave Michelle and Jennifer alone to talk, but Michelle had insisted I stay; Jennifer had given me a look, but raised no objection.

“...I see,” said Michelle. She was silent for a moment, and then asked: “How?”

“Same thing that took Gran away, same thing aunt Sylvia almost died of a few years back. Cancer,” was Jennifer’s reply. “And they’ve found some precancerous cells in me too.” She smiled, a sad smile. “Genetics sure are a thing, aren’t they?”

I would have liked to say, “I’m sorry,” or something like that, but it was really not my place; and a look at Michelle pretty much confirmed it. Her eyes were steely-hard, but I could see the turmoil behind them.

“Alright,” she said finally, after taking a deep breath. “And this concerns me how?”

Jennifer stared at her. “What do you mean? She’s your mother.”

Michelle shook her head. “I haven’t been part of the family for... How many years now, Jen? Ten? Eleven? And not by my choice. It was you all,” she said pointedly, “who turned your back on me.”

“I’m really sorry, Michelle, but we didn’t know--”

“Yes, you did,” Michelle replied. “You knew I needed your help. And yet you just up and disappeared on me, the moment I needed someone to back me the most.”

She looked at Jennifer dead in the eye. “What the hell, I was in jail for seven years! And none of you came to visit me! And even after that, you could have come looking for me!”

“Michelle--”

“Don’t Michelle me!” she shouted, slamming her fist down on the table, making our mugs rattle. Conroy, who had been sleeping on the couch, jumped up with a startled meow and scampered away upstairs. Michelle gripped her mug tight, looking intensely at it, breathing in and out in a controlled manner, clearly trying to calm herself down.

“Mum never believed it,” Jennifer said. “She never believed you were the one who stabbed that guy.” She swallowed. “It was Danny who kept repeating it, who refused to let her come visit you in prison. Who refused to let her see you when you came home that first and last time after getting out of jail. Who shouted you away.”

“He threatened to kill me if I came back,” Michelle said.

“I know. I was there, remember,” Jennifer replied.

“...You could have said something.”

Michelle was crying now. I got up from my chair and stood behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“How could I?” said Jennifer, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears too. “You know how he is. I was afraid he would hurt me. That he would hurt mum. But now… I’ve seen mum suffer all these years without doing anything. If I do nothing even now, I will regret it forever.”

There was a long silence, only punctuated by our breathing and the occasional sob from Michelle. Then she said to Jennifer, “You’ve said what you’ve come here to say. Now leave.”

Jennifer got up, and started towards the door, then hesitated. “Mum is at Memorial Hospital,” she said. “She doesn’t have much time.” She rummaged through her purse, and pulled out a memo pad and a pen; she wrote down a number on a sheet, ripped it off, and set it on the table. “Please give me a call if you decide to come see her, I want to be there to help you. Both you and her.”

She started towards the door again, but was stopped by Michelle saying, “Will he be there?”

There was no mistaking who he was.

“I don’t think so,” replied Jennifer. “He doesn’t seem to care at all. I don’t even have any idea where he is, he hasn’t shown his face home for several months now.”

“We ran into him yesterday,” I said.

Jennifer did a double take, looking from me to Michelle. “You did?”

“It wasn’t pleasant,” replied Michelle. “He threatened me. Again.”

“I’m so sorry, Michelle,” said Jennifer. Michelle didn’t answer, so Jennifer walked to the door, gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to me, and left.

Me and Michelle were quiet for a while, then she asked: “Do you have any more hugs available today? I really need one right now.”

I didn’t say anything, but walked around her chair, pulled her up to her feet, and hugged her.

After several minutes we broke the embrace, and sat down on the couch. She leaned back, gave a deep sigh, and looked up at me. “What do you think?”

“Do you want my opinion? My honest opinion?” I asked. She nodded.

I sighed. “I’m not exactly the best person to give advice on family, Michelle; I have no family. All my relatives died when I was really young, so I have no one I’m really close to, except you. And Ralph I guess. I would give anything to be able to say I had a good family situation.” I paused, thinking about how I should continue. “Your family treated you horribly, yes. That much is undeniable. But… They’re trying to make amends.” I thought about Danny. “Well, some of them are. I think you should give them that chance.”

“Do you really think that?” Michelle asked. I saw the doubt in her eyes.

I nodded. “Worst case scenario, you find out they haven’t changed, that they’re not worth the effort, and you’re back at the same situation. But on the other hand, if they have changed, you get your family back.”

I looked at her in the eyes. “Either way,” I continued, “You’ll know. If you don’t try, years from now you’ll wonder how it would’ve turned out if you had.”

Michelle leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes. She didn’t say anything, and after a while I went to make dinner, leaving her alone with her thoughts. (And Conroy, who had come back downstairs and was purring away sitting on Michelle’s lap. Somehow, cats can always tell when they’re needed.)

Three days later we went to the hospital to visit Michelle’s mother. It was the middle of the week, but Jennifer’s advice when Michelle had phoned her was to not wait for the weekend, when everyone came over for visiting hours, so we both asked for a day off from our respective workplaces, which luckily we were able to get; even so, there were still plenty of people around when we arrived. Jennifer had offered to give us a ride in her car, and after some hesitation Michelle had accepted, because taking transit would have meant turning a twenty-minute trip into a full hour-and-a-half (each way) slog. Michelle said I didn’t have to come, but I insisted on being there, to support her, and also because I was afraid she might run into Danny.

As we walked down the corridor towards the hospital room Jennifer turned to me. “Would you mind waiting outside?” she asked. “This is a family matter after all.” I glanced at Michelle, who nodded, so I replied that it was fine. I had every intention of watching from the threshold though, and of going in to support Michelle if it was needed.

Michelle’s mother was sitting upright in bed, reading a book. Michelle had described her to me as a sharp-featured, severe-looking woman with a no-nonsense attitude, but who could nevertheless be very warm and kind when she needed to; to me, with her light pink pajamas, colourful bandanna tied around her head, and IV in her arm, she seemed to be just a frail old woman.

Jennifer went in first. “Mum?” she said.

The mother looked up from her book. “Jen,” she said in surprise, “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you until the weekend.”

“Mum,” said Jennifer carefully, “There’s someone here to see you.”

She stepped aside, to let her mother get a clear look at Michelle, who took a step forward. I’m sure Em had a whole speech planned, but a half-choked “Hi” was all that came out.

Her mother peered at her through her glasses. “Who...” she began, before recognition dawned on her face. Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she buried her face in her hands, giving a high pitched wail. Jennifer was at her bedside in a moment, wrapping an arm around her. “Mum. Mum, calm down, it’s alright,” she said in a soothing tone. The old woman kept crying, and I could see both Michelle and Jennifer had moist eyes; Jennifer beckoned Michelle to come closer.

“Mum,” Michelle said as she sat down on the bed. “Please, stop crying.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” her mother said. “It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

“Mum, stop, please,” Michelle repeated. When the woman kept crying and apologising, Michelle took the nuclear option. “MUM!” she shouted.

Her mother’s head snapped up, looking up at Michelle in bewilderment. The shout had been quite loud; a nurse who was walking through the hall near the room peeked in to check if everything was alright in response, then kept walking once they saw everything was fine.

Michelle grabbed her mother’s hands.

“Mum. It’s okay, really,” she said. “I’ve given this a lot of thought over the past days. I understand why you did what you’ve done.”

She took a deep breath. “And I forgive you. Both of you,” she said, looking from her mother to Jennifer, and back again.

Then she leaned forward, and hugged her mother.

And that was that, as anticlimactic it may be. Years of resentment forgiven, simply because someone had been willing to make the effort to reach out.

As I watched the three women embracing (Jennifer had joined in on the hug, at her mother’s behest), I felt really happy for them. But I also felt a pang of jealousy, since I would never experience anything like that.

Over the next weeks Michelle visited the hospital any chance she got: she probably wanted to spend as much time as she could with her mother, to make up for the years they’d lost. I went with her whenever I could, and I felt uneasy whenever I had to work and couldn’t go: the threat named Danny was still hanging in my mind.

When we talked to each other Michelle frequently stressed that she hadn’t forgotten the past years; she probably never would. But she had took my advice to heart, and was making an honest effort to mend things between herself, her mother, and her sister. And as far as she could tell, so were the two other women; bit by bit they opened up to each other, and found that they had many interests in common – both Michelle and her mother were movie buffs, as it turned out, while the two sisters had an interest in fashion. Jennifer even sewed most of her own clothes, and she promised to show Michelle how to do it once in a while.

The second time I visited along with Michelle she introduced me to her mother, who as it turned out was called Abigail: she had looked between me and Michelle with raised eyebrows and a widening smile as Em recounted how we met, how we became friends, and the smile became a grin when the words “...and we’re living together as room-mates” were spoken. After that Abigail made a point of trying to include me in the conversation between her and Michelle whenever I was present, and she often fell silent, just watching us having one of our usual back-and-forths; once she’d said out of the blue that we looked really cute, bickering like an old married couple, which elicited an indignant “Mum!” in protest from Em, while I focused all my willpower in trying not to blush.

During her visits Michelle also met several of her relatives, whom she hadn’t seen since before going to jail, let alone transitioning: Abigail’s sister Sylvia and her children, John and Jill; cousin Daniel, who had motored down from Scotland to visit, and whom Danny had been named after; Simone, the grand-niece of Abigail, granddaughter of her late brother Michael (who had died before Michelle was born), who was a high-flying solicitor with an office dead in the centre of the London City; and more. Surprisingly, Michelle got along really well with all of them; it was probably her mother’s acceptance that softened the scepticism of anyone who would doubt Em or her good intentions – and let’s face it, a long-lost relative showing up at that point to butter up ol’ dying mum was sure to raise some eyebrows. However, the fact that it was Jennifer that set the whole thing up and that Abigail loved spending time with her prodigal daughter was enough to set most people’s heart at ease. Little by little, Michelle was rebuilding her relationship with her family.

Abigail liked to go out in the hospital’s yard as often as she could, to get some fresh air: it was a good thing the season was advancing, and the days were becoming longer and warmer. Michelle, Jennifer and I didn’t mind pushing Abigail’s wheelchair along the path (she was too weak to walk for any significant distance), all the while chatting along; as I was getting to know Abigail I could see where Michelle got her cheeky personality.

It was late May when Abigail popped an unexpected question. Jennifer and Michelle had gone on ahead to sort something out with the hospital administration, which left me and Abigail alone, she on her wheelchair and me on a bench, sitting in the shade. She turned to me, an impish grin on her face, and asked: “So, Frank, do tell me. Are you having sex with my daughter?”

This time I really did blush. Red as a beet. “N-no,” I managed to sputter out.

“Why? Are you gay?”

Bi, actually. But that was beside the point. “No, it’s just… We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

“Frank,” she said, and put her hand on my arm. “I may be old and dying, but I’m not blind. I can see how you two look at each other. Why haven’t you hooked up yet?”

I considered her question. Why indeed. I sighed. “I’m scared. Of ruining what we have.”

She nodded. “I know that feeling. Me and my husbands, both the first and the second, were like that before we started dating.”

She looked up at the bright spring sky, shielding her face with her hand. “Well, everything in its own time. I have just a request for you.”

I looked at her. “Alright, what is it?”

She turned to me and looked at me dead in the eyes. “Don’t fuck this up.”

I stared in disbelief. Over the near month I’d known her, this was the first time I’d heard Abigail swear; usually she had a very polite, if needling, way of speech. I thought how I should answer that, and turned the reply over and over in my mind. What came out, in the end, was simply: “I promise I’ll do my best not to fuck this up.”

She smiled her cheeky smile again. “I’m glad.”

I was still thinking about her “request” the next week; it was Saturday, but we didn’t go visit her for the first time in a while, since May was giving way to June and it was time for Michelle’s boss’ wedding.