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She told me she saw Patrick put the rubber band in his pocket when he thought no one was looking. “Because he loves you.”
woke up with no feeling in my hands and arms.
because my mother said why would anyone want to if they didn’t have to?
But I was only alright when I was in that room, with him.
It hurt to talk, to breathe, to cry, to eat, to read, to hear music, to be in a room with other people, and to be by myself.
Because I did not want people to think my father was not a good parent.
with the briefest look at my father,
he had been making sure I was never, ever alone.
“You do not love him—deep down. You are just a bit lost.”
THE NIGHT I got engaged to Jonathan was also the night I found out,
that Patrick had been in love with me since 1994.
It wasn’t sympathy I had seen on his face, earlier, at the table, and that was why it was unbearable: someone conveying love while everyone else laughed at me.
My father leaned over to do up my seatbelt and at every set of traffic lights on the journey home, he reached across the divide and squeezed my hand, saying my lovely girl, my lovely girl, until the lights changed and he had to drive on.
he invited me to spend time in his study like I was seventeen—he
He looked the same. I had moved in and out of an apartment, been married, abroad, ill and thrown out, and Patrick was wearing the shirt he’d had on at Jonathan’s dinner, the last time I had seen him.
He felt like my brother, and never asked why I was twenty-six and jobless and living with my parents and why I only owned one outfit.
The only thing Patrick said, turning his head but
avoiding my eye, was, “I hope you’re okay.”
“I just thought it probably hasn’t been the best day and maybe you’d want company when you woke up. But you’re absolutely fine, so that’s great. I’ll get going.”
I said, “Do you love me, Patrick?”
“I am not being whimsical, Martha. Short another, beauty is a reason to live.”
I was so lonely without my father,
At the museum, I sat for a long time in front of a painting that was his favorite because, he said, it wasn’t typical
I was only conscious of myself in terms of Patrick; whether I was, just then, being looked at by him, if so how he perceived me. My bearing and my expression, the direction of my gaze—it was all for Patrick.
“Just that feeling of like, thank God when you see that person. Martha, do you know what I’m talking about?”
I said yes. Thank God is how I felt when I saw Patrick that day.
“No, it’s fine” because she does not want to leave him, standing here,
She worries that he would be gone when she gets back because this is where he said he didn’t love her and never had and there is no chance he wasn’t instantly aware of that too.
And if he waited for her, it would only be to say, “Do you know what, I’m pretty tired. I should let you go.”
Sometimes he was late and so sorry although I never minded waiting.
“What was the worst thing about Jonathan?”
the worst thing is that I thought he was funny because he made everything sound like a joke.
“Probably, the worst thing to me was the tan.”
“and being there when he proposed to you.”
“Seeing you say yes and not being able to stop it.”
He hadn’t asked why not. Only said, “That’s interesting. I’ve always imagined myself having children. But I guess just in the way everyone does.”
“Martha, we need an objective. I am worried we’re risking our lives only to end up at a Pizza Express that will make you sad if it’s empty and anxious if it’s full.” I did not know how he knew that about me.
while we were waiting for the water to boil, I told him that I loved him.
Patrick turned around and leaned against the counter, folded his arms loosely and asked me to marry him.
Afterwards he drove me home and I apologized for being weird. He said, “Everyone has bad days.”
I said, “If you are serious, why aren’t you kneeling down?”
belonged to a woman he loved who we could only assume would have hated me—by
“It doesn’t matter if you’re unhappy. It’s not a good enough reason. If you’re just bored and it’s all a bit hard and you don’t
feel like you love them anymore, who cares. You made a deal.”
“Everything is broken and messed up and completely fine. That is what life is. It’s only the ratios that change. Usually on their own. As soon as you think that’s it, it’s going to be like this forever, they change again.”
I think because I wanted to see what kind of person he would be—if, being married to a woman like that meant he would be good.
MY FATHER RANG and asked if I could come into town and have lunch with him.
“Stop it. Martha, seriously. Stop. I’ve had enough.” “Of what? Of me?” “No. Damn it.”
“You leave it lying around, Martha. You don’t even throw the empty packets away. You just shove them in a drawer or leave them on the floor somewhere for me to pick up. I mean, I assume they’re for me to pick up since that’s what we do, isn’t it? You make a mess and I clean up after you, like it’s my job.”
You think all this has happened to you and only you. That’s what I saw yesterday. It’s your terrible personal tragedy, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to be in pain.
