The Strange Year of Vanessa M Read online

  After an hour in a waiting room full of yelling children and cowed parents, they were finally called. Surprise, Mimi was overdue for a vaccination. And for Mimi needles were a nightmare. She had to be mentally prepared in advance and promised a present so she wouldn’t make a scene. And the scene was much worse when she was taken by surprise, as in this case. It took an hour to persuade her to uncross her arms and let the nurse do her work. The demands started as soon as they’d left the doctor’s.

  “I want my present!”

  Vanessa was ready to snap. She hated it when her daughter acted like a spoiled brat. I want? How about Please? Or I wouldn’t mind? Or Could I? She knew it was all her fault, for putting up with that kind of behaviour whenever it suited her. She’d replaced discipline with toys too many times. But on that day, Vanessa wasn’t going to give in.

  “There’s no time to buy presents today, Mimi. We’ll go tomorrow.”

  ”Why not?”

  “Because it’s after seven and the shops are closing.”

  “But you promised…” Mimi insisted.

  “I know I did, darling, and I’ll keep my promise. But not today, all right?”

  “But I didn’t cry even a little bit, and you said.”

  “I know I said, but it’s too late now. If you hadn't thrown a tantrum for an hour maybe we would have had time. Now we’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

  “So, why can't we go to the shopping centre? The shops there are open at night.”

  “Mimi, I told you no, please don't insist, OK?”

  The child began to cry quietly with a forced weeping whose only function is to get on adults’ nerves. Vanessa took a deep breath and watched the passers-by, nervously tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel. The traffic light turned red and from the other side of the street a bookshop sign was shining. Open.

  “Mummy look, that shop’s open! You can buy me a book!”

  “Mimi, I’ve already told you I’m not going to stop the car to go and buy some stupid book at this time of night, did you hear me? I’m not going to, and if you keep insisting you won't get it tomorrow either!”

  “Pleeeeeeeeeaase!”

  As Vanessa gave no answer to this, the child insisted.

  “Daddy would stop if he was here. You’re bad. I want daddy. Daaaaaaddy! Daaaaaaddy!”

  And that’s when it happened. When she quite literally lost her mind. As soon as the traffic light turned green, she pulled the car over to the pavement and made her daughter get out.

  “You want your father, do you? Go on, then. Go to him. Go on, get out of the car and go to him.”

  Mimi was speechless. She didn't even try to answer. She just stood there on the pavement, unable even to cry, watching her mother drive away at top speed. Vanessa had only meant to scare the child. Obviously she wasn't going to leave her there in the street. She would drive round the block, which would take about three minutes, and get her back in the car. What Vanessa hadn't expected was for a policeman to be in the vicinity, and although he hadn't seen the incident he did see a child crying, alone at the roadside. A little girl who like all little girls tells the truth as well as she can, which in this instance was something like, ‘My mummy left me here and she went away and now I don't know how to get to my daddy.’

  When Vanessa got to the place she’d left Mimi, a scene was in full progress. The cop had called a patrol car and they were getting ready to find out whom the child’s heartless parents were. Vanessa went running up to them and told the cop her story quite matter-of-factly, emphasizing that she only wanted to give her daughter a fright to put an end to a tantrum. The cop, who obviously had no children of his own, had no comprehension of the nervous destruction a creature barely four and a half feet high can wreak on a healthy, well-adjusted adult. He didn’t see things the way Vanessa did. He took her to the station where she was charged with neglect of a minor, as it was nearly half past eight in the evening she had to stay there the night, until being taken before a judge the following morning. She couldn’t even look her husband in the eye when he came, in disbelief, to collect Mimi from the police station to take her home.

  The judge who heard her case agreed with the cop. It was unacceptable for a mother to abandon her child on a public thoroughfare, exposing her to the risk of kidnapping, sexual abuse, road accident or irreversible psychological trauma. The sentence was four months in prison or forty sessions of professional therapy.

  That was why Vanessa now thought her daughter would be better off without her. It was bad enough having seen her mother get arrested, without having to be brought up by a mother everyone thought was mad, just because she’d done something thousands of mothers want to do when their children start whining in enclosed spaces where there’s no way out. She had become a bored, indifferent mother who didn't even remember to warn her when she couldn’t collect her from school; she also thought the therapy sessions would be more useful to the child than to her.

  6.

  Monday morning, nine o’clock, as soon as the lift doors opened, the heavy atmosphere of the office hit her like a punch in the stomach. Her head down, Vanessa made her way to her grey cubicle, where a message from her boss was waiting for her, ‘Come and speak to me when you arrive.’ As if Vanessa was the type to sneak in and not offer any reasons. She took off her coat, put down her handbag and went straight to the aquarium, the name everyone gave to the boss’s office, which was nothing more than a glass box in the middle of the open-plan office.

  “Hello. You wanted to talk to me?”

  “Just to tell you you’re up for a disciplinary hearing.”

  “What? What for? If it’s because…”

  “Quiet! I’ll do the talking here!” He shouted. “Missing work on a Friday is unacceptable without a good reason. Do you think this is some kind of free-for-all? And on top of that you have someone call in for you, as if it was too unimportant for you to waste your time on. You jeopardized the status meeting, and that, my dear lady, can't be justified with a doctor’s note. So get ready.”

  Vanessa couldn’t believe this was happening. She could get a doctor’s note explaining her absence. And anyway, the status meeting often took place without all of the team members being present. It was a mere formality, of no great consequence outside the team itself. She decided not to react. She didn't have the strength to anyway, and deep down she knew it was all intimidation, meant to scare her and show everyone else in the office that her boss had real authority. She could feel her co-workers looking towards the boss’s office, tying to make out what all the shouting was about.

  “Is that all?” she asked, gazing at the floor.

  “No, it’s not all. I want those reports on the new client on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. See that they’re here!”

  “Anything else?”

  “No. You can go.”

  Vanessa stood up and went to her cubicle, which now looked greyer than ever. She put on her earphones with music at full volume and concentrated on the unenviable task of getting the reports ready by the ridiculously tight deadline her boss had given her.

  On the other side of the room ‘the Hellcat’ was leaning against the coffee machine, smiling ironically. As she passed near Vanessa she murmured, “You’re always scoring points, you are.” Vanessa couldn’t believe her ears. Why? Why are there people who are only happy when others are unhappy? Who feels glad to see others make a mess of things? Don't they have lives of their own? Don't they have their own problems to deal with? Is it so good to see others suffer? Vanessa couldn’t understand this need and constantly wondered if she’d done something wrong to be the target of so much cynicism.

  By six in the afternoon the reports were far from ready, but Vanessa didn't want to let her daughter down again. She’d promised to collect her from school to make up for her disappearance. And after what her boss had told her that morning, two hours’ absence wasn't going to make the situation any worse.

  “I have to go and get my little g
irl from school, but I’ll be back afterwards to finish the reports. See you later.” She didn't wait for his permission.

  In the car, she was overwhelmed by the urge to take off somewhere. Her car was a like a spaceship that could carry her off to a different world, a temptation. She’d not even worked eight hours and she already felt like it was Friday. She controlled her impulse and went to collect Mimi.

  Her daughter was waiting at the school gate with a heart-breaking expression in her eyes, her gaze was lost on the horizon, and Vanessa knew why. It was the uncertainty caused by all those broken promises of the last few months; Mimi had lost that trust that children have in their parents, that certainty that they’ll show up, take care of them, protect them, even when the kids in the playground shout with the malice typical of their seven years of age, ‘Your mother doesn't love you.’ Unaware that a long embrace and a few minutes’ genuine attention was all her daughter needed, Vanessa decided to go and buy her a doll.

  The shop was a little out of the way, but it was worth the detour. It was the shop all little girls dreamed of or at least all little girls who prefer dolls to worms from the park. The entrance was done up to look like a doll’s house, and inside everything was on little girl scale, the chairs, the shelves, the display cabinets. Mimi could hardly contain her joy at this unexpected detour. Normally she only got to go to that shop on her birthday, and that was still some months away. The dolls were prohibitively expensive.

  After taking a few minutes to choose, Vanessa finally made for the checkout to pay for the doll. Now she could leave Mimi in her mother’s house without feeling too guilty. As she waited while the attendant fixed all kinds of ribbon to the bag, she heard a familiar voice.

  “Ah! At last! My Princess Tata!”

  “Oh, how nice to see you. Oh but you didn’t have to hurry here. We’d have kept the doll as long as necessary, you know,” answered the attendant with an enormous smile.

  “Of course I did,” returned the voice. “I’ve been waiting months for this moment. I can hardly wait to take her home and complete my collection. Complete so far, of course.”

  “If you’d just like to accompany me to the checkout, I’ll have your doll all nice and wrapped up right away, as usual.”

  Vanessa froze. She couldn't move a millimetre. She couldn't even turn round to confirm what her ears were telling her. But there was no way to avoid it. He came up and stood right beside her at the counter. She couldn't pretend not to have seen him. What now? How did she get out of this one?

  “Hello boss,” she said timidly.

  Now he was the one who was rooted to the spot. Even in profile, Vanessa could see him blushing. In fact his complexion was lilac, and Vanessa finally understood where the expression, ‘purple with shame’ came from.

  “Vanessa, fancy meeting you here! What a coincidence,” he stammered. ‘I came to get a present for my niece; it’s her birthday tomorrow. If I’d known you were coming here I’d have asked you to collect it for me instead of coming here myself.”

  “Ah, your niece, of course... I didn't know I was coming either. It was a last-minute decision before taking Mimi home. But I’m going back to the office just now,” Vanessa said, well aware there was no such niece.

  “Listen don’t worry about that. It turns out the report isn't as urgent as I thought. You can hand it in tomorrow during the day.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course, off you go home with your daughter.”

  Vanessa returned to her car, trying to process what had just happened. As soon as she closed the door she had a laughing fit. Her boss collected dolls? Dolls? He certainly didn’t have a daughter or niece, and Vanessa recalled seeing a doll brochure on his desk once. At the time she’d assumed it was junk mail. What was she going to do now? How could she ever take him seriously? She already had little or no respect for him as a professional, but this latest development had relegated him to the level of a fungus. Yet with his sudden change of tack about the report, she realized this was a card she could play to her advantage. Would he start treating her better now, she wondered?

  The answer, as Vanessa saw in the following days, was yes. Except now he had a new victim, the young girl with the plastic-rimmed glasses. Poor thing. Vanessa gave it a month before she’d be crying in the bathroom every day. She’d seen this film dozens of times now. She’d found out her boss was a collector of dolls, but that didn’t make things any easier to endure and every day the heavy atmosphere of the office continued to hit her like a punch in the stomach.

  April

  1.

  “I’d like to take up the topic of your disappearance again. You didn't want to talk about it at the time. What about now? Are you ready to talk about it?” her analyst asked as soon as Vanessa entered his consulting room.

  No. She wasn't ready. She really didn't want to talk about it. Her disappearance was just one thread in the ball of despair that trapped her. An unhappy episode that only made her feel worse, guiltier towards her daughter, more distant from her husband. It was the elephant in the room; everyone saw it but preferred to ignore it and pretend everything was all right. Except this elephant was growing and growing, feeding on the tedium and the silence.

  “I was irritated when I left here, I felt like driving,” she answered.

  “Irritated or bored?” asked her analyst, leafing through his notes.

  “Irritated, bored, what difference does it make? It all adds up to the same thing; I’m sick of it all and I need to change something in my life.”

  “That’s a good start.”

  “What is? Being sick of it all?”

  “No. Deciding something in your life has to change. Coming to that conclusion is a good start. Now all you have to do is find out what you want to change.”

  “Is that all? Really?” asked Vanessa, ironically. “Is that why I’m coming here? So you can spout clichés and platitudes?”

  She didn't know where all this aggressiveness was coming from; it wasn’t the kind to answer she would usually give, especially not to a member of the medical profession. She shrank back on the couch, ashamed. The analyst scribbled in his notepad, impassively. She felt a wave of heat invade her body and took off her coat.

  “Can I open the window?” she asked, making her way towards it.

  “The windows in this building don't open. But I can turn up the air conditioning, if you want.”

  Of course the windows didn't open; this was a psychiatrist’s practice on the twenty-second floor. There must be plenty of nutcases with suicidal tendencies. But she could still look out at the street. The people down below as tiny as ants, going about their lives, their orderly existences, wasting no time, for time is money and there isn't enough to go around, so why bother looking or smiling at other people. Where did they get their energy? Vanessa had lost hers so long ago. The effort it cost her to get out of bed, put a smile on her face and play the part of mother and homemaker, the prodigal daughter, the employee who’s grateful just to have a job, it was all so much there was nothing left for anything else. Something had to change. Drastically.

  “I’m going to leave home,” she said.

  Her analyst could scarcely conceal his surprise. He scratched his head with his long fingernails and cocked his eyebrow three times in a row, as if it was a nervous tic. Vanessa was surprised too. The idea seemed to have come to her right in that instant, the moment the words took form on her lips. Five words that popped out of their own accord and that now, once uttered, made perfect sense.

  “Are you? Isn't that too drastic a change? Won't it affect your stability?”

  “Stability. What’s stability? Living the same life for over ten years? With the same people, the same routines, the same job? Look where stability’s left me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Her analyst went back to his scribbling and eyebrow raising.

  “I can't take any more. That house suffocates me. As if the walls were closing in on me a little more every day. I can't
even look at my husband any more. I cringe every time he touches me. It’s a physical reaction, you know? I don't do it on purpose. And it fills me with despair, because there was times I wanted to stick to him like glue, when I liked his smell and found the things he said were funny. And not even my daughter will keep me there. I’ve brought her up, I’ve helped her grow and now her happiness irritates me instead of giving me inner peace. Always jumping around, always asking questions, always wanting to tell stories, always being a child. I’ve never really liked children, you know? Can I smoke?” she asked, rummaging in her handbag for her pack of cigarettes.

  “No Vanessa. There’s no smoking in this building,” answered her analyst.

  “Of course…” And she went on with her outburst, pacing the floor nervously. “The worst thing is, I know, deep down, that I do feel some kind of love, in my own way. But the love is so far away I can't see it. Not now... At the dinner table, while I pretend to be interested in the conversation, I look for the little things that once made me fall in love, a smile, an expression, a way of holding a knife and fork, anything. But I can't find anything. It’s like I was at the table with two strangers. They’re not my husband and daughter. I don't know them. And I can't keep up the pretence. It’s because I love them I have to get away. Sometimes love isn't enough. It isn't enough just now.”

  Vanessa felt an enormous calm take possession of her. Finally she was saying what she didn't even know she felt, without the weight of guilt, without the shame. Without thinking she was a monster. She stopped in front of the window, looking at the darkening sky. It was going to rain and this time she wanted to get wet. She wanted to stand in the rain until it soaked through her clothes and she felt it on her skin. She wanted to turn her face to the clouds and drink the raindrops, like she’d done when she was a kid. There were twenty minutes till the end of the session and she had nothing else to say, no matter how much her analyst coaxed her. Where was she going? What did her husband think of this? What will her daughter think? Vanessa ignored him. For the first time, that one-hour with the analyst felt too long. She stood there looking down at the street, smiling, proud of herself, while her analyst observed her discreetly and scribbled frantically in his stupid little notebook. When she left, she decided she’d walk home. She could pick up her car the next day. She walked slowly, for an hour, the rain finally falling, cleansing her soul.