The Strange Year of Vanessa M Read online

  “Hello Dear! Don’t you remember me?” asked Sheila, giving Vanessa two smacking kisses on either cheek. “I’m Ruben’s mother.”

  “Ah, of course I remember,” lied Vanessa, who rarely went to parent-teacher meetings and, when she had to go, kept as close to the door as possible and took off afterwards before there was any interaction with other parents.

  “Hey, I have something for you,” said her husband as he walked to the desk and took out some papers. “Sheila, can you give us a minute? I’ll bring you your special cocktail in a minute.”

  Sheila went wiggling out, her big thighs quivering. Vanessa was lost for words. She was still recovering from the shock when her husband handed her the papers he’d taken from the drawer. Divorce papers.

  “I’d like you to read everything carefully and we’ll talk it over later. I was going to send you them by post, but then I thought it was more polite to give them to you personally, seeing as you were coming here.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am. What did you expect?”

  “Two months, all you needed was two months separation and ten years together go down the drain just like that?”

  “All you needed was a few minutes, which was the time it took for you to announce you were moving out. But look, let’s not discuss this now, I don't want to spoil the party for Mimi.”

  “You’re right,” answered Vanessa, as she stuffed the papers into the bottom of her handbag.

  She turned her back on him and went out into the garden, hoping the sunshine and the children’s laughter would soothe her spirits. It was difficult not to look at Sheila, who was now chatting away with Diana, out of the corner of her eye. Vanessa waited long enough to be certain that Diana had all the information she needed – fifteen minutes was usually enough – and then summoned her for debriefing.

  “Who’s your new friend?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Friend? Vanessa, for the love of God, don't tell me you’re jealous? You know you’re my best friend and always will be, don’t you? We’re kindred spirits, remember?”

  “Yes, and so what? What do you know about this Sheila?”

  “Well, here goes; Sheila is a property broker with that agency with the green awning, beside the Italian’s café. Do you know the one I mean? And she lives near the market, in those brown apartment blocks, social housing. Not that she’s exactly poor you know, she’s actually from a middle-class family and used to live in one of those villas near the pond, but her husband died of leukaemia three years ago and left her almost penniless and with two young children, you know how the treatment costs a fortune, and at the time she wasn't working; she couldn't work either because she had to look after him and take him to one doctor after another, you know what it’s like…”

  At this point, Vanessa switched off. Firstly because she felt bad about having judged Sheila on appearances when it turned out she was just a lonely widow with two children to support, who needed to attract attention. And secondly because when it came to depressing stories her own life was enough. The pity – compassion factor helped her tolerate her presence better, but on the other hand she couldn't suppress a certain rage at seeing her being so flirtatious with her husband.

  “She’s a nice bit of stuff for a widow, isn't she?” It just jumped out.

  “Oh Vanessa, how unlike you! What a spiteful comment to make... I mean I know she’s a bit of a tease, but she’s a widow after all, not a nun. I think she’s quite right to strut around like that. You want a woman in her prime to wear black and shut herself up at home for the rest of her life, like they used to?”

  “No, but doesn't she realize I’m here? Does she have to throw herself at my husband right in front of me, at my daughter’s birthday party?”

  “But Darling, that’s a problem you’re going to have to face from now on, you might as well get used to it, he’s no longer your husband in practice, is he? And don’t tell me you haven't had a roll in the hay with anyone else yet”

  “Me? Of course not!”

  “Well more fool you, then. You could at least sleep around a bit now that you’re separated. You especially, that’s never been with another man. Don’t you feel like experimenting? And while we’re at it, how can you take it, so many months without sex? I’d go mad; I swear I would. I’m already crawling up the walls after just a week. Whenever Victor’s on the road it’s a torment, and that’s basically every other week. So I’m left to my own devices, aren’t I? It’s like a fever that creeps over my body; you don't want to know. It’s more than I can handle! And don't look at me with that expression on your face, you know I love my husband, but some feelings are just too strong, and I bet he plays away from home as well, if he doesn't he’s daft like you.”

  Another child and respective parents were arriving and Vanessa used this as an excuse to get away from Diana’s silly prattle. It was another of Mimi’s friends whose name she didn't know. But she hadn't come only with her parents. She was followed by her grandparents, her two twin brothers who looked like terrible pests – to judge by the way they almost knocked over the cake when they took off running into the garden – and a young baby who must have been no more than a month old. Vanessa greeted them as politely as she could, trying to remember a name, something, anything she could say to conceal the fact she had no idea who they were.

  “If you want you can leave the boys here too, it’s really no problem. Don’t worry, off you go, they’re in safe hands,” Vanessa said.

  “Oh that’s all right, we’ll stay,” answered the child’s mother. “That way we won't have to go and come back again, we live quite far away.”

  Vanessa tried to hide her amazement. What made a whole family willingly remain in a children’s birthday party without even knowing the child’s parents, or anyone else for that matter? Vanessa used to get a headache just collecting her daughter from parties like these, let alone staying around to make polite conversation. Didn't they have anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon?

  “Ah… well, in that case, make yourselves home,” she said, throwing back her glass of sangria in a single gulp.

  And make themselves at home was exactly what they did. The grandparents planted themselves down at the table, each heaping a paper plate with a pyramid of croquettes, sausage rolls, chocolate cake, pineapple mousse and jelly; the father made straight for the pitcher of sangria without a word to anyone, presumably taking his chance to get a few minutes’ peace from his numerous family; and the mother simply pulled up a chair, and there in the garden, in front of everyone, children and adults alike, popped out a boob and began feeding the baby she held in her arms.

  Vanessa took a deep breath and went to sit beside her aunt, who was playing with the children. She’d never known anyone with so much patience and love for children. Maybe it was because she had no kids herself. She’d learned to spread all her love around the children of others. Vanessa’s mother was spying on them from the kitchen window. Vanessa decided to go on a peace mission. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for everything her mother had missed out on in life. All the prejudice that gnawed away at her mind and prevented her from being happy. She knew there was no malice in the things she did and said. It was just what she believed. And to stop believing in these things would be to admit that her whole life had been a mistake. At the age of sixty, that would be tragic. She hugged her from behind and whispered in her ear:

  “I know you don’t understand or approve of my decisions, but I want you to know I love you.”

  Her mother didn't move. It wasn't her style to back down, but Vanessa could feel her breathing deeply. When their eyes met a little later, the look of opprobrium had left them. You couldn't say the same of her in-laws. All the good manners in the world were not enough to hide the reproach in their eyes.

  As they didn’t feel comfortable openly expressing their opinion about the situation, they took their revenge on Vanessa by being excessively pleasant with Sheila. Vanessa didn't
know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh because she knew Sheila represented everything her mother-in-law found abhorrent in a woman, especially in view of her father-in-law’s track record as a womanizer with a taste for just that kind, the voluptuous, flirtatious blonde. And cry because she could feel the malice in their behaviour. Why couldn’t they put themselves in her place? Was it so strange to question the life we lead and look for an alternative that can make us less unhappy? Was it better to keep a marriage going until all we feel for each other is hate? And all we see in the other’s eyes is resentment?

  “She’s never been the same since her breakdown, poor thing, and my son did his best to help her but these mental illnesses… It’s better that way, after all it doesn't do my granddaughter any good at all, growing up with a deranged mother, does it?” she heard her mother-in-law whispering to Sheila. Not that whispering is exactly the right word, for when Vanessa’s mother-in-law whispered the whole world could hear.

  She decided it would be better if she left. The cake had been devoured, parents were beginning to arrive to take their children home, and her husband had already made it clear he didn’t need any help tidying up.

  On the way back to her aunt’s house, Vanessa was unable to speak. Only when she parked the car did she finally manage a question, “Why are people so nasty?”

  “Are you talking about anyone in particular?” asked her aunt.

  “No. I was thinking about my mother-in-law, but lots of other people besides. My boss, that colleague of mine I told you about who’s always trying to score points off me, Mimi’s friends’ parents who are always giving me the glance askance as if I was a murderer or something like that, Diana, who’s not a bad soul but she’s always so envious of other people’s lives, search me…”

  “My dear Vanessa, the most important thing you’ll learn as you go through life is that most people you’re going to meet are nasty, dull or envious. Some of them are even all three things at the same time, which makes them truly unbearable. The only thing that stops any human being who’s aware of this fact from becoming a hermit is that there’s a small percentage of people who are the antithesis of all that. In fact they’re such special people that every instant you spend with them, no matter how short, makes all the rest irrelevant. And bearable, above all.”

  “People like you, Auntie…”

  “Oh, my dear... I’m no saint.”

  “You are for me.”

  Alone in her room, Vanessa fell to pieces again. After nearly five months of therapy and two away from home, she felt more lost than ever. She was no longer suffocating with tedium like before, but she felt less and less sure of the choices she was making. Some days she felt peaceful and happy with her new routine, with the quality time she was spending with her daughter, her social life with her new friends, her freedom to make decisions without having to think about what others needed or wanted. On other days she just felt infinitely lonely, forsaken, contemned, the worst mother in the world, frustrated by the mediocrity that surrounded her, especially at work, and dependent on her aunt for the roof above her head. It was on days like those she couldn't bear the sight of a couple walking hand in hand or a family playing in the park or a boisterous, laughing group of adolescents. Even her aunt’s good mood irritated her. Always with a smile on her face, always serene, always seeing the good side of things and people. How it got on her nerves! No one can be so happy all the time. Or can they? No, they can’t. Human beings are not made for being happy and grateful for what they’ve got. It’s restlessness that makes the human race progress. At least that’s what Vanessa always told herself to explain the sadness, which was taking hold of her, to calm the tears, which fell uncontrollably.

  Then she thought about her aunt’s words, how most people were nasty, dull or envious. Wasn't Vanessa herself one of these people? Hadn't she been nasty to judge Sheila, Diana, that family that showed up at Mimi’s party? And wasn't she dull? If she wasn't, how come she had no friends? How come her phone never rang? And how many times had she envied other people? Their lives, their happiness? We all think we belong to the perfect minority. We all think we’re good, honest, intelligent people. At the most, we’ll admit to defects like stubbornness, ingenuousness, and impetuosity. But no one says I’m a terrible egoist or I’m a total bimbo or I’m rather ignorant. No. That evening, Vanessa didn’t feel part of that small percentage of people that made the world bearable. She just felt as if she was one more profoundly insignificant being, insignificant and pathetic.

  2.

  In the next few days, Vanessa couldn’t shake off the gloom that enveloped her. Only an e-mail from Mimi with photographs from the party made her smile. She looked long at each photograph with mixed feelings, which is how all her feelings had been for some time now. On the one hand, she felt a certain joy to see a family there, a family that for better or worse was still hers. On the other she felt a certain relief, coloured with guilt, at not having to put up with them every day.

  “What a nice cake! Where’s that from?” asked a female co-worker passing behind her.

  “It’s the cake I made for my daughter’s birthday,” Vanessa answered.

  “You made that? I don't believe it!”

  “I did. It turned out well, actually,”

  “I never knew you were good at these things! How much do you charge for a cake like that? I’d like to have one like that for my son’s birthday.”

  “Err… I don't know, I’ve never sold them…”

  “Think about it, then. His birthday is in three weeks time.”

  When she looked up, every mother in the room was looking over at her monitor and praising her effusively. She’d never thought about it, but maybe she could make some cakes like these and sell them. It would always be a little extra cash, which she could set aside and maybe one day find a house just for herself. She was grateful to her aunt, and her aunt had never given her the slightest sign that she was sick of her presence, but she was beginning to get tired of so much esotericism, all the New Age philosophy. And above all, the sex in the room next door; her aunt and Frank were like a couple of adolescents, with the added disadvantage that while adolescents get it all over and done with in ten minutes, intercourse for these two took at least an hour. And that was without taking into account the fact she’d seen Frank in the nude more times than she ought; the last time was when she came home after a refreshing run and found him in an upside-down yoga position in the middle of the living room. Head on the floor, feet in the air, flaccid tackle hanging down. She’d definitely look into the cake idea.

  As she found out about prices, quantities and type of cake, her enthusiasm grew. According to her calculations, if she made about four cakes a month, began taking public transport to work and always took a packed lunch, she’d be able to save enough to pay the rent on a small one-bedroom apartment near her aunt’s house. That was all she needed; after all, Mimi would only come to sleep over on certain weekends, and when she did they could always share a bed. Her new plans made her drop her guard, and ‘the Hellcat’ caught her out. She got another reprimand from her boss for using company time and resources for her own purposes, and to make things worse she learned that the new client’s account was going to be transferred to the team of ‘the Hellcat’ – and there was an exemplary, dedicated employee for her.

  “But what’s her problem?” Vanessa asked after three good swigs of stout in the Irish pub.

  “Lack of sex, for sure,” answered Johnny.

  “No, it’s not. Don’t you know the story?” asked another co-worker.

  No, Vanessa didn't know the story, which once again reminded her of how out of touch she’d been these last few years. But she wasn't the only one who didn't know; and she now found out.

  Until a few years previously, ‘the Hellcat’ had been a normal person. She wasn’t exactly Miss Simpatico, but she wasn't a bad sort either. She was due to be married to her long-term boyfriend, a big-shot lawyer she liked to show off at the company’
s Christmas parties. They were going to buy a house, they were going to travel around Asia for a month for their honeymoon, and they were going to have two children. They’d been going to do all these things for about eight years, but they’d never got around to doing them and now she was thirty-six. One day she got pregnant, ‘by accident’. This was her big opportunity. She wouldn’t get her honeymoon in Asia, but she’d have something stronger to bind their love. Except it turned out her love was unrequited, and when her boyfriend heard the news he confessed he’d found someone else, someone he wanted to marry. To get the child off his back he asked her to move out (the house was his), for he intended giving her no more than an allowance to cover food costs, and everyone knows how difficult it is to bring up a child unassisted. Then he defriended her on Facebook and where have you – a grave insult in the 21st century.

  Stunned and distraught, ‘the Hellcat’ not only had an abortion but also had a fallopian clamp put in, which was basically an act of self-mutilation, compensation for not being able to put a clamp on her heart. From that day on she’d made life hell for everyone around her. As if her failure to find happiness meant that no one else should be happy either. The only living beings that elicited any feeling from her were her cats, all twelve of them, according to the latest reports. She rescued them from the street. Mutilated, in shreds, like she was.

  “Leave her be, Vanessa. She’s an unhappy woman,” said Johnny.