A December to Remember (32)
“No shit!” Star quipped, and was relieved to get a smile back. Maggie snickered in her arts-and-crafts tub chair.
“It’s just easier that way. I don’t know what will happen if I let all this stuff out. Sometimes I worry that if I start crying, I might never stop.”
“And what about Evette? Will she try?” Star asked.
Simone shook her head. “She wants a family, but it’s never been about the pregnancy for her. That’s always been me.” She was quiet, and Star could literally see her swallowing her feelings. “Perhaps I ought to consult with Perdita, maybe she could help me open up, do something to my chakras.”
“Christ, no!” said Star. “Don’t take lessons from her. My mother needs to learn to keep stuff in.”
“At least she’s open with you. My mum is a closed book. She is the consummate professional at all times; I am simply another side business in her portfolio,” said Simone.
“My mum wasn’t particularly open either,” piped up Maggie, whose eyes kept drooping as though she was fighting sleep. “I mean, she was loving and everything, I have no complaints, but she was very private; feelings were improper. She never let on when she was hurting. It must have killed her when she moved here, and Dad didn’t want to be with her, but you’d never have known it. She rallied—that was always her way.”
“When I first told my mum I’d started having sex, she drew me diagrams so I could show my boyfriend where to find my G-spot,” said Star. “That’s openness.”
“Okay, yep, that’s waaay too open,” said Simone, screwing her face up. “I’ll stick with Rene.”
“Oh my god, that’s hideous.” Maggie cackled. “I never discussed sex with my mum.”
“Nor me with mine,” said Simone. “When I told my mum I was gay, she told me not to make a song and dance about it.”
Star spluttered a laugh. “What does that even mean?”
Simone shrugged. “Who the hell knows! I won’t be like that with my children, child . . . if I have any.”
“Maybe the sale of some of this crap will be enough for another round of IVF?” Maggie suggested.
“I’m not sure it would make any difference at this point.” Simone twiddled her wedding ring. “I’ve spent so long focusing on becoming a mother that I stopped being a good wife.”
“Evette knows how hard this must be for you,” said Star. “She’s lovely. Far too nice for you.” She poked out her tongue, and Simone smiled.
“Even Evette has her limits. Trust me, I have pushed all the way to hers and back again.”
“That’s why you’ve booked the cottage,” said Maggie.
“Yeah. Evette thought some time apart would do us good. And if it doesn’t, I guess I’ll be moving in with you, Maggie.”
Maggie laughed, but Star caught something behind it that she was too drunk to place.
“Or you could move in here with me.” She grinned. “Roomies ride again.”
“Absolutely not,” Simone deadpanned.
There was a lull in the conversation as each sister disappeared into her own thoughts. The shop had its own set of noises: creaking pipes, the tick of the newly wound cuckoo clock, a dripping tap in the kitchenette, and the gentle hiss of the heater. It was all so familiar; this whole shop was a time capsule in which they were comfortably cocooned from the outside world.
“I’ve missed you two,” Star said quietly. “I do miss you.”
“I haven’t been anywhere but here,” said Maggie, a little defensively.
“But we’ve been distant, all of us have, emotionally I mean, as well as physically.”
“That’s true,” Maggie agreed.
“I’m afraid the company you keep has a lot to do with that, Star.” Simone raised her hands. “I’m not trying to start a fight, I’m simply stating a fact.”
That stung, but she let it pass. “I hear you, but I don’t accept that it’s the only reason.” Star kept her voice even. “We’ve been distant for years. I think it’s partly because we were only ever summer sisters, and outside of here our lives were poles apart. But we’re adults now, and I don’t believe that our different upbringings should make us irreconcilable. I’d like us to be, I don’t know, full-time sisters. You’re the only family I’ve got, apart from Perdita and, well, she’s . . . flaky at best.”
“I haven’t got any family other than you two and the kids,” agreed Maggie.
“You’re right. We shouldn’t take each other for granted,” Simone began, and for a moment Star wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “I adore Patrick and Verity and I’ve missed so much of their childhoods; I regret that. I haven’t been a very good aunty. I’d like to think that if I do ever become a mother, my children will at least know their aunties.”
“It is what it is.” Maggie shrugged. “Anyway, you always send birthday cards. Unlike Aunty Star . . .”
“I’m not good with dates,” Star protested. “But I always remember Christmas!”
“You’re not good at adulting—full stop.” Simone sneered.
“Ah, but you included me in the ‘aunties’ for your kids, so you must think I bring something to the party.”