Page 86 of Last Night
‘He met a woman online who he’d dated at college. Remember when Friends Reunited was a thing? My parents were unhappy anyway, but instead of Relate, my dad got into late-night emailing with “the one who got away”, then left my mum for her. She was in Adelaide.’
‘That is … well, ouch,’ Fin says.
‘Quite. It gets better, by which I mean worse, obviously. My brother Kieran goes out there aged twenty, my dad sets him up with a bar job. Kieran meets a girl, drops out of university, and stays. Can you imagine my mum after that phone call?’
Finlay is frowning, impassive. I get the impression he’s gone into professional mode.And how did that make you feel, Evelyn?
I drink more beer. I will want more beer, I can tell.
‘I’ve only been out to visit twice,’ I say. ‘It’s not very comfortable. My dad spends his whole time on salesman mode, showing off about what a great life it is. It was like he’s making a tourist board ad. His second wife Amelia has two sons in their twenties, who my dad seems to manage to be a very involved father to. So that’s nice, isn’t it? Glad to have been his practice slope.’
‘Has he never acknowledged how difficult it must’ve been for you?’
I shake my head. ‘When I cried or ranted at the time, I got told it was terribly hard for him too, but he wasn’t happy, and didn’t I want him to be happy? My dad’s pretty skilful at putting his feelings first.’
‘How did your mum manage?’
‘She rushed headlong into a short-lived second marriage with Nigel, a man who I can only describe as a human burp.’
‘A what?!’ Finlay says.
‘Like the personification of an egg belch. You’d have to meet Nige to understand it. I wouldn’t recommend it though. For the five years of their marriage, mother–daughter relations were strained. She ended up agreeing with me, but it somehow hasn’t made up for it. “Thanks for pointing out my spouse was awful, turns out you were in on the ground floor on that one” – things you’re never going to hear.’
Fin smiles, with sad eyes.
‘It’s just lost time we spent fighting. You should see me in the wedding photos. I wore a black lace birdcage veil. It’s like they invited the Babadook.’
I cackle.
‘You haven’t seen much of your brother since, then?’
‘No. We Skype every so often. I feel bad for him. He feels permanently guilty about going. It wasn’t his fault. He was never very academic, struggling at his degree, goes out to visit Dad and suddenly it’s sunshine, beers, a wage from bar work, a girl. Of course he stayed. Now his life’s out there, and that’s that. Mum feels he chose Dad.’
Hmmm didn’t I once tell mum she had to let go of her justified bitterness about things she couldn’t change, to be happy? Or else ‘her demons would eat her’? (Always the dramatic Goth.) Who needs to take that advice now, I wonder? Never try to be wise aged 25, it will bite you fully on the arse later.
‘Of course. Divorce is a shitshow of competing interests and kids often end up being the brokers.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘It must’ve felt like every single member of your family deserted you, one after another,’ Finlay says. ‘Including your mum. Into that marriage.’
I stare at him, for a second, stunned. ‘Yes.Yes.That’s exactly how it felt … I’m no longer surprised at you being an in-demand psychologist not psychiatrist.’
Finlay smiles and runs his hand through his hair. How many women fall in a version of God-worship doctor love with him, after he fixes their feelings? Or feel their feelings, however this works.
‘That was just basic empathy,’ he says. ‘It’s a helluva tale.’
I nod: ‘Thanks, I’ve not told it for a while. I’d kind of forgotten that it was. I’mallowedto be a damaged loser.’
Fin smiles, but ignores this.
‘How do you think it’s affected you? I will admit that’s a bit of a therapy session question. No charge, however. Except another one of these.’ He points at our drinks and my spirits lift, as I’d been hoping we’d stay.
‘Deal! Hmmm, how’s it affected me.’ I’d actually never askedmyself this. ‘I think …’ I pause, as a pain has appeared under my ribs, without warning. ‘I think I stopped expecting good things to happen to me, after all that.’
Finlay looks at me intently.
‘I know exactly what you mean.’
