‘Dad, that’s ridiculous,’ I say. ‘I thought you hated each other.’
He makes a scoffing noise and says, ‘That’s all behind us now, pussycat. Your mum is the one for me. I’m moving back in this week.’
Oh, great, they’re taking it slow then.
I sigh. ‘OK, cool. Well. I guess, congratulations? And thanks for letting me know.’
‘Thanks, pussycat,’ he says happily. ‘I better go, but tell Lauren and that boy of hers congrats on the elopement.’
Just as I hang up, my phone rings again. It’s Mum this time.
‘Lilah?’ she says excitedly when I answer. ‘You’ll never guess what!’
I give it a beat. ‘You and Dad are getting back together?’ I say, unenthused.
There’s a shocked silence before she answers. ‘How did you... ? How could you possibly... ?’ She pauses and then shrieks, ‘He told you already? That bastard! He said we would take one child each – he’d ring Tom and I could tell you. I can’t believe him! I wondered why you were going straight through to voicemail. He is a lying arsehole. I can’t believe I ever thought he’d changed.’
Well, then, this didn’t last long.
I clear my throat. ‘Hold on, Mum, I’m sure he was just too excited to wait, and I bet Tom didn’t answer his phone so he—’
She cuts me off. ‘Hold on, I’m calling that piece of shit and putting him on conference call. Stay on the line.’
‘No, wait,’ I say, panicky. I really don’t need to be involved in this, but she’s already muted me.
I sigh. I can’t keep doing this.
They return a minute later and they’re already shouting at each other.
‘We had an agreement!’ Mum shouts. ‘You are a liar, just like you always were.’
Dad shouts back, ‘You’ve got it wrong, you stupid bird-brained cow. Don’t blame me for your stupidity. I said I would call my pussycat and you could try and get hold of the other one.’
‘Why would I agree to that?’ Mum shrieks. ‘We both know Tom won’t answer, that’s why you said I could do Lilah. I thought you were finally being thoughtful and putting someone else first. But you could never change, could you, you dung monkey?’
I’m not sure they even remember I’m here, and I consider just hanging up and letting them go at it. But curiosity gets the better of me.
‘HEY,’ I shout over them, and they are momentarily quiet. ‘Are you not getting back together after all then?’ I say, and there’s a deafening silence.
Dad speaks next, at a lower volume this time. ‘Why on earth would you say that, Delilah? Of course we are. We love each other. We’ve always loved each other.’
Mum joins in, and she sounds happy. ‘We really do, Lilah. Oh darling, we’re just sorting through our issues now, and then we’ll live in harmony together for the rest of our lives.’
I let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh. ‘You will not,’ I say, and I realise I’m about to give them some shit. I’m ready for it, it’s time.
‘I’m delighted you’re back together,’ I say, not feeling particularly delighted at all. ‘I’m very happy for you, but please don’t delude yourselves that this will stop the arguing. You’ll be as bad as ever, torturing each other.’
‘Why would we want to stop the arguing?’ says Mum, and she sounds genuinely confused. ‘That’s the best part of us, Lilah. It means we still care and feel passionate about each other.’
Dad agrees noisily. ‘You obviously don’t understand how relationships work, Delilah. Maybe you’re too young, you haven’t seen enough people in relationships get older and become indifferent. That’s the killer, that dreadful indifference, as couples drift apart. So many of our friends who’ve been married a long time barely speak to each other at all. They just sit there in separate chairs, wallowing in their boredom. Sleeping in their separate beds, in their separate rooms, barely communicating, barely even looking at each other. They don’t see each other as humans at all after a while. It’s not that there’s hate – at least that would be an emotion – there’s just total disinterest. They have nothing to say and no interest in each other. And yet they stay together. That’s so sad, don’t you think?’
I think about it for a second. ‘I’m not sure your way of doing things is better,’ I say cautiously.
They both stay silent for another moment and then Dad says quietly, ‘But it makes us happy, Delilah. It works for us.’
I nod.OK. To be honest, I know all of this really. They like their drama, they thrive off it. The shouting makes them happy. It makes them miserable, and that makes them happy.
But I don’t have to be at the centre of it anymore.
