No Return

He walked into the house his face set, features grim.

‘Hello love, did you have a nice time at Nana’s? How is she? I hope she’s beginning to settle.’

He didn’t answer her.

‘What’s the matter, love? She didn’t upset you did she? I know it’s not nice seeing her in there. Did she have her funny head on? You mustn’t take anything she says to heart you know. She can’t help it.’

Jamie looked at her, unsmiling. Normally his voice preceded him; he’d crash in and was a cross between a freshening breeze and a herd of marauding elephant; His favoured greeting lately, “Hello my mam.” But so far he hadn’t spoken.
Rachael noticed the small bag. It looked like the kind you’d get from a good confectioner, a pretty bag with a cellophane heart cut-out tied at the top with a broad scarlet ribbon.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, smiling, ‘A present? Who’s been buying you presents, not nana, surely?’

‘No, it’s for you, Mother.’ His voice was flat,

Mother? What was with the mother thing? He’d never called her mother in his life.

‘A present for me? How lovely. What is it?’

He walked over to her and handed her the bag.

‘No, it’s not a present; I’m just returning something to you.’

She opened the bag. It was empty and Jamie watched her, his eyes cold and indifferent. Maybe there was something at the bottom, a piece of paper or tickets to something.

‘There’s nothing in it. Jamie are you all right darling? What’s the matter? What’s this all about?’

His eyes narrowed to slits. She’d seen the look before, though not for a couple of years. His stance was hostile, his eyes full of hurt and anger. Jamie hadn’t had a temper tantrum for ages. He was always so pleasant and loving.

‘I’m returning all the love you’ve ever given to me Mother. But if you say there’s nothing in the bag then it clearly didn’t amount to much, did it? Why are you looking so shocked? You wanted me dead didn’t you? Maybe I should get a razor blade and slash my wrists right now, would that please you? See, the bag’s empty so you never did love me, did you? You never wanted me. Can you deny that? Can you?’

‘Jamie, where the hell has this come from? Of course I love you. You’re behaving like a three year-old. Calm down and tell me what’s upset you.’
He sat in the chair opposite her. Confrontational and direct, just the way she’d always taught him to be if he had a problem.

‘Face it down, son,’ she would say. ‘Never be afraid to speak your mind and if problems occur do your best to sort them out. Don’t let them fester.’

And here he was facing her with tears in his angry eyes, accusing her of not loving him. His hands were on his knees, fingers twining. He was fidgeting; he always fidgeted when he was upset.

‘You didn’t want me.’

It was neither question nor statement. It was an accusation.

‘What? Jamie, how can you even think that?’

‘You didn’t want me and you don’t love me.’

He was regressing by the second. His body was still a sixteen year old’s but his attitude was that of a hurt little boy in need of reassurance.

‘Of course I love you. I always have. Don’t be so bloody stupid.’

‘No you don’t. You’re off the hook, Mother. I’m old enough to look after myself. I’m moving out and, for what it’s worth, I’m returning any love you think you’ve given me because I don’t want it. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.’

Rachael almost smiled. Oh my God, the hormones, she thought. He was fourteen again and threatening to leave home rather than have a bath before going to bed. She checked herself. If she showed any sign of not taking him seriously it would only make things worse and, despite his club-fisted way of expressing his feelings, he was hurting.

‘Sweetheart, you aren’t making any sense. Of course I love you. I’ve loved you from the second you were born even if you are a pain in the backside. Everything I’ve ever done has…”

‘Here we go, the old, “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you,” speech. If you’re going to try to justify yourself at least be original.’
‘I’m getting sick of this. What’s it all about? You were fine when you left the house.’

‘Nana said you were going to have an abortion.’

And then there was light.

‘Nana’s a senile old fool.’

‘So she’s lying? You never considered getting rid of me?’

‘Yes I did, briefly.’

‘Oh, that says it all doesn’t it? I’ll start packing then.’

His voice had risen to a yell and he got up from the chair. The force of his temper sent the armchair flying backwards to bang loudly against the radiator. He stormed up to his bedroom stamping his feet on every stair.

Rachael’s temper snapped. They’d worked hard on their relationship since the spots, grease and tantrums of adolescence had diminished. He’d had a shock but he had to learn to cope with life’s melodramas in an adult manner.

‘Jamie, get back down here. Don’t you dare storm off before I’ve had a chance to explain my side of the story.’

He came back sullenly, brazen, but not brave enough to ignore her tone of voice. He loitered on the bottom step his hand resting on the dowel. Fair enough, this was a compromise; she could say her piece like this.

‘Right, you’ll listen to me and you’ll show me respect. I’ve earned it. It hasn’t been easy bringing you up on my own. Christ love, I was still a child myself when I fell pregnant with you. We were children playing at being adults. There’s no excuse for what we—I—did. I knew it was wrong, and I’m not going to lie to you and say it was the first time, or that I didn’t know I could get caught. It wasn’t and I did.

‘You’re a bloody hypocrite. “Be careful son, won’t you? Use protection?” How two faced is that?’

‘Can’t you see that I wanted better for you than I had?’ Damn. As soon as the words left her mouth she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

‘Better than what, better than having a bastard son? Better than being saddled with a bastard? What stopped you having me cut out of you?’

‘Stop it. I won’t have you speaking to me like that.’ She wilted into the seat. He was crying and she wanted to go to him but she knew that he was too angry to let her near. ‘Of course I considered termination.’

He winced on the last word. It hurt her to see him react to it.

‘Sweetheart, I considered that and adoption. I considered running away and I considered suicide. I was fifteen and terrified. I was about to take my exams and I was pregnant. Then I felt you. I didn’t feel you move, it was way too early for that. But I felt the essence of you. The little person inside me and I knew that you were going to be the greatest, most beautiful thing that ever happened to me. I talked aloud to you that night. I made you a promise that I was going to be the best mummy I could possibly be. Sweetheart, I have never forgotten that promise. I’ve not always been the best mother in the world but I’ve been the best mother that I could be.’

She smiled, remembering the days of her pregnancy. ‘I remember when I was five months pregnant. I was on the bus going to school and I felt you kick for the first time. The books, right? All the expert baby books said that it would be like a pleasant flutter. Pleasant flutter my arse.’

Jamie laughed; he walked across the room and sat beside her, Rachael turned to him and smiled. She wiped a tear from his eye, sniffed to try and control her own emotions and draped an arm loosely round his shoulder as she continued talking. She knew the drama was over; all that remained was the mopping up.

‘I tell you darling, that was no pleasant flutter. That was a whopping great kick in the belly that felt as though I’d been hit with tram. I thought I was losing you and started crying. The driver had to stop the bus to see what all the fuss was about. I thought I was going to have you five months early and right there in the school bus. I was so scared, but, do you know what my only concern was?’ Jamie shook his head and she continued. ‘I was terrified of losing you. The bus driver was an old hand at baby stuff. He had eight kids of his own and he explained that it was only you letting me know that you were there and that you were well. He said it was your way of saying hello to me. I’ll never forget that moment.’

Jamie raised his head to look at her.

‘I’m sorry mum,’ he said beginning to cry again. ‘I love you.’

‘I know, sweetheart and I love you too.’ She kissed him on the least snotty part of his face and then picked up the pretty bag and went into the kitchen.

When she came back in she handed the bag back to him.

‘Go on, open it.’ It was filled with squares of plain, dark chocolate.

‘You see, son, my love is non returnable. It’s not something you can just hand back when you think you don’t need it anymore. Because you can’t get by without knowing that your mum loves you.’

‘My love for you,’ she went on, ‘is a bit like that chocolate. First of all you get the darkness. Sometimes love can be dark. And then you get to the bitterness. Love is often bitter. People say things in the heat of the moment that can’t be taken back. But most of the time love is smooth and creamy. That’s what love is all about. Feeling secure and wanted, knowing your place in the world and realising your worth. If you were to eat the whole bag of chocolate you’d feel sick. Love can be sickly. It can be overwhelming and scary or it can carry too much responsibility. And finally there is the aftertaste, the rich, smooth aftertaste. That is like knowing that no matter what has gone on that day your mother’s love is unconditional.’

She looked at her son and smiled.