The Pause (18 page)

‘We've spoken, Declan.
Boy
have we spoken. You showed her another life. You showed her how to have fun. To be a bit rebellious. She needed that. To stand up to Joy.'

What? Lisa stood up to The Kraken? I don't remember that.

Susanne continues. ‘I tried to stay in touch. Be an influence on her life. But you know Joy. She isn't exactly the most communicative person in the world. Quite frankly, she's nuts.'

I'm only really half-listening to what Susanne is saying as I'm too captivated by Lisa to take my eyes off her. But I suppose Susanne is right. I have had an influence on Lisa. Even if it was only small. And she's happy now. Happier than when she was with The Kraken, certainly, and I'm partly responsible for that. I may have just lost her, but I helped save her, and I suppose it was worth it.

‘And so she goes back to live with that bitch over my dead body.'

I sigh and Susanne gets it. She understands where I'm coming from.

‘Declan. This is the age of technology. You have Skype and FaceTime. Relationships aren't what they were. Don't give her up.'

‘Isn't it inevitable?'

‘That's up to you. I had a long-distance relationship for five years. She lived in New York.'

I'm looking over at Lisa again, who's paying our bill … did Susanne just say ‘she'?

‘She was a flight attendant with British Airways. But she was based in New York.'

I'm trying hard to be mature, to be her niece's bookish, intellectual boyfriend, to not imagine Susanne with another woman, but she's not making it easy. If only ‘Joy' knew of Susanne's ‘lifestyle', she'd be turning in her grave at the thought of sending Lisa back here to live under her influence. Okay, ‘Joy' isn't dead, worse luck – I haven't managed to set those pit bulls or bees on her yet – but still.

‘It didn't last, though?' is the best I can manage.

‘She went all hetero on me,' says Susanne. ‘Went and got married, had kids, white picket fence and everything. Barf! Still, we run into each other occasionally and, you know.' Susanne smiles enigmatically. ‘Just live for the moment,' she says quietly. ‘Enjoy the now, because tomorrow might not come.'

Lisa has to leave for her saxophone lesson because, according to Susanne, having music lessons after school in Hong Kong is the law, apparently. Susanne suggests that the four of us catch up for dinner tonight. I think she's just being polite but she insists on writing down Mum's mobile number so that she can arrange it with her.

A couple of hugs later and they're gone.

I should feel miserable because I suppose Lisa and I have sort of just broken up. Because no matter how much Bill Gates and Steve Jobs have
enabled couples to stay in touch across the planet, there's just no substitute for being in the same city, the same room. But I don't feel miserable. I feel content that Lisa is happy. Besides, breakups, sadness, grief, despair are all a part of life. Unless you know agony, you'll never truly know joy – and that's joy with a lowercase ‘j'. And I know that I will never throw myself under the wheels of a train for Lisa. For anyone. Because no matter how low I get (and I will get low again, that's a given), happiness will always be just beyond the horizon. Just around the corner. Also – and I can't stress this enough – the thought of Captain Beige discovering my haikus would haunt me across all eternity.

There's no doubt about it, having dinner with three stunningly beautiful women is good for the ego. I'm drawing jealous looks from the men in the restaurant and I feel about ten feet tall. Okay, it would probably be better if one of the women wasn't my mum, another one wasn't gay and I hadn't recently broken up (sort of) with the other, but still …

Susanne and Mum chat like old friends, which means that, although we've kind of broken up, for the first time since we've been together in Hong Kong, Lisa and I can disappear into our couple bubble. I have never seen Lisa looking more relaxed. More gorgeous. Hong Kong obviously
agrees with her. Or maybe it's just being 4583 miles/7375.63 kilometres/3982.52 nautical miles from The Kraken that's agreeing with her. It's certainly doing wonders for me.

I'm half-listening to Susanne and Mum's conversation but Lisa keeps putting her hand on my leg, which doesn't make it easy to concentrate. From what I can gather, Susanne was a bit of a wild child. Apparently she was born after her mother had died (though I can't quite get my head around that), but after she died, Joy took her mother's place at the head of the family while the amah (?) took her mother's place in bed, and the resulting shame that was brought down on the family was enough for Joy and her husband and their two young sprogs to eventually flee to Australia, and good riddance. Susanne was okay at primary school but when she got to high school she fell in with the wrong crowd, or maybe Susanne
was
the wrong crowd and others fell in with her, and when
it
happened – whatever
it
was – Susanne was packed off to live with relatives and attend school in England, while Joy returned briefly to Hong Kong to take care of things and try to keep a lid on the shame. In England, Susanne managed to get her act together and did well enough at school to get into university to study languages. It's clear that Susanne absolutely despises Joy (and
from what I can gather, the feeling is mutual), and yet despite there being four other sisters spread across the globe, Susanne was the one Joy turned to when she wanted to get Lisa off her hands and away from me. It doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Then again, I once saw The Kraken at the supermarket at ten o'clock in the morning wearing canary-yellow PJs and her slippers, so I suppose sense doesn't really enter into it.

I turn to Lisa and make it look like I'm kissing her while I whisper in her ear, ‘Did Susanne say she was born
after
her mother died?'

‘Yep.'

‘How does that work? Was her mother in a coma or something?'

‘Oh, Declan,' says Lisa, giving me one of those looks that I would happily die for. ‘You really are quite naive at times. “Mother” wasn't Susanne's actual mother.' Lisa continues because I obviously look like a goldfish that's trying to solve a Rubik's Cube using telekinesis. ‘“Mother” was the matriarch. Susanne refers to her as “Mother” because everyone else in the family does. Though Susanne never met her.'

‘So who's Susanne's mother?'

‘The amah.'

I lapse back into looking like a goldfish again. ‘The armour?'

‘No. Her mother wasn't some sort of medieval knight's attire, you doofus. “Amah” means “maid”, or “servant”.'

‘So Susanne's mum was …'

‘A Filipina servant girl, yes.'

‘Seriously?'

‘Quite the scandal,' says Lisa. ‘After Susanne was born, Joy wanted to ship her and the amah off on a one-way flight back to Manila – or at least she
did
want to, until the amah, Grace, leapt off a thirty-storey building, which shamed Father into taking Susanne in. Grace killed herself to protect her daughter: she knew that had she gone back to Manila with her daughter, the chances of someone employing a single mum were next to nothing, and the chances of Susanne ending up as a street kid or a prostitute were way too high. Now look at her. And all because of what Grace did. Now that's real love.'

As the skeletons in Lisa and Susanne's family closet come out to play, I am practically speechless. After what happened to Susanne's mother, I feel kind of guilty. Okay, I'm not supposed to minimise or trivialise what I went through – anxiety and depression are silent killers and do not discriminate – but what I was going through seems like nothing compared to what happened to Susanne's mum.

After dinner, Mum has a coffee (big shock there) while Susanne ducks out for about ten minutes. When she comes back she hands something to Lisa in a paper bag and then Susanne and Mum announce that they're going out clubbing and, since we're having dinner on the Kowloon side of Hong Kong, just down the road from our hotel, they want us to wait in the room until they get back. They'll be gone about four hours, or so they reckon. Mum also tells me that we're not allowed to touch the spirits in the minibar but we can help ourselves to the champagne, wine and beer. Lisa and I try to avoid eye contact during what has to be the most awkward conversation of our lives.

I wrap myself around Lisa as we stroll down Nathan Road towards our hotel. In the lift I pluck up the courage to kiss her and she kisses me right back. It's the most wonderful feeling in the world. Certainly one worth sticking around for.

We exit the lift and walk along the corridor, fingers interlocked, my stomach in knots thinking about where this might lead.

‘Well, that wasn't weird,' I say to break the tension, thinking back to Susanne and Mum bailing on us.

‘Tell me about it,' says Lisa. ‘Do you know what Susanne gave me in the restaurant?' She blushes slightly as she says this.

I shake my head as Lisa opens her bag to reveal a twelve-pack of condoms.

Now it's me who's turning red. ‘We could always blow one of them up and play volleyball.'

Although I'm holding Lisa's hand, it's all become a little awkward and I can feel my hand sweating. Our parents/guardians are out clubbing and pretty much insisting that we have sex and get drunk. It's like we're the parents and they're the irresponsible teenagers. Or maybe this is some sort of high-end reverse psychology. By telling us that it's okay to have a drink and mess around, they're hoping we won't do either. Whatever it is, it's strange.

I fumble nervously with the keycard and insert it in the slot. The light flashes green and I push open the door.

‘Wait,' I say to Lisa as she is about to walk in. I scoop her up in my arms and carry her into the room and lower her gently onto the bed. She weighs almost nothing.

‘Oh, Declan.' She swoons like a fifties movie star. ‘Y'all is just so romantic.'

‘Stop speaking like that,' I laugh. ‘You're putting me off.'

‘Whatever you say, daaaaahling,' she replies. ‘You're the maaaaan.'

I latch the door and slip off my T-shirt. I return
to the bed and puff out my chest, tense my stomach and flex my arms.

‘Oh my,' says Lisa as she runs her eyes over my bulging pecs and rippling six-pack. (Hey. This is
my
road not travelled. I can have all the bulging pecs and rippling six-packs I want.)

Lisa licks her lips. ‘Come give me some of that sugar, sugar.'

I crawl onto the bed and advance on Lisa who moves and squirms like a cat. We kiss deeply and passionately and then I make my way down to her sexy, succulent neck, which I love devouring. Her back arches as I pretty much turn into a vampire. I help Lisa remove her top but as I toss it aside I look deep into her eyes and stop. Despite the Southern belle routine, she looks frightened. I smile at her, lay back on the bed and pull her into me so that her head is lying on my chest.

‘Sorry,' she says.

‘It's okay,' I reply.

‘It's just …'

‘I get it.' Lisa is right. The timing is wrong. The moment contrived. Contrived by Mum and Susanne who, in their own progressive yet clumsy way, are encouraging us to do something that we're not ready for. No means no and that's the end of it. And despite her alluring talk and her passionate kisses, the look in Lisa's eyes just now
said ‘no'. I know if we carry on we'll both regret this moment and when Lisa looks back on our time together, no matter how long, or short, or how imagined it is, I want it to be a beautiful memory. I only want to bring her joy (lowercase) because she's been through enough.

‘Thanks for understanding,' she says.

‘I love you, Lisa. Always have. Always will.'

Lisa props herself up on her elbow and looks at me. ‘We should do something though,' she says with a mischievous grin. ‘We've got the room to ourselves for hours yet.'

‘Room service? Banana split or something disgustingly chocolaty and sweet?' I suggest.

‘If I eat any more I'll explode,' says Lisa.

‘What then?'

Lisa grins at me again. ‘Spa bath?'

‘Seriously?' Now it's
my
eyebrows that are raised.

‘Seriously. And champagne.' She gets up from the bed and sashays towards the bathroom. ‘Give me five to get it ready.' Even though she's wearing her jeans and a bra, she still covers her breasts with her arms as she disappears into the bathroom.

While Lisa organises the bath, I delve into the minibar and take out the champagne. When five minutes are up I carry two wine glasses and the champagne through to the bathroom. I try not to swallow my Adam's apple when I see that Lisa is
already in the bath. Naked and – gulp – all wet and slippery. Double gulp. Well, I have to imagine that she's naked, wet and slippery because she's covered with an avalanche of suds. I can only see her head. She looks like an otter poking its head out of a snowdrift.

‘Where did you get the bubble bath?'

Lisa looks about her as if she hasn't even noticed the mountain of foam. ‘It came out of the tap that way.'

‘Seriously?'

‘No, Declan.'

Duh!

‘I used your mum's shampoo and some bath gel. I was surprised how much it frothed up.'

Stupid Mum's shampoo and bath gel.

I pop open the champagne like a seasoned champagne popper and pour us both a full glass.

Lisa sips hers. ‘Mmm. More bubbles. Delicious. So,' she says after she's placed her glass on the side of the bath. ‘You coming in?'

Uh oh. Big problem. ‘Er.'

‘Don't be embarrassed.'

‘That's easy for you to say. You're already in there and what's more, you don't have a part of your anatomy that has a mind of its own.'

‘What?' she says, then immediately snorts in laughter. ‘We could always use an extra towel rack.'

‘Close your eyes,' I insist.

‘No,' she says, taking another sip of champagne.

‘Please.'

Lisa is loving my predicament. ‘Absolutely not.'

‘Right. Then stand up and wash all that foam off you.' That hot, slippery, wet foam. Gulp.

‘Okay then.'

Double gulp.

She closes her eyes. Blast.

I quickly remove my clothes and clamber into the bath about as elegantly as a rollerskating giraffe on a slip 'n' slide.

The water is hot. Seriously hot. Almost – but not quite – hot enough for me to leap into the air like a frog that's accidentally landed on a barbecue. I man up and take the heat.

When I'm used to the temperature, Lisa moves over and lies back against my chest. It's a little awkward at first but Lisa is eventually able to wiggle into a position that is comfortable for both of us.

I decide to wash Lisa's hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp slowly and firmly with my fingertips. Her sighs tell me that she's enjoying it. That I'm doing it right.

Lisa goes quiet and suddenly I feel the elephant entering the room. ‘Declan. We haven't talked about it yet, and I think we need to.'

I knew this was coming.

‘What happened to you when I left? On the station. Was it a su– … an attempt?' She can't say the ‘s' word. No one can say the ‘s' word. It's too big.

‘I paused.'

‘What do you mean, paused?'

‘What happened with your mum?' I ask.

‘Declan …'

‘I'll tell you but please tell me what happened with you and your mum first. Susanne said that you stood up to her. To Joy, I mean. Is it true?'

‘Yep.'

‘So if you stood up to her, why are you still living here?'

She turns and looks up at me. ‘You haven't worked it out yet, have you?'

‘Worked what out?'

‘It was the night we came back late from Bombay Bicycle Club – you remember. The last time we saw each other.'

It's not something I'll ever forget.

‘Reverend Tong had phoned Joy and told her that it had been weeks since he'd seen me at youth group and the few times I had been, he'd seen me with a boy. And what's more, there wasn't any Christian youth concert that night. I was obviously lying. As soon as I kissed you goodnight and
walked inside the house, she was waiting there with her cane.'

‘When did she start hitting you?'

‘As soon as I walked in the door she just went berserk.'

‘No. I mean, how old were you when it started?'

‘Oh. She'd always hit me. For as long as I can remember. It wasn't just the physical stuff, it was emotional abuse, too. Name calling. Mind games.'

‘Such as?'

‘Like taking family photos but deliberately leaving me out.'

‘What about your sister and brother. Did she …?'

‘Nope. Just me. For a long time I wasn't sure why. I spoke to my school counsellor about it. She said sometimes it's one child who cops the lot.'

I feel her relax even more against me. I enjoy the moment, the silence, and use my empty champagne flute to rinse the shampoo out of her hair.

‘I started fantasising that I was adopted. I suppose all kids do, at some point. You know that one where you pray you're the long-lost Princess of Manchuria sent to live with commoners but now emissaries are on their way to restore you to your rightful place on the throne …'