jacqueline

Jacqueline is well proud of herself. The longest ten blocks she's ever walked -- walked, for chrissake's, not even taking a car service -- and every bit of the way she manages not to cry in public. Trying hard not to think that for the first time in two decades she's living out of a suitcase which has precious few clothes and a lot of photos of Jackson and her as he grew up. She knocks on the door and Eileen, her boss but also her only real friend, answers.
'Jacqueline,' says the woman with a degree of warmth that would alarm anyone else who worked with her. 'How are you, love?'
All the strength Jacqueline mustered vanishes and she answers by bursting out in tears.
'Come in, come in, let's get you some wine,' says Eileen, ushering her inside.
Chardonnay, of course, always chardonnay, even though Eileen hates it it's the sort of thing a woman is expected to drink in their line of work.
Jacqueline sips first, wincing, before taking a big gulp.
'So, what happened, love?'
'I got up this morning and I turned to Robert and told him if I had to wake up next to him one more day, I...I...I told him I wanted to smash his goddamned face in.'
Eileen laughs and refreshes her glass.
'I mean, why, love? You always seemed like such a perfect couple. What happened?'
'Jackson happened,' blurts Jacqueline before she realises what she's just said which starts her crying again. How typical, she thinks, none of this is Jackson's fault but he's an easy target.
'You never told me, how did you and Robert meet?' asks Eileen, careful to evade that last remark.
'It was the nineties, you know, I defied father and moved to London, finding a tiny little apartment with my own money where I could paint and sell paintings to tourists on the sidewalks. And then one night, after a big day of sales, I had too many martinis. This young man struck up a conversation with me and, well, now it sounds stupid, but it was love at first sight.'
'Robert? He's perhaps the least likely man I would expect to have that effect on someone.'
'He wasn't Robert then, he was Robby, I should have known, rich Oxford kid slumming about in London. But those first months were so great, we ate bad takeaway and I painted and we blasted Nirvana and Pearl Jam whilst making love-'
Jacqueline cuts herself short, wondering if that was too much information. But Eileen seems transfixed so she continues.
'And then one day I said "Robby, we're pregnant" and he turned as white as a ghost. I thought he'd be thrilled, a chance for him and I to raise this wonderful child, you know? But then he started pacing about and the first thing out of his mouth was "Right, well, we have to get married at once, get in front of this thing. It's been an appropriate amount of time courting." And I felt as if he'd just slapped me across the face, overnight he changed. It was all about his father's money and approval, you see. Which started me thinking about my own father and the warnings he gave me about running away to the city.'
'So you got married rather quickly, I suppose?'
'A week on from the wedding and we had a nice proper place in Maida Vale, some place his family owned, and not a bit of Nirvana or a paintbrush in sight, but always a Bible on the nightstand. Just in time, he would later say, hopefully not so close that anyone could put two and two together when Jackson was born so soon.'
'That would be scandalous.'
'Yes, Robert was correct, it would have been. I woke in hospital just after Jackson was born and no one was there, so I turned on the telly and the first thing I saw on the news was they'd just found Kurt Cobain dead. I started to cry, but then the nurse brought Jackson in and he was such a beautiful baby that it made me feel better. I think even then I realised despite trying so much to escape, I'd just married my father, and that Jackson was born the day my favourite musician was found dead was too ironic.'
'Does Jackson know about the circumstances around his birth?'
'No, and I don't know if I should tell him. He's found his own someone special, Eileen. Another boy.'
Eileen chokes on her wine.
'Well, he certainly knows how to get you back, doesn't he?' she says and instantly regrets saying that so she adds 'it's not the dark ages, you know. It happens all of the time these days.'
Jacqueline pops open her percosets and washes a couple down with more chardonnay. God she never realised how much she hates chardonnay, it's just one step ahead of servitude to expect this to be a proper woman's drink.
'You're going to kill yourself with those things if you're not careful, love.'
'Maybe that would be for the best, for Jackson's sake.'
'Shush, don't talk like that.'
'Why? He's finally happy, I've been a terrible mum to him and now he finally has someone who makes him happy it seems.'
'Does it bother you that he's queer? Or what is it?'
'No,' she says, and pauses. 'It terrifies me that if I try to get back into his life, their lives, I'll do to him what father and Robert did to me. And he really is just a wonderful boy, so much his own person. You know, I don't believe I ever really told him that, Eileen.'
'I'm sure you did, love. You showed him that, I'm sure.'
'I wonder if...if...because I never picked up that paintbrush again, I made him do it every day in my stead.'
'You yourself just said he's his own person.'
'Do you know what he did that last morning he left? Robert tried to stop him and...and he kicked the little man right in the balls, so hard he tipped right over like a sleeping cow.'
Now she's laughing so hard it's making her cry. Eileen looks at her as if she's gone quite mad for a minute then joins in until they're both laughing hysterically.
'Oh, Christ. Eileen. I'm so scared.'
'Take your time, love, you can take off work if need be and you'll always have a job when you're ready to come back. And you can stay in the guestroom as long as you need to as well.'
'Thank you, Eileen, that means so much to me. Just...'
'Just what, love?'
'What do I do now?'