The Homecoming

by Aoife Martin

 

"Miss?" Something shook my shoulder. "We're here Miss. End of the line."

It took a little while for my senses to kick in and realise where 'here' actually was. Home. Or, at least, the town I had grown up in. I looked out the window of the train and saw the sign in plain black lettering. Heartsfield. Jesus. Was I really back? I thanked the conductor and let him get my suitcase down from the overhead rack. Men like to feel useful. I put my coat over my arm, grabbed my case and stepped off the train onto the platform. Heartsfield. It was the first time I had set foot in the place in over 15 years and the thoughts of it made my stomach lurch.

There was no one there to pick me up. Why should there be? I hadn't told anyone that I was coming. I hailed a taxi outside the station and asked the driver to take me to The Grand - where I had booked a room for a couple of nights. Sitting in the back, watching the familiar places go by I thought back to the phone call I had received not 24 hours ago...

***

"Hello?"

No reply.

"Hello?" I repeated.

"Lesley?"

The voice - female - seemed strangely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"Speaking."

"Lesley? It's me. June."

"June?" I said, not sure whom she meant.

"Yes June. Your..."

"Sister." I finished it for her. My heart was racing at this stage and my stomach was doing flip-flops. We hadn't spoken in months so I knew that something serious had happened. "Sorry, June. I was asleep. Still feeling a big groggy. What's wrong?"

"It's Dad. He....He's dying." Good, I thought. "He wants to see you."

"I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"But he's really ill. He keeps asking for you."

"Does he indeed? The last time I saw him he said that if he ever lay eyes on me again he'd strangle me with his own bare hands. To hell with him."

"That's not fair."

"Fair?" I almost screamed. "Fair? Don't talk to me about fair. I was 16 years old, for fuck sake and the one time I needed him most, the one time I wanted him to give me a hug and say he loved me, what did he do? He washed his hands of me. Better, he said, that I hadn't been born. Fuck him."

I hung up and started to cry. Fuck. I hated crying. Especially over a prick like my old man. I curled up on the sofa and waited for the tears to subside...

***

In my hotel room I changed into a pair of navy-blue trousers and a short-sleeved white blouse before heading down to the restaurant for a bite to eat. I wasn't enormously hungry so I just had the Caesar Salad and a glass of sparkling water. There were only two other couples in the restaurant. I ate in silence, listening to the low hum of their conversations.

Back in the room, I rang my sister.

"Hello?"

"June? It's Lesley."

"Lesley. Thank God you called."

"Look, I'm sorry about yesterday. I over-reacted."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you called."

"I'm here now."

"Here? In Heartsfield?"

"Yes. I'm staying at The Grand."

"Why didn't you say something? We could have picked you up from the train station. You could have stayed with us."

"It's probably better this way."

"Nonsense. Mike would love to meet you."

"Mike. How old is he now? Ten?"

"Eleven, actually."

"What have you told him about me?"

"Nothing. Just that he has an aunt who lives down the country. He wonders why you don't visit."

"Maybe I'll call round tomorrow. How's Dad?"

She sighed. "Not good. Not good. They reckon he'll never leave the hospital. Mum hasn't left his bedside." I could hear the tears in her voice and elected to change the subject.

 

"Tell you what. Why don't you come into town? We could meet for a drink. Catch up on old times."

She thought about it for a moment. "Why not? Dave'll look after Mike."

"How is Dave?"

"Same as ever. Says 'hello', by the way."

"Right. That's settled then. See you in the bar around nine?"

"Nine it is."

It was 7.30 now. That gave me time to get ready. I wanted to look nice for my sister.

***

My sister and I are upstairs playing. We're listening to Madonna on her new CD player. Both of us are dressed up in short skirts and mum's high heels and wearing lipstick while miming to 'Papa Don't Preach'. The door opens and Dad walks in smiling. One look at me and he's no longer smiling.

"We were only playing," I stammer, seeing the look of anger on his face.

***

I showered and changed into a plain black skirt and a lilac-coloured V-neck sweater. A touch of lipstick and a dab of perfume completed the job. Nervously, I checked out my reflection the full-length mirror. You look fine, I told myself. No need to be nervous. Just because you haven't seen your sister in 15 years.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my handbag and headed down to the bar.

There was no sign of June but it wasn't yet 9 o'clock. I ordered a gin and tonic at the bar and sat down at an empty table, making sure that I was facing the door. Ten minutes later June walked in. The years had been kind to her. She hadn't changed much. Unlike me. I had changed a lot. She looked around the bar. Her eyes lighted on me and then moved on before coming back to look at me again.

"Lesley?"

I nodded and stood up.

She rushed over and gave me a massive hug.

"Let me look at you. You look amazing," she said, taking in everything - my clothes, my hair, my makeup. For some reason I felt absurdly pleased.

"You look great yourself. You haven't changed a bit."

"Well you certainly have." And with that we both burst out laughing. A few heads turned to look at us but we just kept laughing. I had a pain in my side by the time we stopped.

June ordered some drinks - another G&T for me and a white wine for her - and sat down across from me.

"So," she said, raising her glass. "Here's to my sister."

We clinked glasses and took a drink. After a moment's silence, June said. "Tell me about yourself."

***

It's bedtime and I'm kneeling at the side of the bed saying my prayers.

"Dear God," I say, "Please make me into a little girl."

***

"I want to see you naked."

I nearly choked on my gin.

"Wha-?"

"I want to see your body. I want to see what you look like."

"Why?"

"Because I want to see the woman that has always been inside you."

It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. It was also the most honest thing anyone had ever said to me and I admired her for saying it. How could I refuse?

***

By the time I hear the creak on the stairs it's too late. My father walks in, takes one look at me and hits the roof.

"You little pervert. You turn my stomach."

And he slaps me across the face. Hard. I fall onto the floor and he grabs my arm, ripping the dress I'm wearing. He sees the strap of the bra I am wearing underneath and this sends him into a fury. He hits me again and again and again...

 

***

"Ready?"

I came out of the bathroom wearing only a robe. June was sitting up on the bed, a glass of wine in her hand. I stood in the middle of the room.

"You sure about this?"

"Yes," she said. "Absolutely positive."

I let the robe slide off my shoulders and fall to the floor. I heard June gasp lightly.

"You're a woman," she said simply. "You're a woman."

***

"You're a fucking pervert. If I ever see you again I'll strangle you myself."

***

Later that night, after June had gone, I lay in bed and tried to sleep. June had arranged to pick me up the next day. She was going to cook lunch and then we were going to the hospital. I was scared. Scared of meeting my nephew for the first time. Scared of meeting my brother in law, but most of all, scared of meeting Dad.

The following day I took a walk around town. I wanted to get a present for Mike. What sort of aunt would I be if I didn't have a gift for my only nephew? I picked up a Gameboy and a couple of games. I may be a woman now but I was also once an eleven-year-old boy.

At around noon, June called to the hotel. I had decided to dress conservatively for the hotel visit and wore a rather sober black trouser suit, a plain white blouse and a pair of low-heeled shoes. Pearl earrings and a matching necklace set the look off nicely. My makeup consisted of a little blusher, mascara and some lipstick.

At June's house I was introduced to Mike and Dave.

"Mike, this is your Aunt Lesley."

"Pleased to meet you," I said, sticking out my hand.

When he ignored my hand and gave me a hug instead I thought I would burst into tears.

"And this is Dave."

He was a tall man and he towered over me and for one brief moment I was afraid.

"It's lovely to meet you after all this time," he said, smiling, and he also gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Out in the kitchen, while helping June with the lunch she said, "Dave's one of the least judgmental people I know. When I told him about you, he just shrugged his shoulders as if it was no big deal and went back to reading the paper and I love him for it."

Lunch consisted of salad and homemade hamburgers. The conversation was light and flowed easily. It was obvious that Dave adored June and that Mike had his father's laid-back style. I was pleased for my sister and, to be honest, slightly jealous. It was selfish of me, I know, but I couldn't help it. Mostly, though, I was happy for her.

After lunch June and I left the boys to it and went to the hospital. I must have been very quiet in the car because June said, "Nervous?"

"Terrified, actually."

"Don't be. He's just an old man who wants to make amends."

***

Mum's crying. June's crying. I'm crying. Dad's back in the house. He won't even come out to say goodbye. Fuck him, I think. I'll dance on his grave and I'll be wearing heels.

***

I hadn't been inside a hospital since the operation and various follow-up procedures. The smell brought back so many memories.

We paused outside the room.

"You ready?"

I nodded. "Ready as I'll ever be."

June went in first and I followed. Mum was at his bedside. She turned around when we walked in.

"Lesley!"

She rushed over, ignoring June, and gave me an enormous hug.

"Hi Mum."

"You look gorgeous."

"Thank you," I said, blushing. "How's Dad?"

"He's asleep at the moment. He keeps asking for you."

And with that, my father woke up.

"Lesley? Is that you?"

"Yes Dad."

"Come here. I want to get a look at you."

I walked over to the bed. He looked so old and so frail. Not the tall, frightening man I remembered from my childhood. The skin on his face was paper-thin and I could see the tracery of blue veins underneath.

He beckoned me closer.

"You came."

"Yes."

"Thank you."

He held out his hand and after a moment's hesitation I took it. What could I do? He was my father and he was dying. I didn't hate him. Not anymore. Life was too short to go around hating someone. All I had ever wanted was his love and his respect. Something he had freely given until he discovered I wasn't like the other boys. I looked at my hand encasing his. My hand with its manicured, painted nails.

He whispered something.

"Pardon?"

I leaned closer so that my ear was near his face.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay Dad."

"No," he said, "It's not okay. I will never be able to make it up to you. What I did was completely wrong. I just didn't understand. I should have accepted you. I mean, look at you now. You are a beautiful woman. You look just like your mother did when she was your age. I wish I could make it up to you. You are my daughter and I'm proud of you."

He had never told me that he was proud of me before. I felt something running down my cheeks and I realised it was tears. I looked back at my Dad but, exhausted, he had fallen back asleep.

I left him there and after fixing my makeup in the Ladies, went to find my mother and my sister.

***

It's late in the evening and the sun's beginning to set. We're sitting at the riverside, my father and I. We've spent the day fishing and not caught a damn thing. It doesn't matter. It's been a perfect day.

***

He died two days later but before that I had spent many hours at hospital with him, talking, telling him about my life, about the operation and all that had happened to me since. He listened attentively and I was amazed at how alert and inquisitive his mind was.

I read at the mass and the priest introduced me to the congregation as Tom's daughter, Lesley. There was a low murmur in the church at that but that was only to be expected.

I left Heartsfield three days later. Once again there were tears but this time I knew I'd be back.

 

 

 

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© 2002 by Aoife Martin. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.