I awoke to a sharp rapping on my door, breaking me out of my hibernal sleep. I ripped the blankets off my head, ready to scream at Paul to fuck off, when I heard Linda say, "Honey, I made breakfast, come down and eat with me."
I couldn't bring myself to say no to my stepmom, especially when she sounded so earnest, so I hauled myself out bed, throwing a bathrobe over my pajamas and pulling my hair up into a ponytail before trudging downstairs. Despite my dour mood, I couldn't help but perk up when I smelled the traditional English breakfast Linda prepared.
"Here you are, sweetie," Linda said, setting a plate in front of me.
My mouth watered at the heaping breakfast: two fried eggs, two sausages, a slice of toast with a glob of melting butter, greasy, panfried mushrooms, and a sizeable portion of baked beans. I didn't know where to start.
"Coffee or tea?" Linda asked.
"Uh, coffee."
She grinned, pouring me a cup with lots of room. "Glad to know I've rubbed off on you a little bit." Grabbing an identical plate to mine, she clinked our mugs of coffee together. "Cheers."
Not meeting her eyes, I added plenty of cream and sugar to my coffee till it was practically white. Jack would've asked if I wanted any coffee with my milk. Speaking of...
"Where's my brother?"
"Out with some old friends; I'm sure they're glad to know he's alive and well. And Paul took Mary for a stroller ride in the park. It's just the two of us this morning."
Just the two of us. This could be my last chance to tell her...
"That's why I wanted to make you breakfast. It feels like we rarely spend time together, just the two of us." She touched my right hand, the one that wasn't busy filling my face with toast and beans. "I hope you don't feel that I've neglected you, or that you're any less of my daughter than Mary, because you're not."
I swallowed the guilt in my throat along with the bread. "Thanks... Mum."
Smiling, she added. "And even though I've been busy, I know Paul's taken good care of you."
I nearly choked on my coffee. If only she knew. I should be the one apologizing, not her. I don't know where all this shame- this urge to confess- came from, but it took all the effort in the world to not tell her everything.
She deserves to know; she deserves the truth.
'If I tell her, she'll hate me. I'll ruin her marriage and our family,' I screamed at the voice in my head.
You already ruined your family, it's time to own up to it.
"Is something wrong, darling?"
"Mum, I- I need to tell you something."
"What is it?"
Judging by the panic in her tone, she thought I was going to mention my drug use or my abortion or something like that. She genuinely cared about me, and I betrayed her trust.
"I've done something really awful, something to you."
"To me?" She set down her coffee mug, leaning in closer. "What is it?"
My lower lip trembled as tears rolled down my cheeks, one after the other, with no sign of stopping. "I'm terrified to tell you, cause I know you'll never forgive me and that you'll hate me just like I hate myself, but I can't go another second lying to you."
"Lo, listen to me; I could never hate you. Whatever it is, we'll work through it, okay?"
Despite knowing this couldn't be true, part of me wanted to believe her. I wanted to think that someone loved me enough to overlook the worst parts of me. She got over my runaway attempt, my abortion, my heroin habit, my bisexuality, why should this be any different?
"Paul and I... we've been having an affair."
She cocked a sparse, blonde brow before laughing nervously, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "What are you talking about?"
"For the past few months- since my birthday- we've been sleeping together."
"Lorraine, this isn't funny, so tell me what you have to tell me or stop talking."
"I know it's not funny, it's the truth. It's the horrible, disgusting truth, and I'm so, so sorry."
Searching for worlds, face still twisted in disbelief, the side door opened. Paul entered the kitchen quietly, baby Mary asleep in her stroller.
"Something smells good. I'll be down just as soon as I put Mary back to bed."
"No, leave her in the living room for now," Linda said, folding her arms. "We need to talk."
Paul looked between his wife and me several times. "The two of us or..."
"All three of us. Now."
No, no, no. I thought we could talk alone. Why did Paul have to come home at the worst time?!
"What is it?" Paul asked, returned from the living room, removing his jean jacket.
"Lo has spun this frankly ridiculous story about the two of you having an-an affair. I don't know why she's saying this, but I'd appreciate it if you tell her to knock it off."
I looked up at Paul, wringing my hands nervously, attempting to gauge his expression. On the one hand, if he told Linda the truth, our life would be ruined, their marriage would be destroyed. This was his last chance to undo my reckless action; if he acknowledged the truth of my claims, there'd be no going back, no returning to the life we used to have. But if he denied my accusations, the result would almost be worse. Not only would Linda think I'm a crazy, lying bitch, but I'd have lost my one opportunity to come clean, the guilt continuing to build until it killed me.
Paul took too long to answer, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to form a response, his silence saying more than words ever could. Linda's jaw dropped open, all the blood draining from her face. She glanced between the two of us, back and forth and back and forth and back again.
Finally, almost out of nowhere, she struck me across the face, hard. I clutched my stinging cheek, tears springing to my eyes. I looked at Paul, wondering if he would say anything, but he just stared at his feet, silent. Turning back to Linda, I saw nothing but cold fury in her blue eyes.
"Mum, I-"
"Don't you call me 'Mum', you ungrateful bitch. I've done everything for you, and you do this to me, you whore!"
"Love-"
"And you!" she hissed, turning to Paul. "You cheating dog, you fucking pedo. I gave up my life for you, I had your child, I named her after your mother, you cunt." She his chest, hard, over and over. "How could you do this to me; how could you sleep with her?!"
In the other room, baby Mary woke up and started wailing. My heart lurched, and I stood up to go to her, but my feet had other ideas, leading me to the door. No one called after me, the couple too busy fighting to take care of their real daughter, let alone their play-pretend one.
I forgot to take the side door, coming face to face with a flock of girls still lingering, waiting for Paul.
"He's not going out, fuck off already!" I shouted at them.
One of them flipped me off, the others not paying any attention. Why would they? I was nobody. Nothing.
I walked till my feet throbbed. Until I sat down on a random bench, I didn't notice I forgot my shoes, my feet scraped up and bleeding. Once I saw red oozing from my sporadic wounds, the pain hit me all at once, along with the humiliation of being out in public in my bathrobe and pajamas.
Where the fuck am I?
Looking around, I noticed a few familiar clusters of houses, though my muddled brain couldn't piece all the clues together straight away. I stood, limping down a street that struck a beat in my memory, then another and another, the ache in my feet increasing exponentially with every step.
There's no point in this. I should just lie in the road and wait for a lorry to run me over.
A drizzle started, picking up rapidly, because of course it did- it's London, after all. The rain cut right through my bathrobe and then my pjs, and, under any other circumstances, I would have cringed at my near nude state, but, right now, all I could think of was my throbbing leg muscles and bleeding feet.
"Rainy?"
Yeah, it is Rainy. My first thought was that of a moron, but my second one was considerably sharper.
I had many nicknames, which meant different things to different people. Lo was standard, but Keith and Anita almost always used Lola, and, before I ruined her marriage, Linda had plenty of pet names for me. But only two people in the world called me Rainy- and that Scouse accent was nearly unmistakable.
I turned on my heel (which screamed in protest at the action) and saw a tall man in a wide-brimmed hat with a ribcage-length beard staring at me curiously. He looked so different from his most famous years in the 60s, which is probably why he could go out in the open, totally undisguised.
"Rainy, what the hell are you doing out here without any bloody shoes on?"
Not bothering to respond, I sprinted over to him, jumping into his arms. "John," I whispered, burying my face in his shoulder. "I missed you so much."
Back at it again with another super late chapter XD
Sorry it took so long to upload, but hopefully I made up for it with a really exciting plot! I can't believe we're finally here; I always knew there would be a scene where Linda found out about Paul and Lo, but part of me didn't think we'd ever make it here.
Can't wait to write the next chapter for you guys, thanks so much for sticking around as long as you have!!!