Page 45 of Every Silent Lie

Again, better doesn’t mean she’ll recognise me. “That’s good to hear.” I reach Mum’s door and push my way in, completely taken aback when I find my brother’s wife, Mindy, by Mum’s bed. I haven’t seen her for months.

“Camryn,” she says, almost embarrassed, standing.

“Camryn?” Mum says, her wishy-washy eyes turning my way. “Who’s Camryn?”

Mindy visibly flinches as I stand here, broken again, wondering if Mum recognises Mindy. I have a feeling she must, judging by the fact she’s calm and Mindy is close by the bed. Plus, my sister-in-law’s reaction. “This is Camryn,” Mindy virtually shouts. “You know Camryn.”

“She’s not deaf, Mindy, she’s senile.” I unzip my coat and wriggle out of it, popping it on the radiator to warm it up for when I leave. “So where’s my dear brother?” Mindy and I have always got along. She’s been around for as long as I remember, which makes the fact that she’s been absent all the more painful too.

“Working.”

“A lot to catch up after your three-week holiday, I suppose.” I can hear myself, sounding twisted and full of resentment. How is it fair Mum recognises my brother’s wife and not her own daughter? Mindy’s here as a token gesture, a way to appease me, the whiny sister who sees nothing but injustice in the world. How is it fair Dad passed away when I needed him the most? How is it fair Mum fell ill and forgot who I was? How is it fair my marriage failed? How is it fair I lost my friends and my family? How is it fair . . .?

I quickly pull myself into line before I spiral into a full-blown meltdown in the care home.

Mindy lowers to the chair, shrinking. “How have you been?” she asks and immediately flinches.

I look out the corner of my eye at her as I take Mum’s water jug and rinse it in the sink in the corner. “Dandy.”

“Right.” She sighs, going back to my mother, giving up on me. Like everyone else in my world. I can hardly blame them, given I gave up on myself long ago. Water gushes from the tap into the jug, muffling whatever Mindy is saying to Mum, and I proceed to faff around the bed, making myself useful while they have a conversation—something I so desperately want with my mother.

See me!

I miss her wise words. I miss her reason and the way she could clutch at my hand and tell me I’ve got this. It doesn’t matter that now, if she were to do that, tell me I’ve got this, it would be a lie. Just her belief in me, her way of being strong for me when I couldn’t be strong myself, is what I need. What I miss. And her hugs. The best hugs. Hugs that made even the worst times feel like they could be okay. I need my mum.

I place her vase back on the cabinet, letting my eyes find her on the bed. Mindy’s holding her hand. The hand that struck me.

“Where’s Noah?” Mum asks out of the blue, jarring me.

“He’s not coming, Mum,” I say, my voice brittle, the weight of Mindy’s gaze heavy on me. I turn my welling eyes onto her. “He’s never coming.” I dip and kiss Mum’s cheek before grabbing my coat from the radiator and leaving, resentment and hurt twisting my stomach to the point I might vomit.

“Camryn, wait,” Mindy calls, coming after me as I swing on my coat, my strides purposeful, the predictable suffocation sneaking up on me. “Camryn, please.”

I stop abruptly, staring at the doors ahead.

“I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through,” she says, her words like sandpaper across my skin. What I’ve been through? It’s what I’m still going through. “I mean, your entire world imploded.”

I face her, my expression detached and cold. “No, you couldn’t pretend to understand because your life is fucking perfect, Mindy. Your marriage is perfect. Your home is perfect. Your kids are fucking perfect. And I’m just here picking up the pieces, trying to figure out what my purpose is now. Send my brother my love.” I stuff my hands in my pockets and walk away from her, choking on the lump in my throat I’m desperately trying to swallow down.

“He stopped round yesterday,” she calls, freezing me at the doors, my hand hovering over the button to call reception. Of course, they’re still chummy. How can my brother and Mindy even tolerate being around him? How is that fair? “He said you’re refusing to sign the papers.”

“You know why. He wants me to accept that I’ve behaved unreasonably.”

“What does it matter, Cam? All this is just delaying things. The sale of the house, the settlement, everything. You both need the money, and you’ve got to get out of that poky flat, find yourself a new place, and make a new start.”

To what end? I’ve lost every fucking thing that counts as good in my life. And he wants money so he can keep moving on.

Fuck.

Him.

And he now has my sister-in-law doing his grovelling?

Fuck that hurts.

I hit the button and wait for the sound of the click that’ll free me, then turn to Mindy. I hate how perfectly together she is, her bags always matching her shoes and her lipstick, her blowout as perfect in the evening as it is in the morning, freshly washed and styled. Always perfect. “You think money and a new home makes everything better?”

Her mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few awkward moments. Awkward for her, not me. “Your house is empty,” she says. “You should be there. He left so you didn’t have to.”