We looked up each time a new person appeared, hoping for news of Dad.
Iris leaned back in her chair and, without looking at me, said, ‘We’ve never got close, have we, Bess? I’ve always been sorry about that.’
A flurry of possible replies jostled in my brain, along with a memory of flames blazing. In the end I nodded, shook my head, then shrugged.
She kept her gaze on the windows, and in a faraway voice said, ‘From what I’ve read, it seems that if you experience a strong emotion as you’re dying, then that same emotion can crop up in subsequent lives.’
It was as if she’d stung me.
‘What are you saying, Iris? What the hell are you talking about?’
She didn’t look at me. ‘For instance, if you’re being burned alive, you might hate the person you blame for putting you there.’
I choked. ‘Stop! Shut up. Just shut it.’
She ignored me. ‘You might call out I curse you to burn in hell. I will hate you for ever .’
I bent over, my arms pressed into my stomach. Tears blobbed onto my knees. ‘You’re crazy, a raving witch. How …? I don’t want to think about …’
She rubbed my back, and god help me I let her. It was soothing, comforting. I couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to process what she’d hit me with. How did she know the madness inside my head? Dying? Subsequent lives? My father might be dying at this very moment.
I straightened up, shucking her hand away. ‘Why bring all this up right now? You sure do pick your moments.’
‘What moment should I have picked?’ She eyeballed me, right when I didn’t want her to. ‘When you came to dinner after you got back from school? No? Last night?’ Her eyes drilled me. ‘Well?’
‘And now is better? In a hospital waiting room, for chrissakes?’
‘Tragedy brings people closer,’ she said. ‘Takes down the normal barriers.’
‘This isn’t a tragedy. He’s going to come through. Don’t talk like he’s going to die.’
I didn’t want to be near her, but when I tried to get up, she pulled me down again.
‘I didn’t mean that and you know it.’
I sniffed, not willing to admit I did know it. I didn’t want to think about Dad, it was too frightening. Oh god, the rock and hard place again.
I strove to collect my thoughts, but I was too furious — too confused — to be calm and reasoned. ‘Are you saying you always knew about … that? You always knew why I kept my distance from you? You had a handy little screening of you and me in some movie scenario, and wham — there’s your answer?’
‘No, Bess. I’m not saying that.’ Her eyes were spitting fury — I’d never seen her riled up before. She leaned in, almost hissing at me. ‘I’m not talking any more about it right now. You’re far too hostile. My husband’s on an operating table, fighting for his life. I do not want to deal with your negativity right now.’
‘Your husband. My father. Fine. Don’t talk.’
We sat in silence, both of us with our arms folded.
After a bit, she said, ‘You’ll be glad you had me burnt as a witch.’
That surprised a laugh out of me. ‘It had crossed my mind.’
She relaxed. ‘Let’s leave it for now. I’ll tell you everything. I promise. But it’ll be better when we’re not so on edge.’
‘Okay. I guess.’ I found I was too heartsick and too worried to stay angry, or to wrestle any more with her bombshell. Hostile . At least she wasn’t holding a grudge or sulking.
‘What happened?’ Iris asked. ‘Did he collapse at work?’
I summarised the day for her, then said, ‘I signed the partnership deal. I guess that means I could take over till he gets well again.’
She gasped. ‘Would you? It’ll mean the world to him if you would.’
I shrugged. ‘I can try.’ But not if he dies. What would be the point? I wanted my father back in all his bulldozing glory. ‘The place is on its last legs. Did you know, Iris? Did he tell you it was in trouble?’
‘You know what he’s like. He’s the
Iris leaned back in her chair and, without looking at me, said, ‘We’ve never got close, have we, Bess? I’ve always been sorry about that.’
A flurry of possible replies jostled in my brain, along with a memory of flames blazing. In the end I nodded, shook my head, then shrugged.
She kept her gaze on the windows, and in a faraway voice said, ‘From what I’ve read, it seems that if you experience a strong emotion as you’re dying, then that same emotion can crop up in subsequent lives.’
It was as if she’d stung me.
‘What are you saying, Iris? What the hell are you talking about?’
She didn’t look at me. ‘For instance, if you’re being burned alive, you might hate the person you blame for putting you there.’
I choked. ‘Stop! Shut up. Just shut it.’
She ignored me. ‘You might call out I curse you to burn in hell. I will hate you for ever .’
I bent over, my arms pressed into my stomach. Tears blobbed onto my knees. ‘You’re crazy, a raving witch. How …? I don’t want to think about …’
She rubbed my back, and god help me I let her. It was soothing, comforting. I couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to process what she’d hit me with. How did she know the madness inside my head? Dying? Subsequent lives? My father might be dying at this very moment.
I straightened up, shucking her hand away. ‘Why bring all this up right now? You sure do pick your moments.’
‘What moment should I have picked?’ She eyeballed me, right when I didn’t want her to. ‘When you came to dinner after you got back from school? No? Last night?’ Her eyes drilled me. ‘Well?’
‘And now is better? In a hospital waiting room, for chrissakes?’
‘Tragedy brings people closer,’ she said. ‘Takes down the normal barriers.’
‘This isn’t a tragedy. He’s going to come through. Don’t talk like he’s going to die.’
I didn’t want to be near her, but when I tried to get up, she pulled me down again.
‘I didn’t mean that and you know it.’
I sniffed, not willing to admit I did know it. I didn’t want to think about Dad, it was too frightening. Oh god, the rock and hard place again.
I strove to collect my thoughts, but I was too furious — too confused — to be calm and reasoned. ‘Are you saying you always knew about … that? You always knew why I kept my distance from you? You had a handy little screening of you and me in some movie scenario, and wham — there’s your answer?’
‘No, Bess. I’m not saying that.’ Her eyes were spitting fury — I’d never seen her riled up before. She leaned in, almost hissing at me. ‘I’m not talking any more about it right now. You’re far too hostile. My husband’s on an operating table, fighting for his life. I do not want to deal with your negativity right now.’
‘Your husband. My father. Fine. Don’t talk.’
We sat in silence, both of us with our arms folded.
After a bit, she said, ‘You’ll be glad you had me burnt as a witch.’
That surprised a laugh out of me. ‘It had crossed my mind.’
She relaxed. ‘Let’s leave it for now. I’ll tell you everything. I promise. But it’ll be better when we’re not so on edge.’
‘Okay. I guess.’ I found I was too heartsick and too worried to stay angry, or to wrestle any more with her bombshell. Hostile . At least she wasn’t holding a grudge or sulking.
‘What happened?’ Iris asked. ‘Did he collapse at work?’
I summarised the day for her, then said, ‘I signed the partnership deal. I guess that means I could take over till he gets well again.’
She gasped. ‘Would you? It’ll mean the world to him if you would.’
I shrugged. ‘I can try.’ But not if he dies. What would be the point? I wanted my father back in all his bulldozing glory. ‘The place is on its last legs. Did you know, Iris? Did he tell you it was in trouble?’
‘You know what he’s like. He’s the
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