Evesdropping

This morning I am hunkered down on the dry moss beneath the window of my next door neighbors and trying to ignore the overpowering drain and its chemical ripsnorter. Their kitchen is spacious and their voices travel to me on satellite delay. I have no connection with these people at all, not one nod of recognition or embarrassed smile. Not so much as a bag of sugar has passed between us. What does pass between Peter, Helen and myself, is my curiosity and the daily bottles of oxygen and cartons of pills that are delivered with fierce regularity by a series of men in starched which delivery boiler suits. Occasionally doctors, consultants and burly nurses arrive and muscle their way past whoever answers the door. In due time I expect apothecary’s and necromancers to show up and install a crane that will dangle a glass pyramid above the bungalow to concentrate some fictional energy. I listened at the cracked window with my back to the wall.

PETER: When did this happen?

HELEN: Yesterday.

PETER: Yesterday? Why have you waited 'til now to tell me? Why didn't you call?

HELEN: I knew you'd be angry.

PETER: Angry? Why would I be angry? As it turns out I'm just simmering although that may change depending on what you say in the next few minutes. And don't even bother apologizing.

HELEN: But...

PETER: It'll only make you feel better and I don't want that. I want you to feel worse.

HELEN: I don't think I could. What was I supposed to do?

PETER: You could have released him

HELEN: You know what? That's what I wanted to do, that was what we had talked about, over and over until the air turned blue and my voice was wrecked from all the shouting. Let him go was what we agreed.

PETER: That is what we agreed. So what changed?

HELEN: He was lying there flopping about and all I could see was him the way he used to be so full of life so, so colorful and for a moment it all came back, like a proper childhood. And then I thought of you.

PETER: Me? You knew what I wanted; I couldn't have made it any clearer. I decided, no, we decided that we had been through enough. It was our time again.

HELEN: Yes.

PETER: You know we may never get another chance?

HELEN: Yes.

PETER: And if you had another chance?

HELEN: I don't...

PETER: Stop. We both know the answer.

HELEN: Peter, you're a bastard you know that don't you? This was never about our child. This wasn't about us, it was never about us. It was about you, about your freedom, about the fact that as you get older, you feel that you are just wasting your life on two people who don't really have one.

PETER: Is that what you think?

HELEN: Yes, in fact now I've had time to think, I'm sure it's the truth.

PETER: I can assure you that nothing...

HELEN: You can't assure me of anything right now. You can't assure me that you'll be here next year, in five years, next week? Will you be here next week?

PETER: Helen...

HELEN: You weren't here last week, in fact your face seems to change and get stranger every time that you come home. It's like you've been away having fun, relaxing, being comfortable, being loved? Is that it?

PETER: Love? Jesus Helen I've forgotten what that whore looks like. You're right of course, about the comfortable bit, at least and I'm not just being contrite just to calm you down. Whilst I've been away, I've been able to relax; it's just something I'm able to do; switch off, pretend that my other life simply isn't there.

HELEN: I can't do that; you shouldn't be able to do that. Why aren't you loving your child every hour of the day, why aren't you thinking about him every minute you spend in that miserable suit of yours? For chrissakes Peter, I haven't got a costume I can put on, get in my car and go play-acting for the day.

PETER: So this isn't about me or Ben, it's about you. You and caring for Ben.

HELEN: Don't you fucking twist my words. You've never really understood have you. It's always been about me hasn't it? I was the one who almost left it too late to have children and then I was the one who couldn't have kids. I was the one who took drugs when I was younger, who drank too much, had the odd fag when I was pregnant, worked at that place, and when I finally had Ben, it was my rusty genes that made him like he is.

PETER: Helen I really don't think...

HELEN: Shut up! Aaarrgh. Don't you see? I screwed all this up, not you. I was even the one who couldn't be strong enough to end it all when I had the chance. I had to call that ambulance. And you know, instead of going to the hospital for the eight thousandth time in his life, do you know what I did?

PETER: No.

HELEN: I went to bed and I wondered. I wondered what would have happened if you had been home, knowing that if you had, I'd made up my mind to kill you rather than watch my son die on his bedroom floor. He is the sum of all my fuck ups Peter but he is still my son. He's all

I have as twisted as he is. Sometimes I wonder if you wish we should've just left him in a phone box.

PETER: You don't know what you're saying Helen. I can't believe these words are coming from you.

HELEN: Perhaps they aren't, perhaps they are? I don't know who I am anymore Peter. Do you?