Dragon Lady

Lisa had just come in from her Safeway shift when she heard shouting; Darren and mum were fighting again. She hesitated for a moment and Darren ran from the kitchen and cannon-balled into her. His ginger hair bristled; his face was red with anger and his freckles stood out ferociously.

“Watch out Lisa, the dragon lady’s on the warpath again, breathing fire and brimstone and insisting I’ll come to a bad end.”

“Who? Oh mum, she’s alright you just have to know how to handle her.”

“Alright to you maybe but I swear she’d as happily bite my head off as she would treat me like a human being. It is not my fault I look like dad, it is not my fault that he ran off with another woman and left mum to raise the two of us by herself and it is certainly not my fault that she can’t see past the way I look, to the person I really am.”

“Cut her some slack Darren. She’s going through a rough time.”

“That’s right! Side with her, you always do anyway,” he yelled, before wrenching open the front door, hurling himself through it and then slamming it behind him. The pictures in the hallway vibrated and one trembled and fell before Lisa could catch it. The glass shattered as it hit the floor and Lisa noted, as she bent to pick up the pieces that it was the last photo ever taken with them as a family. They were happy then.

Dad had come home from work and had been so pleased at getting a bonus that his ginger moustache wobbled with excitement. Dad had insisted on getting a professional picture with the money, mum had wanted to pay extra on the bills ‘to help them get ahead’, she said. Dad had won the argument by picking mum up and singing ‘Maggie May’, while twirling her around. Mum had laughed and surrendered. She laughed often then. Now she hardly ever laughed and when she did, it was brittle and bitter.

Mum had put on her best red dress made of heavy crepe for the picture. She put her hair up in a French Roll and Lisa thought she looked like an angel. Dad must have thought so too because he picked her up and kissed her on the mouth in front of both of the kids, then mum’s face went as red as her dress before she laughed and scolded him. Mum had made Lisa and Darren dress up too. Lisa wore a pink satin party dress and had her long hair put in rag curls the night before so that the ringlets fell down her back, catching the light and highlighting the auburn. Darren was supposed to wear a suit but while the photographer was setting up, he found a sink and splashed soapy water on his jacket and the front of his shirt. He had to wear a Fairisle pullover, retrieved from the car to cover the wet patches. He stood in front of his dad and they wore identical grins except for Darren’s two missing front teeth where he had fallen and knocked them out. His ginger hair, which had been slicked down had sprung back into the unruly curls that dad loved to ruffle.

Four months later dad was gone. He had disappeared as silently as the night melts into dawn. ‘Gone with his floozy’ was what mum said in a tight-lipped voice. Darren must have been seven, no eight, because Lisa was eleven. Things were never the same after that. Mum kept the house exactly as it had been for nearly a year and then in a cleaning frenzy, she threw everything of dad’s out. Only the picture was saved mostly because Darren had begged for it. Mum had looked at him, smiled her last natural smile had and given in. Despite this Darren did not seem to be able to do anything right. As he said on more than one occasion, ‘My breathing is a crime when it comes to mum’s tolerance.’

Lisa picked up the shards of glass and knew that he was right, but she did not want it to be like this especially now mum was…mum was…she shied away from the thought and looked up to see mum standing there with a bitter smile on her face. “Gone?” she said more in affirmation than question. Then she bent down and began to help.

“Mmm, he just ran out!” Lisa responded as she glanced up and looked at her mum. She looked awful; she had always been slim but now her skin hung on her loosely like a Sharpei puppy. Her hair was dull and her hazel eyes, ‘my best feature’ she once called them had lost their sparkle. Why couldn’t Darren see how bad she looked? Why couldn’t he know something was wrong?

“Did you tell him Mum?”

“No. I couldn’t. It is just that…”

“I know. He is just like dad. Why can’t you get over what dad did to you and accept that Darren isn’t dad no matter how much he looks like him.”

“I was going to say, it is just that he’s so young. Sixteen is far too young for him to be supporting me. He should be out having fun.”

“I see! So instead, you are going to worry yourself sick and yell at him for being thoughtless. Is that it? Honestly I don’t know who’s worse!”

“It might be nothing. I don’t want to have to worry him for no reason.”

“And it might be something. The doctor thinks it’s something, that’s why he ordered the biopsy as soon as there’s a bed. What! Are you just going to wait until you get the call so that Darren comes home to an empty house and doesn’t know what’s happened?”

“You’re right of course. I’ll tell him tomorrow.” she mumbled her shoulders slumped in defeat. Lisa felt sorry for her but would not back down. This was too important.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed,” she said dispiritedly “ I’m sorry I haven’t cooked, that’s what Darren and I argued about. Can you manage something? Oh and could you keep an ear out for Darren I don’t think he took his key.”

“Sure mum, I can manage,” replied Lisa, noticing, not for the first time, how dark the shadows were under mum’s eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

Later that night after they had both gone to bed, Lisa heard the knock on the door that signaled Darren coming home. She put on her pink satin dressing gown and fluffy ‘Eyore’ slippers and shuffled to the door sleepily. When she opened it there was Darren and with him - “Dad!” she exclaimed involuntarily, “What are you doing here?”

“I found him or rather he found me,” grinned Darren sheepishly. “I was coming home from Craig’s and he barreled into me outside ‘The Green Man,’ the pub down the road. “Well after picking ourselves up nothing else would do but to bring him home.”

Lisa looked in disgust at Darren and in doing so looked inadvertently at her dad. He was unshaven, his clothing looked slept in and she could smell the beer on both his breath and clothing. His lovely Irish eyes were bloodshot and it looked as if he had been on an eight-year bender. In addition, he looked happy to see her and she realized with a start that she did not feel the same. She had never been plagued by hero worship, she knew his faults but when she was eleven he was at least clean if not always sober.

Now he looked like he had not washed in a while and his skin gave off the stale odour of old beer and sweat. He opened his arms and slurred. “Hawareya? Haven’t ya got a hug for yer old dad?”

She recoiled and stuttered quickly. “Cup o’ tea? I’ll just get some. How do you have it?” and she fled to the kitchen.

While she put the willowware sugar bowl, milk jug and cups and saucers on the red bakelite tray, she heard the sounds of muted conversation, Darren sounded so excited to have his dad back in the house that she didn’t have the heart to disillusion him. She warmed the pot and made the tea, stalling. Then raising her head bravely and giving her chin the tilt she had learned from her mother, she strode into the living room using the tray as a shield.

She set the tray down and sat firmly on the floral armchair opposite her dad who was sitting on the couch with a vacant spot beside him, as if in invitation. Darren was standing by the mantle, playing with the Dresden shepherdess that had more cracks than china but which mum had refused to throw away, saying it held sentimental value that couldn’t be replaced.

“Aren’t ye glad to see me Colleen?”

“Yes dad, but it’s been eight years! Eight years without a word and now this!”

“Ah! Weel Oi’ve ben a wee bit busy wit this and that.”

“Why are you here dad?”

“Boyo here asted me and Oi thought I could sort mesel’ out if Oi was home like. Is Maggie here?”

“Yes she’s here, she’s sleeping. Look dad this is a bad time for us. Mum’s not well…” Then realizing that Darren was standing there and did not know, she stopped abruptly.

“What about mum? I knew something was wrong but she won’t talk about it. I hate not knowing!” He cried passionately.

“Let me tell you then,” whispered mum into the silence that had fallen after Darren’s speech.

“Mum!” squeaked Darren and Lisa together. Lisa rose, but it was Darren who practically ran across the room, took her by the arm as gently as if she was the shepherdess, and seated her in the other armchair.

“The doctor thinks I have colon Cancer.” she said without preamble. “He doesn’t know for sure and I’m scheduled for a biopsy as soon as possible. If he’s right it doesn’t look good.”

“Tis a good thing I came then…you’ll need me around.” blurted dad into the silence.

“No Mick! I don’t need you. I have the children. They’re support enough, especially Darren who has stayed when he could have left. I haven’t needed you for seven years.”

Dad swallowed and looked like he had eaten a live goldfish. “ The tang is, everytang’s gone downhill a mite since I left. Mary left an I bin on mah oun since. Oi’ve been in a bit o’ trouble with the pahlice too and I need ta be with someone. I need to be here.”

“So it wasn’t an accident me running into you tonight. You planned this. Well mum’s right we don’t need you and if you need us…well after eight years with no contact…tough.”

Dad looked appealingly from Mum to Lisa and saw no concession in their eyes; he got up from the couch and shuffled to the door, opened it but hesitated on the step. Lisa thought that in the orange glow of the streetlight he looked frailer than mum, if that was possible, but she did not feel sympathy for him. She rose and shut the door behind him and turned to face the tea and a conversation long overdue.