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James knows his parents’ marriage is not his responsibility.
His wife, Connie, reminds him of it all the time. She’s good for him like that. She’s always pointing out that he doesn’t owe them anything, that they’re the parents and he the child, even though he’s now a grown man with a career and a perfect wife, and they’re the two still acting like petulant toddlers.
So - he knows his parents’ marriage isn’t his responsibility, but he wants to fix it anyway.
He has wanted to fix it for almost as long as he can remember, in fact. Even in his very earliest childhood memories, their relationship was already visibly on the rocks. By the time he was a pre-teen, the pair of them were living apart at least eleven months out of every twelve. But the devil of it is, they’ve never actually divorced. They’re still legally married, still oddly loyal to one another. His father has had an alarming string of affairs, especially in the first years of that separation - and yet he still won’t hear a bad word said about his wife.
At least - he won’t hear a bad word said about her by anyone but himself.
Now he’s a bit older and has given it some thought, James thinks he can see the crux of the issue. His parents are still entirely and wholeheartedly in love with one another. They’re just hopeless at communicating, easily scared, and each utterly incapable of giving the other a chance to surprise them for the better. So it is that his father had his house redecorated in his mother’s favourite colours, not three years ago, just in case she should ever pop home. His mother still sends a little something hand-knitted or hand-sewn for every single one of his father’s birthdays.
And meanwhile, despite all that, the two of them refuse to give their relationship the benefit of the doubt at every possible turn.
But now, this Christmas, James thinks he has the answer. He thinks he has the perfect gift planned to solve all their problems. He typically finds it quite difficult to choose gifts for his parents, since his father is from old money and technically a member of the English nobility, since no one in the family wants for anything. But this year, he has hit upon a rush of inspiration.
He’s going to gift them a second honeymoon.
He arranges the whole thing with Connie’s help - even though she reminds him, along the way, that he isn’t obliged to send his parents on a second honeymoon. But all the same, she supports him to the hilt, when he says that he’d like to invite his parents over for a family dinner and present to them their Christmas gift.
It’s early December, when they host that dinner. James makes a point of having all his father’s favourite dishes ready, puts a few bits of festive greenery he knows his mother will like around the place. If all else fails, he can at least ask what she thinks of the evergreens.
He intends to give them their surprise Christmas gift after desert - because his father is typically more mellow with a full stomach, in his experience - but he has always been quite an impulsive sort, and tonight, his eagerness gets the better of him.
His mother is still picking at her main course when he unleashes the news.
“I invited you here to give you your Christmas gift.” He announces.
“What’s all that, son? Christmas gifts? It’s only December eighth. You can’t mean to give me a gift now. I tell you - Christmas wasn’t half so overdone as this when I was your age. You can’t go anywhere without mince pies in October and early Christmas gifts on December eighth these days.”
“I’ll have to give you this gift early, Pa, because you’ll need to unwrap it well before Christmas, if you take my meaning. I’m gifting you a trip to New York, leaving on the twenty-second - both you and Ma. I’ve bought you both a romantic Christmas trip to take together - a sort of second honeymoon, if you will.”
His words are met with perfect, shocking silence.
That’s so unusual in the Fife family that he doesn’t know how to react to it.
“Pa?” He tries. It is typically his father who speaks.
“A second honeymoon?” His father echoes, faint.
“Yes. To New York, like your first honeymoon. Remember? You had a winter wedding, and then the two of you went to -”
“I know where I went on honeymoon, son.” His father snaps.
Ah. Yes.
James should perhaps have expected that.
To his surprise, his mother speaks up next. “You bought us a second honeymoon? You’re sending us to New York for Christmas?”
“As I said.”
“We can’t possibly go.” His father decides now, all loud bluster. “I never heard such a daft idea. Why - we’re years past our honeymoon days, and I don’t like to travel - you know I don’t like to travel - and I’m sure your mother has no interest in going to New York. The food won’t agree with her. You know how it is - the food in New York simply won’t agree with her. She has a delicate stomach, and I won’t have her ruining her health on a fool’s errand like this.”
“I already thought of that, Pa. I’ve made all the arrangements with the hotel. They know what Ma can't eat and there'll be fresh fruit delivered for her every day, and they know everything they need to know to make you comfortable. They even know which washing detergent you like to use. I know you don’t like to travel, but I’ve made it as easy for you as possible.”
His father gapes at him in silence for a moment.
Meanwhile -
“How thoughtful.” His mother says - just that, all quiet and inscrutable as ever.
“I’m convinced it’s a daft idea.” His father gathers himself to repeat now. “Older folks like us don’t belong in New York, do we?”
“I’m sure there are other people pushing sixty in New York, George. I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only ones.” Connie offers, dry.
His father doesn’t laugh, of course.
“It’s a daft idea if ever I heard one.” His father insists, a little louder. “I don’t like to travel, and your mother won’t like all that heavy food, and a honeymoon in New York is for younger folks than us. And - ahm - besides all that, your mother won’t want to spend her Christmas with me. You know how it is. She’ll have plans with her sister and her nieces and nephews. She won’t want to be flying around the world with me.”
“I expect I could explain the situation to my sister if we did go to New York.” His mother offers, mild, quiet.
His father stares at her very hard indeed, at that.
James takes up the opening, presses his advantage. “I'm not just sending you both to New York and calling it a second honeymoon. I insist that you’re going to spend the time seeing the best in each other and remembering how to have a constructive conversation as well. I’ve booked you all sorts of couples activities to make a proper honeymoon of it. You’ve got a fancy dinner every night - and I’ve checked that there are things on all the menus which Ma can eat, before you start your fussing, Pa - and then during the days you’ve got tickets for all the famous sights, a couple of Broadway shows with the best seats in the house, and -”
“Broadway?” His father asks, frowning. “Broadway? We never did that before.”
“Perhaps you should have done. You might have learned a thing or two about love stories.” James insists, jaw set firm.
“I always did want to go to a show on Broadway.” His mother pipes up.
The mood changes at once. Suddenly his father is peering at her, frowning, leaning forward in his seat as if to see how he might accommodate this sudden wish.
“Did you, Bella? You liked the idea of seeing a show? I never knew. Well, now - we can’t have you missing out. Perhaps you and your sister could use the tickets instead?”
“Really, George - you’d have me take a honeymoon with my sister? I know you can’t stand the sight of me these days, but that’s a little -”
“You would say that. You - ahm - that’s just…”
“My sister? You’re so sick of me that you’d send me on the trip of a lifetime with my sister?”
“I only thought you’d enjoy it better with your sister.” His father protests, hands spread wide. “If you want to go to Broadway, then you must go to Broadway. I’ll not stand in your way. You must use the tickets - and use them however you like. Go alone if you prefer. Take your sister or take James. Take our Connie - you’ve been glad to welcome her to the family.”
“For God’s sake, Pa - go with her yourself.” James simply shouts across the table at him.
Sometimes that’s the only way of getting through to his father, in his experience. Sometimes the man does simply respond better to a raised voice. It’s evidently a language he understands.
“Well - ahm - that’s just … come along, son - I’m sure your mother doesn’t want to -”
“George.” That’s Connie, now, leaning across the table on her elbows and speaking firmly to him. “Leave aside all that for a moment. Stop thinking of all the other people Bella might be more comfortable going on holiday with. Just answer a simple question - would you spend a fortnight in New York with her, if she didn’t mind the idea?”
“Of course I would. She’s my wife.” His father says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
The two of them make James want to bash their heads together, frankly. But as that’s evidently not a socially acceptable option, a fortnight in New York will have to do.
So -
“How does that sound, then, Ma? If Pa doesn’t mind going with you, and you like the idea of a Broadway show or two, will you accept your Christmas gift?” James asks plainly.
“Certainly I will. It’d be ungrateful not to. It’s a sweet thought, darling.”
“And you, Pa? You’ll do it? You’ll meet Ma at the airport on the twenty-second and join her on this second honeymoon?”
“At the airport? What sort of man do you take me for? A chap had much better collect his wife from her own home. My driver can drop us both off together. Really - meet her at the airport? I know your mother will be sick of the sight of me by the end of the fortnight, but I must insist on doing my part. I’ll not have her thinking I’ve got no manners.”
“Jolly good. You’ll pick her up on the twenty-second and the two of you will go to New York together.” James concludes.
“I still think it’s a daft idea.” His father grumbles.
“Of course you do.”
“It won’t be at all like a honeymoon. Why - your mother enjoyed our honeymoon a good deal, and I’m convinced she won’t enjoy this.”
James picks up a breadstick and tunes him out.
The matter is settled. There’s no point fretting about his father’s manners along the way.
…….
He hears from his parents rather more often than usual, in the next two weeks or so.
No - perhaps that’s unfair. His father does routinely phone him very often indeed, but he doesn’t usually say much of substance. His mother does frequently send him two-word messages and assorted photos of his cousins, but again, she doesn’t usually say things.
What’s interesting in the next fortnight is the sheer amount of content they manage to communicate.
So -
How many good evening dresses will I need? Are they formal restaurants in the evenings? I hope they’re not cocktail bars. Your father hates cocktail bars. Do they have gastropubs in New York? His mother texts him - quite the most words he has seen or heard her use in years.
They’re all formal restaurants. You’ll need a dress for every night if you don’t want to repeat outfits. The hotel will handle dry cleaning if you do.
And -
“I say, son - I’ve just had a thought - have you booked us a boat ride around that statue, hmm? I’m determined that there must be a boat ride around the statue. Your mother likes boat rides and carriage rides and tourist trips like that. If you’ll just tell me whether or not you’ve booked anything like that, I’ll book one or two more, if I can. You mustn’t spend any more of your money on this daft idea. But if there’s any space in the itinerary, I must insist on a boat ride or a carriage ride.”
“I’ve booked one boat trip and left space for an optional carriage ride if you like.”
“Jolly good. I’ll take care of that, then. Much obliged.”
And then -
Can you ask your father if there’s anything he’d like me to bring or have ready?
And the following day -
“Come along, then - have you any advice for me about your mother? Has she made any requests, hmm? Is there anything she’d like me to know before our departure? Anything I ought to bring or make ready or take care of?”
“Why not ask her yourself, Pa?”
“Daft business.”
“She asked me much the same thing yesterday, in fact. I think she’s quite keen to have this trip go well. She’s asked me loads of questions - she wanted to know how many dresses to pack and whether she should bring walking shoes and whether she could have a full copy of the itinerary to annotate.”
“Hmm. To annotate? What’s all that in aid of, then?”
“I think she’s quite looking forward to it.”
“She’s looking forward to that Broadway part. I must be ready for that. What are we seeing, anyway? Will I be able to follow the plot? I can’t be doing with musicals.”
There’s some irony to that, James decides, when the musicals are what ultimately sealed the deal on his father agreeing to the scheme.
All the same -
“Kiss Me, Kate and Hadestown.”
“You what now?”
“Kiss Me, Kate is exes-to-lovers and Hadestown is about the lengths people will go to for love. I decided not to try for subtlety.” James offers, dry.
“Exes and what?”
“It’s a musical about second chance love.”
“Oh.”
How fascinating.
Oh?
Not daft business or an angry shout, but oh?
“Pa?”
“I hope we’ll have a good time, son. I hope your mother will enjoy it at least. I hope she’ll be happy enough. You’ve gone to such a lot of effort - and she’s annotated her itinerary and all - so it’d be a shame if she had a wretched time.”
“I expect you’ll be very happy on holiday together if you give yourselves a chance.”
“We were very happy when we went there on honeymoon. Her family thought it was an odd choice of honeymoon, but she’d never been, and I wanted to treat her, and where else are newlyweds to go after a winter wedding? We had a fine old time of it, in the end. We danced through the night most every night - me, dancing all night, can you believe it? And we’d wander hand-in-hand down all those daft New York streets and talk about our dreams of having a big family and living happily ever after. She ate a doughnut on the third day. I still remember that - a doughnut. It was Christmas Eve, and you know how gluten doesn’t agree with her, but she ate a doughnut. Or - well - half a doughnut. A whole one would have been a bit much for that delicate stomach of hers. And she did want to feed me the other half. She giggled about it like anything.”
James can’t imagine his mother giggling. It’s simply not something he can hear, even in his wildest dreams.
That said - he couldn’t have imagined his father saying so much about their honeymoon, either, until it happened.
“I think she’d like to hear that you still remember it, Pa.” He tries.
“Daft business.”
“Maybe you should bring your dancing shoes this time, just in case. Maybe she should bring her walking shoes for all that time wandering hand-in-hand. Or - I don’t know, Pa - maybe you should take a good old-fashioned camera so you can make a fuss about making happy memories this time, hmm?”
“That’s a good idea, son. That’s the best idea I've ever heard. A good camera - I must take a good camera. And I must make sure I’ve got plenty of spending money. She’ll want a souvenir or two of this Broadway business.”
James has never known his father go anywhere underfunded, as it happens. All the same, he hums and agrees and urges him on.
He’s almost beginning to hope that this might go to plan.
…….
On December the twenty-second, he wakes up to four voice notes from his father, and one text from his mother.
We’re at the airport now. His mother tells him, with a photo of the two of them standing stiffly six inches apart by the departures sign.
He likely doesn’t need to listen to his father’s voice notes, now he knows they’ve safely arrived at the airport, but he listens to them all the same. It’s hard to break the habit of a lifetime now and stop making his parents’ marriage his problem.
The first one is from four that morning, when his father first woke up, and wondered whether James had any last-minute advice about being prepared for the trip.
The second one is from an hour later, notifying him that he’s setting off to collect his mother.
The third one is a voice note during the car journey itself - his father narrating a roundabout, of all things, and saying that they’re perhaps half an hour away from the airport and his mother looks to be in fair health, while his mother agrees meekly in the background.
The fourth one is a very interesting one indeed. It’s his father telling him that his mother said that he must call James and tell him what a lovely breakfast they’d had together at the airport, that they shared a pot of tea and watched the planes take off while the sun was rising, that he has already taken several photos of the planes and the sunrise and quite a few of his lovely wife on her second honeymoon, too.
That… seems like quite an encouraging sign.
James nods, and smiles a little, and tries to get on with his life and not think of his parents, at least for the few hours they’re actually on the plane.
…….
His father calls him eight hours later from baggage reclaim, because of course he does.
“This airport is bloody huge, son. I tell you - I never saw the like. There must have been thousands of people in that queue at passport control.”
“Mmm. Heathrow is typically busier, as it happens. Heathrow typically has more total flights.”
“Well, now - I don’t like Heathrow either. You know how it is. I’d never leave the country if I could help it.”
“You’d never leave your own home if you could help it.”
“Don’t be daft. I like fresh air and exercise as much as the next man.”
“How’s Ma?” James dares to ask, because presumably she is there, somewhere, not a million miles away from the end of the phone.
“She’s well - very well. She travels better than I do. She brought her own lunch for the plane - and a little something for me, too. She’s a wise woman, your mother. Very good at travel arrangements and planning and all that. You get that from her, no doubt.”
“And - Pa - how is she? Aside from having eaten lunch, how is she? Is she enjoying the trip?”
“Come along, son - lunch is important. You know that. You know how I fret about your mother’s health.”
“Yes, Pa. But you can buy all sorts of free-from foods whilst travelling these days, you know. It’s not like the early nineties. She’ll be fine in New York - just you wait and see.”
“Tell him I’m well.” James suddenly hears his mother’s voice, close in the background.
“I already told him you were well.” His father argues.
“Then maybe you could tell him it again. Or maybe he’d like to hear what we got up to on the plane.” She suggests.
“Good thinking. We watched a film - one your mother chose. I’m determined to show her a good time with these musicals and films and what have you.”
“Well done, Pa. Good idea. Watch a film mother likes from time to time.” James agrees. “And - here’s an idea - perhaps you might ask her to do something you like once in a while, too.”
“Daft business, that. We’re already doing what I like. We’re spending a bit of time together. I shan’t bother her beyond that. Here, now - that’s the belt starting up. You know - the belt for the suitcases. I must go and see to the luggage. I’ve already told your mother I’m happy to take care of her luggage.”
His father hangs up, then, without saying goodbye. Social niceties often escape him - it’s hardly unusual.
James wonders about texting him a little hint or two, by way of follow-up. He wonders about suggesting that carrying luggage around might be less useful than actually saying something about his feelings, that communication might be more welcome than any particular choice of film.
But he’s mentioned that before and it hasn’t done him any good. He’s suggested to his father more times than he can count that he might just try speaking openly about repairing his marriage. He’s suggested couples counselling, too - but that depends on both parties being ready to call this a marriage worth saving.
So James hopes that perhaps two weeks of forced romance might do the trick. He’s all out of other options, as far as he can see.
…….
James doesn’t hear a word from his parents for the whole of the next forty-eight hours.
It’s uncanny. His father hasn’t gone this long without speaking to him ever, not in his whole entire life. He used to leave him a voicemail at least once a day, back when he was a student.
It’s possible that they’re a little unusually close for a grown-up son and his awkward father, but perhaps that’s just what happens when an only son is raised by a separated dad. It was just the two of them at home, for most of James’ adolescence, and that still shows in how very often his father calls him even to this day.
He doesn’t hear from his mother anywhere near so much, and she’s a woman of fewer words anyway. But she does often send him a photo or a message, even if she’s not much of a talker.
So to have both of them dead silent now is quite the strangest thing he can imagine.
“Do you think they fell in the Hudson and the police haven’t got through to me yet?” He asks Connie, at one point, late on Christmas Eve.
“James, sunshine - they didn’t fall in the Hudson. I’m sure it’s a good sign that you haven’t heard from them. It means they’re all wrapped up in each other, doesn’t it? They’re leaning into the second honeymoon.”
“D’you think so? Would they be like this, if they were happy together? I always presumed Pa would call me right away if they sorted themselves out and tell me the whole entire story.”
“I think he will do that just as soon as he’s confident that they’ve sorted themselves out. If they’re still mid-sorting, he’s probably busy.” She reasons.
Hmm. That does seem logical. She’s an excellent wife, all things considered.
All the same -
“I’m sending out a search party if this goes on much longer.” He decides.
“Of course you are. But give them a little while first, hmm?”
He nods, tries for a smile, turns back to his book.
A quiet night in with his wife to celebrate Christmas Eve - and no interruptions from his overly-attached father?
When he looks at it like that, this is a slice of heaven.
…….
On Christmas morning he does the unthinkable.
He sets up a family group chat - just himself, his father, and his mother. Just the three Fifes, their little awkward family, and now he’s daring to make them awkward in virtual space, too. He’s never tried to message both of them at once before now.
He sends one message into the ether.
Merry Christmas! I hope NYC is treating you well.
Then he walks away. He gets on with having a lovely Christmas with his wife - a quiet Christmas, with no obligations to family, since they’re not seeing hers until tomorrow.
It’s everything he never knew he wanted until now. He’s decided that even before breakfast.
…….
It’s shortly after midday when his phone rings.
He fishes it from his pocket, checks the name flashing across the screen.
Huh. Evidently his brief foray into the unthinkable has set off a whole bunch more unthinkable events in turn. Because that’s his mother, voice calling the group chat he made this morning.
His mother. That’s his mother, picking up a phone.
He makes haste to answer the call.
“Ma?”
“Morning, darling. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas.”
“You already said that, son. Daft business, repeating yourself.” His father adds now.
“Pa?”
“You’re on speaker.” His mother informs him.
“We’re on your mother’s phone.” His father adds, as if that might not be obvious.
“I can see that, Pa.”
“We had your mother’s phone closer to the bed. She saw your message first - you know how it is. My phone is charging by the television. Daft business, that. I’ve no other complaints about this hotel room - it’s a perfectly pleasant hotel - but they need more sockets for a charger by the bed.”
“I’m sure you’ve mentioned that to the manager.” James notes, dry.
“Hasn’t occurred to me, in fact. It has not occurred to me. We’ve been altogether too busy, haven’t we, pet?”
“Very busy indeed.” His mother agrees.
“Ahm - merry Christmas, son. Merry Christmas. I must remember to say that. You already wished us a merry Christmas - we saw that when we woke up. It’s a good idea of yours, putting that group chat together. Your mother has taken so many pretty photos and she’ll want to be able to share them with you.”
“I'm sure your father has taken better photos. He brought a better camera.”
“But I must insist that your mother has a better eye for composition and all that. She does take lovely photos on her phone. I’m sure she’ll send you a few when we have a moment spare to send such things.”
“So - you’ve been busy having a good time?” James dares to ask.
“Well, now - I don’t like to presume your mother has had a good time - but I like it well enough. I - ahm - I don’t like travelling, as you well know, but I’ve a fondness for New York, since we did honeymoon here and all - and it’s a fine treat to go on holiday with your mother for a change.”
“I’m certainly having a good time.” His mother even goes so far as to add.
James feels himself sigh in relief at that. Truly - he does. Even after all these years of practising not being responsible for his parents’ marriage, somehow, he does still sigh in relief to hear that it’s going well.
So -
“I hope you’ll keep enjoying yourselves. And I’m glad to hear you’re liking each other’s company.” He tries.
“Ahm - thank you, son. Thank you for sending us over here. I know I did call it a daft idea, but - ahm - it’s… you know.”
“I think I do know, Pa, yes.”
“Jolly good. Well, then - we must be going. Adventure calls. We can’t be talking your ear off all morning.”
“Merry Christmas to Connie, too.”
“Ahm - yes. Well said, pet. Merry Christmas to your wife, son. I hope you both have a good one. A husband and wife had much better spend Christmas together when they can - that’s what I think. So - ahm - we’ll be going.”
“Goodbye, Pa, Ma. Merry Christmas.”
“Goodbye, son.”
Hmm.
This might, perhaps, be the best idea he has ever had.
…….
Time proves him right, on that one. With every passing day there’s more and more evidence that sending his parents on a second honeymoon together is the best idea he has ever had in his life.
The group chat isn’t busy, as such. It’s not busy compared with the number of calls and voice notes he usually has from his father. But there’s a healthy stream of traffic there, an update or two most days. James traces the story of a rather successful trip in them, one message at a time.
His mother’s photos make up quite a large proportion of the traffic. There are photos of the happy couple posing next to New York landmarks, photos of his father actually laughing for a change over the dinner table. There’s one rather sweet one where she’s taking a photo reflected in his father’s camera lens in turn, the two of them evidently fighting to capture the moment.
On December 29th, there’s a photo of the two of them eating doughnuts together, sugar all around their faces.
And -
Don’t fret. There’s no gluten or dairy. We found a bakery which does these things as a specialty. I tell you - there’s everything in New York. A bakery which makes special doughnuts your mother can eat - what a wonder!
James doesn’t know which is odder - the sight of his parents getting back together before his very eyes, one photo at a time, or the sight of his father learning how to text. The man likes the sound of his own voice so much that he has always avoided texting, before now.
But now he seems to have become a more mellow sort of man who wants to caption photos of his wife on holiday - or something very like that.
James dares to lean into it, dares to push his luck a little further.
There are free-from bakeries in London too. You could try some together in the new year.
He gets two heart reactions for that - just two reactions, and not a word in reply.
Jolly good. They’re both far too busy having fun to hang around and message him, then.
That’s just as it should be.
…….
By the time his parents fly home, very early in January, James is confident that the trip has done something, at least. He’s confident that they’ve had a good time and remembered that they rather like each other, and even that much feels like a minor miracle.
He doesn’t know what the future holds. He doesn’t know whether he has fixed their marriage - even though it’s not his to fix, of course - and he doesn’t know how long they’ll stay civil.
But all the same, he’s feeling more optimistic than usual about the state of his family, as the new year begins. He’s thinking that a few more family dinners might be possible, that his parents might like to visit their grandchildren together if ever he and Connie should have a young family of their own. He can perhaps even imagine a world where they could plausibly all go to the seaside together, all three generations, for an occasional weekend each spring.
He’s dreaming dreams of about that sort of scale, until his father calls him on January sixth and tells him the unthinkable - that is, he tells him a bit more which would have been unthinkable, only last month.
“Happy epiphany, son.”
“Do we celebrate epiphany?” James asks, mild. His father isn’t much one for church.
“I think we should. We had much better celebrate every occasion we can - that’s what I have decided.”
“Jolly good. Then - ahm - happy epiphany.” James tries.
“Well said. Your mother would say happy epiphany, too, I’m sure - only she’s still asleep. You know how it is. She’s more one for sleeping late in a morning than you or I. I suppose I could go and wake her if you’d like to speak to her - I ought to have thought of that. She does like to hear from you. She gets ever so excited about that group chat. She likes to send you her photos and all that.”
“Hang on - Pa - she’s there?”
“Of course she’s here.” His father tells him, firm. “Where else should she be? We arrived home from our second honeymoon just three days ago, and we’ve a new year’s resolution to live happily together. We’re hardly likely to have broken it by epiphany.”
James grins broadly down the phone. “That is why you called me. We don’t celebrate epiphany at all. You wanted an excuse to pick up the phone and tell me how smug you are at having that new year’s resolution with Ma.”
“Come along, now, son - since when do I need an excuse to phone you?”
“A fair point.” James concedes, nodding. “You don’t need an excuse, usually. But this isn’t a usual conversation, is it? If hypothetically you were feeling a bit nervous about starting over with Ma, you might call me to wish me a happy epiphany and then start talking about her.”
His father chuckles stiffly on the other end of the phone.
“So I’m right, then?” James checks.
“Of course you are. I’ve never known you to be wrong in all your life. You’ve your mother’s brain, thank heavens. So - ahm - there. We’re making a second go of it. She was ever so affectionate while we were away together, so then after all that Broadway business, I said a bit about love stories and - and there you have it. We got to talking and sorting ourselves out. It turns out she was still feeling badly about all that business with children - can you believe it? She still had this idea that she took my dreams from me by only having the one son. It’s utter madness, that, and I told her so. Why - it’s the twenty-first century. There’s no need to be unhappy about a small family these days. Modern medicine can do almost anything and - and I did look briefly at how adoption works, once upon a time, just out of interest, you know. So if it had mattered to me I’m certain we might have had more children. I - ahm - I do wonder now whether it mattered to her more than I realised. I wonder if I’ve still not understood all of it. But - ahm - that was the worst of it, I think. We’ve cleared that part up. I told her that I would never be so greedy as to want more than the one perfect son we have, and then I told her that I care about her happiness more than anything - you know how it is - and - ahm - I did manage to apologise for those few… indiscretions of mine, when we first separated. So - so then I told her my greatest dream was to grow old with her, and to build whatever life she wanted around her - and she laughed and told me the same thing, if you can believe it - so here we are, with our new year’s resolution.”
James is accustomed to hearing his father talk at great length, of course. It’s quite routine in these parts.
But that is a lengthy speech even by his usual standards, and by the end of it James is wondering if he’ll ever stop - if his nervous enthusiasm will ever die away far enough to allow anyone else to get a word in edgeways.
When at last his father does fall silent, though, James finds that he’s not entirely sure what to say.
In fact -
“Son? Are you still there? It’d be awkward if we’d got cut off, since I’m not sure I’d have the courage to tell you all that again.”
James laughs, now, and finds some words. “Don’t worry, Pa. I’m still here. Well done. I’m delighted for you both.”
“I am too, rather.” His father says, and he sounds smug as anything.
“You’ll have to keep working at it, you know. It’s not as if a marriage can be magically fixed and then need nothing else doing. You’ll have to keep checking in with each other and solving all the little problems as they come up.”
“Mmm. I’m not sure how we’ll get along with that, but we’ll do our best. And I’ve told her she must demand a trip to New York if ever she’s unhappy with me. That’ll sort us out if we need it.”
“What will you demand, if you’re unhappy with her?”
“That’s a daft question. I’m determined never to be unhappy with her. I’m convinced she can do no wrong, now she’s moved back in.” His father says, with a stiff little chuckle.
James wonders what to do about that. It can’t be sustainable. It feels like a problem which needs fixing, like a -
Like a thing which isn’t his responsibility, and which he should walk away from. He’s given his parents a nudge, and they’ve decided they’re ready and willing to do the rest. He must just be delighted for them and let it happen, let them sort themselves out at their own pace.
He’s still thinking about that when his father presses on in a new direction.
“We’re going out for supper later. I thought we better had - I’ve decided we had much better celebrate epiphany than not. And I’ve made myself a bit of a shortlist over the years of restaurants where the menu might suit your mother, if ever I had cause to take her out to a restaurant again. I’ve thirty-eight places shortlisted within an hour’s journey where the reviews are good and they advertise a special dietary menu. I’ve made a bit of a project of it in recent years - you know how it is. You know how I like a project. So now we’re to make another project of eating at them all.”
“You spent the last few years while you and Ma were separated on planning thirty-eight hypothetical dinner dates with her.” James echoes back to him, fond.
“Of course I did. I knew I’d want to be prepared if ever we sorted ourselves out again. I wouldn’t want to make a hash of it now she’s decided to give me another chance. Here, now - I’d best be going. I hear movement upstairs. I’d best see to breakfast. I did say I would.”
“Bye, Pa. Happy epiphany.”
“Goodbye, son. Best wishes to your wife.”
“And best wishes to yours.”
James calls that a rather successful Christmas gift, all in all. As he hangs up the phone, he can’t help but think of that. His idea to give his parents a nudge turned out very well indeed.
Heaven only knows how he’s going to beat that for a gift next Christmas.