The Aftermath, Gail Schimmel [sneezy the snowman read aloud .txt] 📗

needs a drink to get through all this self-analysis.’ I turn to see if he is being serious, but as our eyes meet, he starts to laugh.

‘Oh, that’s nasty of me,’ he says. ‘Pretend I never said it.’

I smile. ‘She is awfully sure of what sort of person she is.’ We are speaking softly so Lizette, who is lecturing Edward, won’t hear us.

‘Once . . .’ says Larry conspiratorially, ‘once I had a sip of wine every time she said, “I’m the sort of person” or anything similar. I got so drunk. Miriam was furious with me.’

I laugh out loud. ‘I’m almost tempted to try. It must have been hilarious.’

‘Hilarious and kind of terrible,’ says Larry. ‘I wasn’t in a good space. And then when I got drunk, I kept starting my own sentences with “I’m the sort of person . . .”, and Miriam thought I was doing it deliberately. But here’s the terrible part: I wasn’t. It’s just contagious. Like a cold.’

Lizette intervenes. ‘Have you caught a cold, Larry?’ she asks. ‘I’m not the sort of person who gets sick, but when I do, I always take lots of vitamin C. You should try that.’

Larry smiles easily. ‘That’s a very good idea, Lizzy. I’ll definitely try that.’

Lizette looks thrilled at this, and I realise that Larry is a very kind man, despite his teasing.

‘I think Lizette’s the sort of person who likes to help people,’ I say.

‘Oh, I am, Helen, I am,’ says Lizette, delighted, while Larry snorts on his wine.

The lunch is easy after that – the tone is set. We all gently tease Lizette, who loves it and has no idea she’s being teased. Stan probably knows, but he seems to be a man who is happy if his wife is happy, merely reining her in with a pat on her arm or a quiet comment when she gets a bit overexcited. She always takes his criticism well – ‘You are so right, darling’ – and then blithely ignores it.

Somehow, Larry and I manage to speak a bit in-between all this. I tell him about Julia and he tells me about his two sons, who are in their late teens and who live with him. They haven’t seen their mother since she left with the gym instructor and they won’t even speak to her on the phone. Larry is matter-of-fact about it, which means I am matter-of-fact when I tell him about Mike and the bare bones of the accident – the version I always tell. The sanitised version. But Larry is an insightful person.

‘So, you were stuck in the car, conscious, for hours?’ he asks.

Somehow, people don’t usually pick up on this.

‘Yes.’

‘That must have been a living hell.’

‘It was.’ I close my eyes and I am briefly back there, but I force the memories away. I’m having a good time. I do not need to go back. There’s no point.

The reason for Larry’s insight soon becomes clear: he’s a psychologist. When he tells me, I feel a hint of discomfort at having exposed myself. But he explains that his work now is mostly corporate – he does executive life coaching.

‘After my wife left me and I didn’t see it coming,’ he explains, ‘I didn’t think I could hold myself up as a bastion of human understanding.’

Edward is listening in. ‘You’re too hard on yourself, Larry. Miri always says so.’

Larry reaches across the table and for a moment the two men grasp hands. ‘I miss her too,’ says Larry.

‘I know you do,’ says Edward. ‘But she’ll be back. I know it.’

Larry nods. ‘Can’t keep a good woman down,’ he says, and Edward laughs. I have a brief vision of that flying hand.

It’s an easy afternoon, despite all the heavy topics and the trickiness of Lizette. But I feel comfortable with Edward and Larry, like the three of us are old friends. I find myself wondering if Larry really believes Miriam will wake up, but then I think about how she moved. They all believe she might be fine. I’m the only one who knows the truth.

Since The Accident, during the few times I have forced myself to socialise, I have usually found myself wishing away the hours and longing to leave. But today ends before I am ready, and suddenly everyone is saying goodbye and hugging and promising to stay in touch.

‘I’m not the sort of person who makes empty promises,’ Lizette assures me as she takes my number.

Larry says goodbye to me last.

‘It’s been really lovely meeting you,’ I say, and he looks so uncomfortable that I wonder if I have misread him completely and he doesn’t like me at all.

But then he speaks. ‘I know you’re married and all,’ he says. ‘But would you, maybe, like to have dinner sometime?’

‘That would be lovely,’ I say. ‘I’d really enjoy that.’

I can’t believe how I have suddenly started making friends, and that it feels so good. I wonder what Mike will think.

It’s only when I’m driving that I think about Larry’s wording more carefully. If he was asking me to dinner as a friend, why would he mention that I’m married?

Oh God, I think. Have I just agreed to go on a date?

I start to smile, and I am still smiling when I drive past an accident scene. I can’t stand accident scenes. I’ve been known to actually stop and vomit after driving past one. And this one is bad – there are two cars, and both are completely destroyed. There is glass and metal all over the road, and as the emergency services slow cars down and wave us round, I see a body bag on the road. I wait for the usual feelings of horror and revulsion and fear. But they don’t come. And within a few minutes I’m smiling again, thinking about my day.

I don’t like to say it. I don’t like to even think it. But my last thought as I fall asleep is that maybe I’m finally getting better.

Maybe I’ve done what all those books and friends