Gemini Rain (3 page)

But before Joel could respond the larger than life Veronique, the local mid-wife and five months pregnant herself bounds into the room. ‘It’s a boy Monsieur Corvasieur and you,’ the well built, tall woman smiled down to Joel as he held his hand carved soldiers tightly to his chest, ‘you now have
a little brother to play with’ clapping her hands together, ‘m
y sincerest congratulations to you both,’ Veronique’s pride was as tall as she because yet another successful delivery was secured under her belt. ‘Mother and baby will be ready for visiting in a few minutes.’

Retracing her steps Veroniq
ue returned to the
bedroom and Jean-Pierre smiled
at Joel as he leaned
forward in the chair, ‘Now I must make two sets of toys and work double time on the farm. What shall we call him?’ Although David was already
picked he still wanted
to
include Joel in everything and
decided to ask anyhow,
‘
if he chooses something we’ll simply use it as our new son’s middle name
’
he informed Gabrielle earlier in the pregnancy.

‘Maman will decide,’ Joel happily responded now knowing
his mother’s horrible cries were
finished.

‘Good idea,’
Jena-Pierre winks as he
clean
ed out his
pipe.  Waiting a few mo
r
e minutes before rising from his rocking
chair and walk
ing
towards the bedroom door, gently
he knocked
then
turn
ed
back to Joel, ‘Are you ready to meet your new
brother? Come on, let’s go in.’

It’s
March
201
1
and in Dublin the young baby girl born previously is now a grown woman - Lauren Maguire Connolly. Curled up in her bed she is listening to hushed voices outside her bedroom door, w
ishing she were still asleep Lauren
keeps her eyes closed tightly. 
Not that she got much sleep, the last time Lauren squinted at the clock it said 4.20am but as per usual when she did eventually drift into the arms of Morpheus the alarm clock sounded in what seemed like a time frame of two seconds, now it was 8am with her dread becoming a reality needing to be endured no matter what.

             
‘What is she going to do now?’ the voice outside whispers.
Lauren recognised the voice as her dad’s hushed tone.

‘Shh, she’s probably awake we’ll talk later,’ the other voice
softly
responds. Lauren hears a gentle knock, ‘Lauren, Lauren it’s time love are you awake?’

‘
Debbie, I knew it would be Debbie
,’
Lauren sighed to herself. 
Go away!
She
wants to scream but her voice only croaks when answering, ‘Yeah, I’m going to have a shower, I’ll be out in a few minutes then I’ll get
Emma
and Keith ready.’

‘Don’t worry about them we’re seeing to them now,’ the woman’s naturally optimistic, reassuringly soft voice fades away from the bedroom door as she speaks.

Rising from the bed and looking in the dresser mirror Lauren lightly asks her reflection the same question, ‘And what are you going to do now?’ Staring at the image that confronts her despondently she covers her face with her hands rubbing her
eyes, thirty-eight
years old but
f
eeling her
age reversed and she was eighty
-three
. Looking back up at her reflection she protests, ‘I didn’t want to be a widow you know. Separated – yes, divorced perhaps when I got used to the separated bit,
but a widow – shite I’m only 38
!’ 

The mirror image was increasingly depressing her - it’s the same reflection every morning for the last three months.  Dark shadows encircling her eyes and that gaunt look was annoying
–
‘
okay so I have high cheekbones but they were always full and rosy never hollow like now.
’

‘It’ll take numerous amounts of teabags and cucumbers to get rid of those,’ she light-heartedly stated to
Emma
as her daughter watched her putting on make-up yesterday.
Emma
raised her eyebrows to question but Lauren got
in
there first, ‘it’s an old wives
tale, I’ll explain another time,
’
she answered softly. 
Normally she didn’t like
Emma
watching as she put on
her mask
as Lauren
liked to call it but now everything’s different she just accepted her daughter’s stares and questions sympathetically and with a patience Lauren never knew or couldn’t remember existing inside her before.

Glancing in the mirror once more, sighing at the fact that the image was in fact her o
wn and not a bad drawing of a witch
the kids pinned up as a practical joke she heads for the en-suite.
‘
Wake up it’s just a dream
’
scolding herself,
‘
you’re not even able to cry
for him
’
. But she did cry, the tears flowed once again like the water sprinkling on her body as she scrubbed herself harder, quicker.

Once
she
finished
with
the shower Lauren sat in front of the dresser mirror commencing with the chore of trying to look normal. Usually her eyes were a bright sky blue but now they look dull and bloodshot from lack of sleep, putting in her contact lenses and using some eye drops to try to brighten them she hoped the action would disguise what they really said. Remembering her medication for her high blood pressure (a little present she got from her line of work and her two pregnancies). ‘That’s weird,’ she shivered at the thought ‘usually Peter was the one to remember, always checking if I’ve taken them, now it’s a
s if…. No, that’s stupid Lauren,
’
she shook her head despondently.

Combing her dark brown
hair her mind travel
l
ed from the reality of the morning
to thinking how quickly her hair had grown,
slightly below
shoulder length now and so straight not even a small kink.  Lauren was slightly disappointed about that fact
–
‘
but then again if it had kinks or curls you’d probably want it straight Lauren
’
- often wondering why women never took advantage of their own natural looks always wanting something different. Luckily Lauren possessed the type of soft features and slight oval face that both long and short hair suits and now she doesn
’t know why that even as a teenager
she kept her hair short, extreme
ly short. With the lighter auburn glint
that usually a
ppeared in the summer now beginning to show again
it made her think about getting highlights
to add to the effect
.

‘Should I wear it up or leave it flowing?’ taking in a side view in the mirror.
Then realisation dawned and she shook her head,
‘Christ what am I thinking, it’s not a night out Lauren,’ quickly tying it up into a simple ponytail, a sharp contrast to the fashionable styles she usually chose.

Suddenly the
door bursts open with Lauren jum
ping at the loud bang as it hit off the wall, ‘that dent in the wall is getting deeper every time he does that,’ she cringed knowing exactly who her noisy intruder was.

‘Mammy! I’m not wearing this! Just…just look at what Auntie
Debbie
wants me to wear! Why can’t I wear my tracksuit?’ The young boy held out his arms to display the clothes he was wearing, his small expectant face blatantly expressing that his hard earned street-cred was about to be destroyed in one foul swoop of a knitting needle, ‘all the lads from school are going to be there.’

‘
Oh shite he’s in one of those moods
’
, Lauren stared at his reflection in the mirror then closed her eyes
–
‘
now keep calm girl
’
she reminded herself
.

‘Well good morning mister,’ she lightly replied turning around at the same time to face her son, ‘today is a very important day Keith you can’t wear a tracksuit, remember we’ve talked about this already.’ Looking at the hideous pattern cris-crossing her young son’s small chest she attempted
gentle
persuasion, ‘anyhow that’s a beautiful jumper and Auntie
Debbie
bought it
e
specially for you.’ The pattern was a bit
too much Lauren admitted to her
self, Lord some designers should be shot – sh
e glanced again at the pattern.
What other way have I to pe
rsuade an extremely stubborn five
-year-old but be straightforward, direct -yep it’s the only way, Lauren felt it was now her only option, she was about to attempt another explanation but she was stopped by a small hand
raised
.

‘Beautiful,’ he stated solemnly, this was not a word he wanted his clothes to be described
as
, in his world ‘beautiful’ was a word for g
irl’s pink dresses and the Groovy Girl
dolls his sister played with. ‘But Mammy!’ he cried his frustration beginning to overflow, ‘Wwwhy?’

‘No
buts
today mister and definitely no
whys
,’
Lauren
calmly interceding
,
surprised she was able to control her temper
which she usually lost by the time he started on the
why
moaning
, ‘
listen
I promise you can change into your favo
u
rite Man. U track suit later, okay?’

Keith, particularly in his stubborn moods reminded her so much of his dad, the small but cute round shape of his face, his big, soft brown eyes even his boyish wavy hair was slowly changing to Peter’s dark colouring. He didn’t contain one facial characteristic similar to her - his nose, maybe his nose is the same. Shite he’s going to be a constant reminder of what will never be
-
Lauren’s indecisiveness was creeping back into the picture. What am I going to do now? Feeling scared her eyes glazed over but were still fixed on Keith.

Keith knew by his mother’s gaze that he should
leave.  It was that look again
it was happening for a few days now
and her eyes
made him feel weird in his tummy
, he could understand she was talking to him he knew that for sure but she wasn’t looking at him. Well yeah she was looking at him but it was different to the normal way, was there something wrong with his face?
‘
Maybe I should check in the bathroom mirr
or,
’
thinking something horrible
was beginning to grow on his face that he didn’t notice the last time he looked – the horror!
‘
I’ll be one of the weirdoes in class, they’ll slag me for wearing this jumper
and
I’ll never be one of the
pickers for the football team!
’
 
Resisting the urge
to stay to argue the matter more he thought for a second,
‘
maybe I should’ve listened to
Emma
an’ just do as I’m told, just for today mind.
’

Looking up at Lauren w
ith his typical
under-the-eyebrows smirk
‘Ohh I suppose sooo,’
he drawled
out the words, ‘but just for you.’ Pointing his small index finger at her he attempted a wink, ‘and good morning to you too
Mammy
.’  With that light statement he ran out, s
lamming the door shut behind him
and
heading
straight for the bathroom mirror
to check up on this horrible growth that no-one was telling him about
.

‘
Christ that was easier than expected,
’
Lauren sat amazed still staring at the empty space where her young son originally stood,
‘
his moods change like the friggin’ clouds in the friggin’ sky!
’
She and Peter could rarely manage him only getting around the stubborn git with bribe
s, guiltily admitting
that neither gave the time to their children to actually sit down and talk things through with them. Buying toys and sweets to make up for lost time with them, her sister-in-law
Debbie
was employed to take care of
Emma
and Keith because of the long hours she and Peter put into their work.