“I wish we didn’t have to go this wretched christening today. We don’t even know the baby and we’ll never see any of them again once they go back to the States” said Hilary. It was Sunday morning after a fun dinner party and they were both exhausted from the inevitable bad night’s sleep that follows such over indulgence. Michael was equally cross about having to attend another one of the dreaded Knight family gatherings and on these occasions, he found his resentment and anger surface, feelings he usually managed to keep well under control.
As an only child, he felt trapped and obliged to attend family occasions and because of this pressure, he tended to project his frustration at Hilary, so she would end up feeling guilty. The Knight occasions were always so predictable and tedious. Another classic opportunity to portray the perfect extended family when in reality Michael’s relatives were such a bunch of odd balls and probably more dysfunctional than most. But the illusion and denial had to continue and every effort would be taken to appear perfect in public. It was impossible for him to consider cancelling or being late as his mother would be devastated. She relied on his attendance, doted on him and unconsciously needed him to support and love her, not just as a wonderful son, but as the strong, masculine, protective figure in her life. It was rather a pathetic sight but on such occasions, Michael’s father was demoted to number three in the family while Michael himself was elevated in importance and held on high as the prized son and heir. Disowned pain causing imbalance everywhere as in so many families. No, it was impossible to consider cancelling or being late and Hilary would have been the first to acknowledge this, since her background of dutiful compliance and people pleasing was exactly the same. So, reluctantly they left their friends’ house on the outskirts of Barnstaple, having enjoyed a classic Sunday morning brunch together with the statutory browse through the Sunday papers, tabloids and all. Michael was tense and short tempered, not least because, with such a hangover, he didn’t relish the drive and the prospect of what lay ahead at the church. Hilary was always anxious and uneasy at times like this, as she feared conflict and found his cold and withholding manner so rejecting and difficult. The BMW shot down the road, route carefully planned as ever, but with little time to spare for other inconsiderate road users or unforeseen problems. Left at the roundabout with a view to short-cutting the moors and they met their first inevitable traffic jam. A lorry blocking the narrow Devon lane and no way through. Michael opened the window to ask an elderly gentleman if he knew the problem and despite his kindness, without so much as a thank-you, he shot the car into a screeching reverse, back up the hill, almost severing the old man’s arm in the electric window. “What the hell do you think you are doing” Hilary yelled, “that old guy was helping you and you nearly ripped his arm off for Christ’s sake!” Michael was fuming and as usual was over sensitive to any criticism, however justified, such that he adopted his usual cold and silencing behaviour to make it clear that he was cross with Hilary too. She hated these occasions. Not only did they both not want to go to the dull christening, but here they were, locked into a road rage situation, barely speaking and at loggerheads because of a simple hold up. “Please don’t drive like a maniac. It’s better to be late than risk driving so fast and you know I hate it” Hilary said. “We don’t have any choice, since the route we have to take now, will be much longer and we’ll most likely be late anyway” Michael curtly replied, ignoring the point she was really making. That was it then. Cold, withholding, silence. Hilary felt the icy atmosphere between them and wondered how they had moved so quickly from their cosy, loving space only an hour or so earlier. She never understood how her normally easy-going and placid husband turned into this angry demon as if he was possessed, just from attending a family event and the journey leading up to it. Her issue with conflict and authority figures meant she would freeze, stop breathing or chest breathe and just play the victim, people pleasing until the drama passed. But today she was aware she was cross and resentful towards Michael for his unacceptable behaviour, especially since she was being the supportive daughter-in-law as ever. The christening was not her choice and Michael had ruined her weekend by his aggressive and domineering attitude. She would never have dreamt of treating someone the way he did and yet at another level she expected it , was used to being the martyr and not standing up for herself which was a legacy from her own childhood with controlling and invasive parents. Worse than this, Hilary had woken this morning with another painful neck, something she regularly suffered from and unbeknown to her was the precursor to tearing her neck ligaments the year later. She had no idea at this stage that her neck problems reflected her inability to express herself and that these early symptoms were a warning that she needed to communicate her needs more assertively. So she was tired and in pain physically and although she had desperately tried to ignore the signals, was also aware of an increasingly desperate urge to go to the toilet. “I’ll need to go to the loo before we get to the church” she said apologetically, conscious that this simple request would cause Michael further anxiety on the timing front. “There’s no time to stop and no loos anywhere in sight. You’ll have to go in the church when we get there” he replied with no empathy whatsoever “You don’t understand” she pleaded, “I can’t wait any longer and I’m not sure that there are loos in the church anyway or that if there were, I would last that long”. Aware he had no choice, Michael grudgingly swerved into the roadside and screeched to a grinding halt. He made it clear that Hilary was to move fast and use the adjacent field, having no compassion for the fact she was not male like him and would undoubtedly prefer much more privacy. Lost in the agenda of being the good girl, Hilary dashed out of the car and ran to the nearest appropriate spot in the field, her mind focusing on the fact that she only just made it. The relief was so great and gave her such a sense of freedom and relaxation that she recalled how it was one of the best feelings ever. All the pent up feelings from the nightmarish journey went with the release. On a scale of 1-10 it ranked 10 for the sense of bliss and in this moment, she forgot to notice the opposing sensation of being stung by the bed of nettles she had the misfortune to crouch down in. She couldn’t stop mid flow, it was too forceful and equally too wonderful, so she had no choice but to accept the duality of feelings and realise the miserable fact that she was also stinging in agony from her knees up to her buttocks. Until she finished, she was not aware of just how badly she had been stung but as she ran back to the car, the horrendous burning sensation almost made her pass out. Still, she was focusing on doing the right thing and how much trouble she might be in for delaying their journey further. Michael was so driven and compulsively focusing on being the perfect son, suppressing his true feelings that he could not stand back and see things clearly. The incident for Hilary, just reflected her whole life. She had always been taught that her body was a handicap and that basic things such as resting, eating and other bodily functions simply got in the way of being a superwoman and slowed down the whole process of life which to her was about pleasing others and constant achievements. Once again, her basic need had caused so much problem it seemed. A final dash round a few more country lanes and they arrived at the church with five minutes to go. Perfect timing. They both sighed from the self-inflicted and unnecessary drama they had created. Hilary stepped out of the car, adjusted her tailored trouser suit, praying there were no unsightly spray or nettle marks showing and prepared her persona as the perfect daughter-in-law. As she walked forward, she was conscious how much pain she was in, not just from her neck which made her crook her head at an angle but from the nettle stings which were excruciatingly painful and made her walk as if she was clutching an orange between her buttocks in a kid’s party game. She stopped dead in her tracks, paralysed by what she heard. Her mouth dropped open and she was speechless when she overheard Michael’s mother say, “Oh, darling, you’re an hour early. Did you get the time wrong? You do know the christening doesn’t start until 2.0pm don’t you?……..
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