The Sugar Men Read online

  ‘Did you call a doctor?’

  ‘I don’t mean physically,’ Judy answered, struggling in her mind to work out how to categorize it.

  ‘Has she been . . . ?’ He lifted up his glass of wine rather than say the word.

  ‘Drinking?’ Judy asked, feeling puzzled at the suggestion. ‘What makes you think—?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Forget I said that. Just tell me what’s happened.’

  ‘She’s . . . she’s acting strange.’

  ‘I noticed she’s starting to hoard food again.’

  ‘It’s more than that this time,’ Judy said. ‘She’s getting delirious, imagining things.’

  David shrugged. ‘Is it the drugs she’s on?’

  ‘She isn’t on any drugs,’ Judy said, her face dropping a little. ‘There’s no point, and you should know that.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry.’ David peered up at the back of the house, squinting to see their mother through the window. ‘Well, perhaps it’s nothing to do with her illness; she is getting old.’

  ‘Don’t say that, David. We both know her mind’s like it always has been – sharp as a brand-new pin.’

  ‘A cut-throat razor more like,’ he mumbled, placing his glass down on the table. He paused for a second, then set off for the house, leaving Judy hurrying to keep up. ‘So what’s she saying, exactly?’

  Judy grabbed his arm and said, ‘She’s saying today isn’t her birthday.’

  David halted. ‘What?’ He shook his head a few times. ‘Jeez, trust her to spring a stunt like that on us today of all days.’

  They both started striding again towards the house.

  ‘You think it could be because she knows it’s her last one?’ Judy asked.

  ‘We don’t know that for sure.’

  ‘Come on, David. You heard what the oncologist said as well as I did.’

  The words caused David to stutter his gait for a second and part his lips, but his sister’s assertion went unchallenged, and he started off towards the house even faster.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Judy was almost jogging to keep up with David as he strode through the back door, only then deadening his pace and ambling with an exaggerated air of nonchalance into the room that overlooked the back lawn.

  He smiled at his mother, then stood next to her chair and jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, while Judy knelt down next to her.

  ‘Feeling any better?’ Judy said.

  ‘I’ve had a tiring day,’ Susannah replied, still gazing ahead.

  ‘What are you looking at?’ David asked.

  ‘My feathered friends,’ she said. ‘They help me relax, get things into some sort of perspective.’

  David and Judy looked out too for a moment, at the birds that hopped to and from the feeding station in spite of the people gathered below. Then David asked his mother whether she was feeling dizzy or weak, whether she was tired after meeting all her friends in one busy day, and whether she wanted to go for a lie down.

  ‘You made me so happy when you got married,’ was the reply.

  David’s face froze. He glanced at Judy for a moment, then looked to his mother. ‘What?’

  ‘You left it a bit late in life, of course. Your father and I thought you were never going to settle down and give us any grandchildren.’

  ‘Well . . . you’re welcome.’ He drew breath as if to give notice of important words to come.

  ‘Of course,’ Susannah said, ‘more would have been nice.’

  ‘Mom. Listen to me.’

  Still she stared straight ahead. ‘Only one child, not even average.’

  David bent down to get a closer look at her face. ‘Are you sure you’re okay, Mom?’

  Now she pointed her sagging jowls to him. ‘I have cancer. Does that count as okay?’

  Then Judy moved to be in front of her too. ‘Mom. I told David what you said earlier, about today not being . . .’

  ‘It makes no difference,’ she said. ‘I’ve done a lot of thinking since I saw the medical man.’

  ‘The oncologist.’

  ‘Yes. The medical man.’ She lightly slapped the cloth armrest of her chair. ‘And I’m as sure of it as I am of anything.’ She spoke the next words slowly and carefully, like a politician’s slogan: ‘Today isn’t my birthday.’

  For a few moments the only sounds were of children playing outside and the slight whistle of Susannah’s chest sucking air in and out past her cracked lips.

  ‘What . . . what does that mean?’ David eventually said.

  Her shrunken shoulders gave a twitch. ‘You don’t understand English, now?’

  He took his glasses off and pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry, son,’ she said. ‘I’m teasing you. Habit of a lifetime.’

  ‘Why are you saying that?’ David said.

  She struggled to find the words, needing three attempts to start her sentence.

  ‘I . . . I say it because it’s the truth. I’m not eighty for another few weeks yet. I’ve always known this isn’t my birthday. I just . . . I just seem to have forgotten exactly why.’

  ‘The oncologist said you might be getting delusions,’ David said.

  Susannah shook her head and gave him a pitying look. ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Okay, so he didn’t. But . . . today’s your birthday, Mom.’ He tried an encouraging laugh and added, ‘It always has been.’

  ‘You remember,’ Judy said. ‘You remember why you were called “The Lucky One”?’

  A reflective smile drew itself on Susannah’s face. ‘How could I forget? More importantly, how could we forget? April fifteenth. It’s a special date for me, for sure. But my birthday?’ She gave an upturned smile and shook her head slowly.

  At that moment Alex, David’s young son, trotted in from the back yard carrying a football. As soon as he saw the three of them, his ruddy, playful face dropped half an inch. ‘What’s wrong, Dad?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing at all, buddy,’ David said. ‘You okay?’

  Alex bounced his knuckles on the ball. ‘Thought we could . . . play soccer?’ The words were spoken in a downbeat manner, as if a rejection were a foregone conclusion.

  ‘One minute,’ David said, ushering his son back out with a stroke of his hand.

  Half of that ‘one minute’ was wasted in silence.

  Eventually Judy spoke. ‘We can talk about this later, Mom. It’s not important. What’s important is that you enjoy your day, birthday or not.’

  David nodded and edged towards the door. Judy followed.

  Then Susannah turned her face towards her children once more. ‘Oh, and there’s one more thing you need to know.’

  David and Judy glanced at one another out of the corners of their eyes before looking back to their mother.

  ‘What’s that?’ Judy said, trying to stop the waver in her voice.

  ‘Well, last night I had a dream – one I haven’t had in a long time.’

  David nodded slowly and said, ‘Oh–kay.’

  ‘But this time it was different.’

  Judy and David glanced at each other again. David simply shrugged.

  ‘This time it left me asking myself questions.’

  ‘You’re not making sense,’ Judy said.

  ‘Oh, I’m making perfect sense, dear. Like I said, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I’ve made up my mind. I’m going on a vacation.’

  ‘What?’ David said, with a short explosion of laughter. ‘No, you’re not.’

  ‘I’m going to Hamburg.’

  David shook his head, folded his arms, then unfolded them, and gazed nowhere in particular.

  ‘Hamburg?’ Judy said. ‘But I don’t understand. Why?’

  Before she could answer David waded in. ‘Mom, you’re being stupid. You don’t need to do this; if you need somewhere peaceful to spend your—’

  ‘My final days?’

  ‘Please. Mom. If you need some time someplace else, I can drive yo
u there. Somewhere more peaceful. How ’bout that?’

  ‘And if I say no, you ask me again and again until I agree?’

  ‘But you shouldn’t fly, not with . . .’

  ‘Not with cancer?’

  David groaned and shook his head.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t joke about it, Mom,’ Judy said.

  ‘Who’s joking? If I said, “I’m not flying with cancer – I’m flying with United Airlines.” Now that’s a joke.’

  David drew rigid fingers through his thinning hair. ‘Judy’s right, Mom. Please don’t say things like that.’

  ‘So tell me, if I can’t joke now, when can I?’

  ‘And stop trying to change the subject. You’re not making sense. Why do you want to go to Hamburg?’

  ‘And who are you going with?’ Judy added.

  ‘Nobody. And that’s out of choice. I need to go on my own.’

  ‘No, Mom. I’ll come with you, David too. I can get time off work and I’m sure David can leave his business at arm’s length for a while.’

  David hesitated before nodding. ‘Sure, of course. But you have to tell us why. Why do you want to go there?’

  Susannah held up the palm of her hand. ‘I know you mean well, but your father wouldn’t have been interrogated by his own children and neither will I.’ She sliced the air with the edge of her hand. ‘I am going, I’m going on my own, and that’s an end to it.’

  Judy turned to David. ‘Hamburg? Isn’t that near . . . ?’

  He shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me; you’re the geography major. I know it’s in Germany but—’ And then his face dropped. ‘Oh, no. Please, God, no.’

  ‘I don’t expect you to understand my reasons,’ Susannah said. ‘I do expect you to respect my wishes.’

  David’s knees cracked as he knelt down next to her. ‘Please, Mother. You should be spending time with your family. You haven’t got long, six months if you’re lucky.’

  ‘But you forget, David. I am lucky, I always have been.’

  Judy could feel her breaths, heavy with fear, and stifled the tears that were screaming to escape. ‘And don’t you remember why?’ she said. ‘You’ve been called “The Lucky One” ever since you escaped from that goddam place. Why do you . . . ? I mean . . . there must be something wrong with you to even . . . to want to go within a thousand miles of that hellhole.’ She shook her head and turned away. ‘David, tell her.’

  David opened his mouth, but only air came out.

  ‘Judy. David. Listen. I know I moan and beef at you both, and you both know I don’t mean it and I love you more than I love myself. A mother couldn’t have wished for better children than you two. You’re only trying to look after me, I know that. You’re so good to me when we all know I’m no longer much use to anyone.’ Then the wrinkles across her face seemed to stiffen. ‘But please. This is one thing I must do for myself. I have to go there. And I am going to do this, with or without your blessing.’

  ‘But why?’ Judy said, now having to wipe away a stray tear. ‘If you could just tell us, we might understand.’

  But Susannah simply held on to her stern expression, and for a few seconds the room was filled with more of that uneasy silence.

  David went to speak, but stalled, then tried again. ‘Mom. If that’s what you really want, then I’m sure we could work something out.’ He glanced at his sister. ‘But don’t you think Judy has a point? Why the fascination with that place? It’s morbid.’

  ‘You expect me to explain it? The whole thing? Here? Now?’ She started to shake her head in dismay, then stopped and leaned forward towards him. ‘No, wait. I can try. Do you remember that stupid football game you and your father used to talk so much about? The one he took you to for your sixteenth birthday?’

  David gave a thoughtful smile. ‘The Super Bowl.’

  ‘Yes. That stupid football game. And I used to say I never understood why it was such a big deal, didn’t I?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And you always frowned to me, put on your grown-up-man voice, and said, “Mom, you just had to be there.”’ Susannah’s eyebrows, faint and wispy, nudged themselves upwards for a second, and she settled back into her chair.

  David took a few steps sideways, back and forth, then stomped out of the room, mumbling, ‘I gotta go to the john’ as he left.

  ‘Men!’ Susannah said. ‘Is this what they mean when they talk about them having their brains in their pants?’

  ‘He’s concerned,’ Judy said. ‘We all are. You’re sick and getting worse.’

  Then Susannah looked at her daughter again and Judy got the impression she was looking straight through her rather than at her.

  ‘You call this ill?’ she said. ‘My dear, you have absolutely no idea, do you?’

  ‘So you really think you’re well enough to travel?’

  ‘Remember, Judy, there’s one heck of a lot of sitting around involved in travelling.’

  ‘I’m just thinking of the stress,’ Judy said. ‘And the planning, the paperwork, the—’

  ‘The excuses?’

  Judy stopped there. She was no match for her mother and they both knew it. And Judy also knew in the back of her mind that her mother was searching for something – something that, perhaps, Judy wanted her to find every bit as much.

  ‘You never were quite as headstrong and stubborn as your brother,’ Susannah said. ‘You always took after your father more, a little more understanding and thoughtful, always willing to view things through others’ eyes.’ She suddenly reached forward and grabbed her daughter’s hand. ‘That’s a good thing, Judy. It’s a good thing. And I know David has that quality too, he just has a side salad of pig-headedness with it.’

  Then David returned. He looked at Judy, then turned back to his mother. ‘I’ve decided,’ he said.

  Susannah laughed. ‘No, you haven’t, David. I’ve decided.’

  ‘Whatever,’ he said. ‘If that’s really what you want, then that’s what’ll happen. Just promise you’ll ring one of us every day?’

  ‘I promise. You can have it in writing if you want.’

  They both looked to Judy. She couldn’t think straight for a moment; all she could do was examine her fingernails. ‘Okay,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘If you really, really have to, I guess.’

  ‘I do,’ Susannah replied. ‘I need to know certain things, and I . . . I must see what death looks like before I meet it.’

  David shrugged, then held his mother’s hand. ‘I don’t understand what that means, but I do know that tomorrow I’m going to book you on a first-class flight and into the best hotel in Hamburg.’

  And that was how it all started – the trip to Europe and everything that followed; with Judy’s mother insisting that the day on which they had always celebrated her birthday wasn’t really her birthday at all, and with neither David nor Judy having a clue what she was talking about.

  Judy picked up the tray of milk and cookies and went upstairs.

  In their mother’s bedroom David had already made a flat area on the bed for the tray and all three of them settled down, Judy and David in the armchairs either side of their mother.

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ David said, as they each took a cookie.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Susannah said. ‘Every bit as much as I was about going to Europe in the first place.’ She took a tiny sip of milk. ‘Especially with something to wet my throat.’

  ‘I was just thinking about your party earlier this year,’ Judy said. ‘When you told us it wasn’t your birthday.’

  ‘And I guess that’s as good a place as any to start.’ Susannah’s yellowing teeth broke off a chunk of cookie. ‘If you remember, that was when David kindly gave me permission to go.’

  David smiled wryly but said nothing.

  Then, as they all ate and drank, Susannah began to tell her story.

  The person lying in bed in front of Judy was the Susannah that had been her mother for forty-nine years. But the more she listene
d, the more she realized there was also a Susannah she hardly knew at all.

  PART TWO

  The Flight and the Fleeing

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It turned out to be a whole five weeks after Susannah’s birthday-that-wasn’t that she flew out to Hamburg. And they were difficult weeks, during which David and Judy knew better than to try to talk their mother out of it again, but at the same time they made it clear they would rather she didn’t go. This entailed asking her in depth about what the physician had recommended – which meant quizzing her on things they already knew. According to Susannah she had the all-clear to live a relatively normal life in the short term, as long as she didn’t exert herself, so she told her children that while she was in Germany she would try her utmost to go easy on the booze, the drugs, the all-night raves and the sex – well, just for a few days.

  Judy took her to Wilmington airport and stayed with her until she was called to the departure lounge. During that time Judy twice went through a checklist of items her mother should have packed, and three times told her to ring either her or David each day. And four times Susannah told her daughter not to fuss so much, that she wasn’t an invalid, that she could look after herself, and that it wasn’t her brain that was diseased.

  It was only when Susannah was called to the departure lounge that a little of her self-confidence dissolved and her speech started to waver. And when Judy told her yet again to be sure to ring home every day and grabbed her for a final hug, she knew it showed. She was now unsure for the first time whether she really was doing the right thing, and held onto her daughter for what seemed like half the flight time. Then the flight was called again and she drew back, holding onto Judy’s hands for a while longer, examining her frame and features as if it were the last time she would ever see her. She knew that was a real possibility.

  She nodded farewell to Judy, keeping tight-lipped so as not to show again that fear in her voice, but giving her daughter one last hug – a gentle understated one this time – before turning and leaving for the departure lounge.

  Susannah settled herself onto her seat and smiled politely at her neighbours, which led to them striking up a conversation.