“She’s good,” Dad remarks, eyebrows raised as if I ought to know the truth.
“She’s good.Yes,” I agree, trying not to sound irritated.
“She’s good foryou,” Mum says.“Always has been.What’s it been like working with her again?”
I picture her climbing into the car a few hours ago, her red hair blowing in the wind.I wonder if I should just fucking call her.Maybe take her out one night while we’re home.I imagine taking her on a date to a little English pub.I smile a little too wistfully and Mum catches it.
“Oh,” she says, eyes wide.“So, it’s going well?”
I feel a sting of embarrassment and shake my head wildly.“There are a lot of problems.Not with Chloe.With me.”
My mum’s face drops.Sympathy is radiating off her, and I really don’t want to hear anything aboutthatright now.
“Have you heard from him yet?”she asks gently.
“Don’t push him,” says Dad.“Stavros will call when he’s ready.”
“Darren!” Mum shoots back.
“Wow, that took, like, five minutes,” I say, checking my watch dramatically.
I just knew she would bring up Stavros and the accident.She can’t bloody help herself.How is it that mums know exactly where to jab you to get a reaction?
“You know what?I’m super jet-lagged.”
“Honey, I only care about you,” Mum says, reaching across the counter and gently holding my hand by the wrist as though I might try to escape.“Archie says you’re getting better.That you’re not thinking of retiring anymore.”
“I am a little better,” I say, nodding slowly.And then I sigh, dropping my head to my hands.“And yes.I do need to see Stavros.Chloe is on me about it too.”
I catch Dad looking at Mum, and Mum giving him an I-told-you-so look, with a raise of her eyebrows.
“You’ve always avoided emotionally difficult things,” says Mum.
I bank that little insight to share with my therapist.
“Not everything needs to be discussed endlessly,” my dad counters, sighing heavily.“Another problem with today.Everyone is so self-absorbed.Better to get on with things rather than rake over them endlessly.”
I bank that one for the therapist too.
“It’s never as bad as you think it’s going to be,” she continues, ignoring my dad.“Stavros will forgive you, darling.You’re best friends.”
I nod, turning my tea around in my hands.And then I try to fight off a yawn.
“I’m going to go...”I thumb toward the upstairs.
“Take a shower,” Mum says.“You just shut down, baby.Put your feet up.Dinner is at six.”
“Six o’clock?”
“Yes, we’re over sixty now,” my dad mutters.
“We eat at six and fall asleep watchingEastEnders,” Mum agrees.
After my shower, I dry myself down and put on a fresh tracksuit and hoodie.I pull back the curtains in my room, which is also technically still shared with Archie when he visits too.At least Mum finally upgraded from bunk beds to two singles.
I can smell the roast chicken wafting up through the floorboards.I pull up the sash window, let the breeze blow in, and kick back onto my bed, when I hear a buzz from my phone.
And there it is.A message from Chloe.Even with the awkward way we left things, I still wish more than anything she was here with me now.
