What if Eddie never leaves home? If Frank and I are never empty-nesters? Could turning fifty count as the start of my second act?
Think of it as a thrilling new chapter,the author urges.How do you want it to look?
I have absolutely no idea – although after Eddie storming upstairs last night, I know how Idon’twant it to look.
With my fully-grown, size-eleven-footed son flinging my ‘helpful’ suggestions back into my face.
With me picking up his sweet wrappers and damp, stinky towels and mouldering takeaway cartons.
With me picking up anything at all! Or doing any of that shit!
Or feeling in any way responsible for the fact that Eddie wants to do nothing with his life!
Or letting my ‘second act’ slide by without having adventures!
What kind of adventures do I want? Fun ones, with Frank, if he’s up for it. Why don’t we do fun stuff anymore? Why do we justtrundleon?
My birthday’s nine months away, I figure as I switch on my computer at the main desk. So what am I waiting for really? For Eddie to miraculously figure out what he wants to do with his life?
The front door opens and my friend Prish appears, armed with a transparent tub of home-made cakes, swiftly followed by Jamie and Marilyn. There are hugs and criesof ‘Happy New Year!’ and the cakes are cooed over and devoured. There’s no occasion Prish won’t bake for: our last library day before the holidays, and our first day back, plus everyone’s birthdays. Over the Christmas break, when she could peel herself away from her huge family – four grown-up kids and seven grandkids, all descending on her for the holidays – she brought home-made brownies for our blowy beach walks. Now the rest of us catch up on each other’s news, delighted to all be together again.
‘I’msorelieved to be back at work,’ announces Jamie, and I know he really means it, as his home life is complicated.
‘How did it go?’ I hand him a mug of coffee.
‘Oh, the usual story. Lewis went to his parents and I went to mine.’ A shrug and a wry smile. ‘But what about you, Carly? All the gang home?’
‘Yeah, it was lovely,’ I say. ‘But the girls left the day after Boxing Day. Desperate to get away from us,’ I joke.
‘That’s how it’s meant to be,’ Prish remarks. ‘That’s our job, to set them up for leaving us and breaking our hearts.’
‘Hey, I’ve still got one at home, remember?’ I smile.
‘Not for much longer, I bet.’
‘Well, let’s see.’ Having dropped a coin into the honesty box, I’ve stashedThe Empty-Nester Handbookinto my bag. Soon, our first lenders arrive, and weak winter sunshine ekes through the stained-glass windows.
I’m still not sure how I want my second act to look, as our beautiful library flickers back into life. But somehow, I’ll figure it out. After all, a lot can happen in nine months.
Chapter Three
On the walk home I vow to myself not to react if Eddie behaves like he did yesterday.Don’t rise to it,I tell myself. However, as soon as I step into the house, it’s apparent that something is different. Eddie isn’t lying on the sofa or shut away in his room. No, my son is upright – devoid of hooded robe and actually in motion! Most bizarrely of all, Eddie issmilingas he bounds into the hallway to greet me.
Greeting me, as if I am an actual human, with feelings!
‘Hey, Mum,’ he says brightly.
I gawp at him. Has he broken something? Is this cheery display a way of buttering me up before imparting bad news?
‘Hey, love,’ I say, hanging my jacket on the hook. I’m naive enough to expect an apology over yesterday’s shitty behaviour. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Great, yeah. I’ll just put the kettle on, shall I?’ And off he goes.
Suspicion rears up in me as I follow him through to thekitchen. Normally, he opens the fridge and glares into it, announcing, ‘There’s nothing to eat.’ But not today. Today it’s as if another, extremely pleasant person – who looksexactlylike my son – has taken his place.
Has the real Eddie been abducted by aliens?
‘Here you go, Mum.’ My body fizzles with tension as he hands me tea in my favourite pale pink china cup. What’s going on?
