I take a seat at the table as she bustles around making tea.Tea.I check the time on my phone. It’s five p.m. By this time, she’d usually be half a bottle deep. Something is definitely off. When she clocks me at the table, she sighs, then—reluctantly, I think—sits opposite.
“Was there something you wanted?” she asks. There’s something off about her voice, too. It’s too high, the question coming out too fast to be convincing. It feels performative, like she knows how she would usually act toward me, but for some reason she can’t emulate her usual demeanor.
“No. Do I need a reason to want to spend time with my own mother?”
Her expression says that I very much do. We lapse into silence. I watch as she hunches over the table, scratching at something on the linoleum. It must be a man. I can’t think of another reason for such a sudden shift in her. If I could find out who, it would balance the scalesbetween us even further—give me more leverage, more time to find alternative accommodation. Because the truth is, my information on Dad is running thin on the ground.
“Is he nice?”
I ask it so casually I could be inquiring about the weather, but her hand stills on the table. I can’t see what she’s scratching at. She’s got her other hand cupped round it, like a child trying to prevent another from copying her work.
“Who?” There’s a definite quiver to her voice now. Sensing weakness, sensingblood, I lean forward.
“The man you’re seeing.”
“What man?” Her eyes dart to the left, and a flush travels up her neck.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed, Mum. You’re out a lot these days. I’m glad for you. It’s important you don’t sit here, wasting away, surrounded by Dad’s things.”
“You’ve been in my room.” Not a question, a statement. Her jaw juts defiantly, just like Marcie’s used to.
“No more than you’ve been in mine.” I wonder if she’s noticed the bracelet is missing. I put it where it belongs, in among the box of Freddie’s things.
“I haven’t. Been seeing anyone,” she says, but I don’t believe her. “I made avow.”
God, this persistent allegiance to Dad is boring. “A vow he broke the minute he left us. In sickness and in health, doesn’t it go? I’d hardly say either of us was healthy.”
“Don’t talk about that time. Please.” She swallows weakly. “I’m not like you,” she says quietly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you’ve been going out just as much—more, even—than I have. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve been going to work?” I cock my head, keep my tone light. As though I have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about.
“I didn’t think cafés were open that late.”
“I’ve been seeing a friend.”
“A male friend?”
“Does it matter?”
“Well, given your partner died six months ago, I’d say yes, it does.”
“I don’t think Freddie would have wanted me to be single forever, Mum. Not all of us go into self-imposed exile after a breakup.”
“All I’m saying is it can’t have been that serious if you’re already considering someone new.”
This is exactly the sort of poisonous comment that has eroded our relationship. The sort of thing that leaves a bad taste in my mouth, that sends anger zipping through my veins. She has no idea how serious Freddie and I were. Serious enough that he bought a ring and buried it, right at the bottom of his sock drawer. I stumbled upon it by accident when Freddie was out one evening. When I saw that little box, my heart leaped. I couldn’t help myself: I opened it. A beautiful diamond set into a simple silver band. Not quite the right fit, but close enough.
I want to tell her about it,provehow serious we were, but Mum’s not finished yet. “You always were fickle,” she says, and there’s a horrible, weary resignation in it.
“Meaningwhat?” If I was thinking straight, I’d do something to steer us off this path I’ve sent us down, but I’m not. We spend so long avoiding the past, and I want her to say it. To finally tell me what she really thinks.
But Mum only gathers herself and stays quiet, sipping at her tea with a dignity I’d thought had long deserted her.
“Shall I get you a drink?” The question drips with sarcasm, but she doesn’t rise.
