Joy’s young, with the rest of her life ahead of her. She has the potential to really go places and make a decent career for herself. She ain’t gonna get that in this town with me.
I sink back in the chair and rub a hand over my face. I’ve made such a mess of everything. Sara’s words are like the final nail in the coffin. If it wasn’t for my son, I think I’d go home and drink myself into next year.
26
JOY
“Is that the last of it?” I ask Dad as he carries another box into my old bedroom, though his London pad never felt like home, not like the home we had in Hollyville when Mum was alive.
“Just a box left, pudding.” Dad drops a bag of clothes onto my single bed with a rainbow bedspread.
I flop onto the bed and stare at the suitcase in front of me. Dad thought it best to pack as much stuff as possible now I’m moving down here and taking the job at Chambre Rose Publishing.
It’s a great job. But I can’t seem to bring myself to smile about it. Any other time I would have been excited, optimistic and planning my future. Now all I do is dwell on the past.
I thought giving my first time to Nick, I’d feel fulfilled. A huff parts my lips. I did, for the time it lasted. But since that morning a few days ago, my heart’s running on empty.
“Cheer up, love. This is a fresh start for you. You should be happy.”
My muscle in my lip twitches as I try to give Dad a fake smile. “I am happy, Dad. Really. Thanks for showing up and bringing me home.”
My phone’s still broken. It won’t even charge or turn on now. I’ve had no motivation to get it fixed. Who am I going to call? I left Sara a note in the flat, telling her I’m going to stay with Dad indefinitely. She’ll probably give the flat up now and move in with her boyfriend permanently. She practically lived at his anyway.
“I should have wrung his bloody neck this morning.”
I lift my head. “You saw Nick this morning?”
Dad’s lips form a tight line, as if preventing him from saying more. “I called in the shop looking for you before I found you at the flat.”
“How was he?”
“Busy. I didn’t hang around.” Dad sits on the bed next to me. “I know it seems like the world is over right now. But you’ll meet someone else who’s right for you. Someone who can provide for you when I’m gone.”
“Dad, I don’t need a man to provide for me. I can do that myself.”
“You know what I mean. I just want to see you settled with someone who can take care of my little pudding. Your trust fund won’t last forever.” He kisses my forehead and stands to leave me to my pity party with all my old cuddly toys. They’ve seen me through some tough times. And here we are again. I cuddle my big gingerbread man, but it’s no use. Not even Mr Turbo could cheer me up right now.
* * *
“Nice to seeyou dressed and out of your room.” Dad holds his arm out and I give him a side hug before walking to the fridge.
“Sorry I’ve been quiet these last few days since I arrived. I’ve just had a lot to process.” Dad’s been great at giving me space, we’ve fell back into our usual routine. He’s busy with work and I’ve been happy to wallow in my room. It’s even starting to look more like it did when I was a teenager. Messy.
“Ruth’s coming over for dinner tonight, pudding,” Dad says as he cooks some gourmet meal, wanting to impress his girlfriend. She’s nice enough, I suppose, though not much older than me, at thirty.
I open the fridge for a drink while doing the math, then realise it’s not too different from the age gap between Nick and I. Air blows out between my lips. Why does everything have to remind me of him?
I take a bottle of sparkling water and sit at the large granite island on a leather bar stool. I open my laptop to check my emails and socials for the first time since my phone died a dramatic death. It’s been quite refreshing not having a phone this last week.
My MacBook goes crazy with notifications. Discord, Messenger, IG. All from Sara. Wow, she really needed to get in touch with me. Probably to tell me her boyfriend’s proposed or something.
Call me. I need to talk to you.
Bitch, you better call me.
Okay, I’m getting worried about you now. I thought you left for your dad’s, not Mars. Call me.
Girl. If you don’t answer my emails or messages. I’m gonna have to send you a telegram or something. Do they even do those still?
