Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (6 page)

“Mum, you don’t have to be brave on my account,” she says.  She’s not dim, my daughter.

“It was awful, Holly, I have to admit.  But I’ve got to somehow move on.  I can’t …”

“It’s such early days, Mum … you can’t expect to move on yet.  You were married for a lifetime.”

“I know … but he’s not coming back … I’ve got to accept that.”

“How do you know?  Maybe he’ll realise what an idiot he’s been … she’s so much younger than him, for a start … it must be a real shock for him, her having a young child … do you really think it’ll work?”

“I don’t know … maybe I don’t want him back.”

“Really?  Wouldn’t you forgive him if …”

“No, Holly, I’m not sure I can.  He’s broken my heart.  I know that sounds dramatic but … that’s how it feels.  I feel as if I’m being punished for something I didn’t do.”

“Oh Mum,” she says, putting her arm around my back and squeezing me hard.  “I wish I could say something to make it better, but I can’t … when I speak to Dad, he always asks about you, you know.
  Have you spoken to Mum?  Is Mum okay
?  I think he’s worried about you.”

“And so he should be …” I say, bitterly.  I really don’t want Holly to feel trapped in the middle of us, though.

I say, “Do you know what his plans are, at all?  Has he said anything to you about anything?”

I know … I’m fishing for information and yes, I’m using Holly like a go-between.  I must stop it, but …

“Well, I don’t think he likes living in a small flat, that’s for sure.  He mentioned in passing once, that Gemma’s room is tiny and she won’t be able to be in there much longer.”

“Oh God … he’ll want us to sell the house and split the money … why should I move?  I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“He didn’t say that to me, Mum … but I suppose … realistically … that may have to happen, one day.”

I know she’s right, but I can’t even bear to think about it, at the moment.  I say, “Does he sound happy, when you speak to him?”

“If I’m honest, no, not really.  He sounds wracked with guilt, apart from anything else.  It can’t be a good way to start a relationship.  Dad’s a good person really, Mum; he must really love her to put you through this.  And he’s decent enough to know he’s done a bad thing.  He wants me to go round there sometime soon and meet her … but you know what?  I don’t want to meet her … not yet, anyhow.  She’s come between you and Dad … and I hate her for it.”

“You’ll have to meet her sometime …”

“Maybe … but at the moment, I’d prefer to meet Dad on his own, on neutral territory.”

We walk back home, leave Gaz to his own devices and then I take her to our local pub for lunch.

I always notice men’s admiring glances, whenever I’m with Holly.  She’s totally unaware of them, of course, but I see their eyes follow her across a room.  It’s no different this day – there’s a group of guys at the bar, all about thirty, and when we walk in, they all look towards us.  Some of them try to hide their interest and go back to their pints, but two of them blatantly stare at Holly, who strides across the room, with confidence.  She goes up to the bar and says loudly, “What would you like, Mum?  A G and T?” 

I watch as the two lads try to look away and continue their conversation but, one of them in particular, looks at Holly again.  He is, I have to admit, extremely good-looking.  Tall, about 6’2”, dark-haired and dressed in jeans and a smart, expensive-looking leather jacket.  I’m convinced he’s going to talk to her.

I don’t want to cramp Holly’s style, so I grab my G and T and wander over to a table by the window, leaving her at the bar, while she waits for her drink and the menu card.

Once seated, I look over and they are, indeed, chatting.  I can’t hear what’s being said as the pub’s busy and Nat King Cole is singing loudly through some speakers, but I can see them both laughing.  I can see the chemistry fizzing.

I like this pub – there’s a good atmosphere, friendly staff and good value food.  In the winter, there’s usually a roaring log fire and Gaz is welcomed with dog biscuits and a water bowl.  I rather wish we’d bought him now, but he was muddy and I couldn’t be bothered to clean him.

I get my phone out – like everyone else these days, I use the mobile phone more as a distraction, than for making actual phone calls.  I’ve previously logged on to the pub’s wi-fi, so I check my emails to see if Adam has written.  Nothing.  No surprise there, then.

I go onto Facebook to while away some time, while Holly flirts at the bar.  I use an alias so my pupils don’t know who I am.  Being a teacher, I really don’t want my private life splattered all over social media.  All my friends and family know my ‘other’ name and it’s a way of keeping up to date with people – it always adds to my conviction, though, that everyone else is having a better life than me.  Status updates, ranging from
Wonderful evening with friends in fab restaurant!
to
Off to Bali for a month!
to
Wow! Look at the view from my mountaintop hotel!
with all the compulsory accompanying pictures of smiling, happy faces and brown bodies, adding to my conviction that I’ll never go anywhere exciting, ever again.

When I sent Adam a friend request, he came home that night and said, “Mum, what on earth’s possessed you?  Why would I want you as a ‘friend’?  How uncool would I look with my mother on my friend’s list?  No, the answer is definitely no – you can’t be my friend.  Is there nowhere I can be, without parental supervision?”

I let it go for a while, but when he was nearly off on his adventures to Oz, I asked again and after much soul-searching, he allowed it.  I expect he thought he wouldn’t be able to post drunken pictures of himself, but I persuaded him to accept me – I put a positive spin on it, by saying he wouldn’t have to send me any emails when he was in Oz, if I could just see what he was doing on Facebook.

I scroll down and – there he is – a selfie of him and Jake on a beach with the comment
Oz is Awesome!
He looks healthy and happy and the two of them seem remarkably sober.  Well, that’s a mother’s optimistic take on a perfectly innocent photo; we clutch at straws when our children are so far away.  The location information says Bondi Beach.  I stare at the picture, trying to glean any information I can from it.  I feel like a combination of a spy and a detective and kind of understand where he was coming from, when he objected.  When we were young, there were just long distance phone calls and letters; parents had to accept long silences.  Now, with the constant updates on Facebook, we expect to keep up to date, daily.

Should I comment on the post or not? 

I write
Looks Amazing!
and hope it’s completely neutral and non-judgemental.

Another comment pops up from someone I’ve never heard of. 

Cool Dude.  Didn’t know you were out here.  PM me and we’ll meet up.

I click on them – it’s some sexy-looking girl, who has very little on.  So, the stalking commences.  I now go from feeling happy he’s having fun, to worrying about predatory females, in the space of about five seconds.  The joys of smartphone technology.

At that moment, Holly wanders back and sits down.  “You look engrossed Mum.  What is it?”

I hand her my phone with the picture of Adam displayed.  “Hey, that’s cool.  Jakey looks as gorgeous as ever!  God, I wish he was a bit older … why do you look worried, Mum?”

“Because … some girl in a bikini has just asked to meet up with them …”

“Oh Mum – you are funny.  For a start, she probably doesn’t wear a bikini full-time, and secondly, what’s wrong with that?  It’s good that they’re making friends out there.  You’re going to have to get used to this, Mum.  As you’ve insisted on being his Facebook friend, you’ll see all sorts of things.”

“Yes, you’re right.  It’s awful being a Mum sometimes, though.  You have absolutely no control and all the angst.  Anyway, who was
he
at the bar?  You seemed to be getting on rather well?”

Holly looks surreptitiously over towards the bar and catches his eye – a sizzling smile burns back across the space.  She smiles and then deliberately turns towards me.   She lowers her voice and says, “Well, it turns out we went to school together – primary – but he was a few years ahead of me.  He claimed to recognise me, but I think that was just a line.  His name’s Jed and he’s just down for the weekend, like me.  Lives in London too.”  She looks bright and her eyes have a certain happiness about them.

“Are you going to meet up, in London?” I ask.

“Maybe,” she says, cagily.  “We found out that we work pretty near each other.”

“You seem to have found out an awful lot of information in a short space of time,” I say, leaning over and nudging her knowingly.  How lovely to be so young – life’s so easy – you see someone you like the look of, you flirt, you meet up for a drink and these days, the next step is probably, bed. 

How am I ever going to meet someone now, at my age?  The thought of taking my clothes off in front of someone, other than David, makes me feel sick.

“So, enough of me,” says Holly.  “Let’s order lunch and I want you to tell me what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.  There’s a big world out there, Mum, and now’s the time to go and find it.”

So, over roast pork and all the trimmings, I tell her what Lisa suggested, about retiring early and we go on to talk about what I’d do if I took that option.  She has me travelling the world – studying yoga in India, going to Peru to see Machu Picchu, flying by helicopter across the Grand Canyon.  “You could do
anything
, Mum … it would be amazing … like a grown-up gap year.  You could just spend the lump sum … life’s too short to be sensible.”

“It does sound fantastic, Holly, but the the reality is, I’d be on my own.  I haven’t travelled without your Dad for … ever.  Imagine me, wandering around the world … I don’t think I’ve got the confidence and anyway, I wouldn’t want to spend the whole lump sum on …”

“But Mum, you might meet some gorgeous Indian guru or some Peruvian horseman …”

“I don’t think so, somehow … you read about the stupid older women going out to the Caribbean and meeting young Jamaicans who are just after their money … I wouldn’t want that …”

“You’re not
that
stupid, Mum …”

“Oh, thanks … maybe I
could
do some travelling, though – I’ve wanted to go and see Jane in Adelaide ever since she went out there, but there’s never been the money … or the time.  At least then, I wouldn’t be completely on my own.”

“Hey, well, there you are … that’s a really good idea.  If you gave up teaching, you could go out there for weeks, months even … you could escape the winter here and go out in the new year.  I think that’s a brill plan, Mum.  Resign now and take a long break away and come back with a renewed outlook.”

“It does sound good.  Jane’s always going on at us to come out and I haven’t seen her for years.”

“Well, then, what’s stopping you?”

I look at her and we both laugh.  She has such an infectious enthusiasm for life and it’s rubbing off on me.  In my head, I can see a much younger version of me, floating across an Australian beach in a bikini, the waves catching the sun with glittering stars and some young bronzed life-saver dude, running towards me.  He’s got a surfboard tucked under his arm and one of those ridiculous life-saver hats on his head.

“What’s stopping you?” Holly repeats, louder.  Reading my mind she says, “You might meet some old Aussie guy wearing one of those hats with corks dangling from it!”

She brings me back to reality – my Aussie dude was like something out of ‘Endless Summer’, not some raddled sixty year old.

“Why don’t you email Jane and ask her if it’s possible first and then go on from there.  I think you need something like this, Mum.  God, I’d be so jealous …”

“Adam would have a fit – he’d accuse me of following him out there …”

“Well, Australia’s big enough to miss him, Mum … but if he wanted to meet up, you could.  He won’t mind.  Don’t let that put you off.”

We finish our main course and then share a sticky toffee pudding and ice cream.  There’s something really nice about one pudding and two spoons; David and I used to share puddings all the time.

When it’s time to go, I give Holly the cash and she goes up to the bar to pay.  I notice a lot of chat again, with Jed, and I see them both get out their phones.  The modern way of swopping numbers – no paper required any more – just a quick call.  He bends down and kisses Holly’s cheek; I stand up and walk towards them.  She introduces me and I’m slightly mesmerised by his stunning, piercing blue eyes which twinkle at me.  I can see that Holly’s cheeks have a pink blush and I’m pretty sure it’s not the alcohol having that effect.

“I’ll be in touch,” he says, as we walk towards the exit.

“Okay,” she says, holding the door open for me, her eyes looking back to him.

When the door closes and we’re walking home, I take her arm and say, “Jed’s rather nice.  What’s he do for a living?”  A typical mother comment, but it does tend to show you a little bit about the person.