I took a deep breath. ‘You can stay here, alone, which is a perfectly valid option if that’s what you want. Or, you can offer a home to your good friend in urgent need of a room to rent. Either way, I’m moving out at the weekend.’
The only sounds were Mum’s uneven breaths and the rumbling of a lawnmower in a nearby garden. A prickle of sweat ran down my back. This was the first time I had stood up to Mum like this. I had run headlong into uncharted territory, with no idea where it would lead.
‘What do you say, my friend?’ Karina spoke, her voice soft, eyes gentle. ‘Team Trina, telling that evil whatshisname on Coronation Street what for, needles clacking, a packet of Jaffa Cakes to share?’ Emboldened by Mum looking up, an ocean of pain and confusion in her eyes, Karina reached across and took her hand. ‘Let your girl go and be a woman, Tina. She’s going either way, but if she leaves without your blessing, you may lose her altogether.’
‘I can’t… I won’t…’ She lurched to her feet, fleeing into the house and clattering up the stairs to her bedroom, the door slamming behind her.
I called Aunty Linda while Karina cleared away the meal. It took a full three days of heart-wrenching conversations, tears and accusations, but we got there. I didn’t have my mother’s blessing, not by a long shot, but we had her name on a rental agreement for Karina, all important bills and accounts back in her name, and we only had to call the GP out once.
It was the hardest, most hellish three days since Dad had left. If it wasn’t for the strong women who had my back – Steph, my aunt and Karina – I would have changed my mind a zillion times.
It didn’t take long to pack up my empty life into a couple of suitcases and the boot of my car. Friday evening, Linda dropped off the bulk of Karina’s things, and the following morning we switched the room over.
I’m sure that leaving home, saying goodbye to the woman who raised you is always an emotional occasion.
When I finally said goodbye through a bedroom door that had remained locked the whole time I’d been ferrying boxes down the stairs, the emotions included anger, guilt and more than a little relief, in amongst the stress and sadness.
‘Are you absolutely sure about this?’ I asked Karina, as she handed me a tissue to wipe my tears. ‘It’s not too late to change your mind.’
‘She’ll have to come out eventually.’ Karina patted my arm. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Give us a ring once you’re settled.’ My aunty pulled me into the giant hug that my mother should have given. ‘Now, go and make those dreams of yours come true. And no looking back!’
I did look back. As I left the house. When I reached my car door. Once I’d backed out, I paused and pretended to be fiddling with my satnav for an achingly long minute.
When I finally knew she wasn’t coming, I switched my gaze to the road ahead, turned up my Dream Life playlist and did my very best to keep on going.
5
It was Thursday before I had my big breakthrough. The week had been a hodgepodge of anxiety, guilt and unbridled joy that seemed to flip at the slightest thing. Sleeping alone was taking some getting used to – my new bed wasn’t arriving until the weekend, so for now I was camping out on the sofa, and it was disconcertingly quiet away from the constant rumbling of the city. I wasn’t afraid but I was alert. Being the sole person responsible for locking the doors, popping to get more milk or deciding what to do in the evening was a strange, new world. It reminded me of the bridesmaid dress I’d worn for Steph’s wedding – I absolutely loved it, but at the same time it felt uncomfortable and far too sophisticated for me.
I’d sat on the kitchen doorstep to sip a black tea before leaving for work each morning, and ventured into the forest for a short walk every evening. My head buzzed with plans and ideas for the garden, the bedroom, my empty weekends, while at the same time the endless possibilities frequently threatened to overwhelm me. How did anyone make these kinds of decisions on their own?
On Monday morning, I had made the gut-twisting decision to block Mum’s number. She’d started calling and messaging just before midnight on Saturday, and it had been a relentless barrage since. Mostly disguised as motherly chat:
Just wondered if you know where the potato peeler is?
Or:
Good luck with your 1st day in the new job! Thinking of you xxx
A few were more blatant:
It’s so empty here without you
I’m really struggling, Ollie, can you call me?