Chapter 11
11
I turn the key in the lock as slowly and quietly as I can manage, the door creaking open with an uncooperative groan.
Well, tonight’s date was officially another dud, and for some reason I’m feeling more demoralised about it than usual. Normally, I’d brush it off – just another mildly annoying waste of time and perfectly shaved legs. But tonight, something feels different, and I think it might be my thirtieth birthday, looming in the not-so-distant future, creeping up on me and whispering all sorts of nonsense into my ear.
I never thought I’d care about turning thirty. I’ve always been pretty happy with my life – free and single, working a simple job, and living with no commitments. Who needs a career, a mortgage or a husband to be happy, right? As though they are things on a tick list that needs checking off to be living life.
But lately, I’ve noticed the way people look at me shifting, and the way they talk to me. Everyone has always thought of me as a bit of a wild child, someone who doesn’t want responsibility, who just wants to have fun, and even if they didn’t agree with me, it was like it was fine because I was in my twenties. Apparently it’s not cute any more though. It’s like they’re all judging me now, as if my choices are suddenly tragic once they’re stacked up against my age. Oh, she’s single because she can’t get a man. She’s in a dead-end job and she will be until she dies. She’s living with her ex because she’s got nowhere else to go. When you put it like that… wow, it does sound kind of tragic.
But I’m not one to wallow. I’m not going to throw myself a pity party just because society has decided thirty is the magical number where you’re supposed to have your life together. Maybe it’s time I did grow up a little though, and turning thirty could be the perfect push into a new era. A boyfriend wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, and I’ve got all these ideas at work – maybe I just need to find a way to implement them. And as for finding a place of my own, well, if I could just earn a bit more, I could even start thinking about a mortgage. Having my own space would be a dream come true.
The more I think about it, the more excited I get. It’s time to take charge, to really go for it. I bet no one ever thought they would hear me say that, least of all me, but here I am, on the brink of a breakthrough. With less than a month until the big day, that gives me plenty of time to be proactive. And hey, maybe I’ll even throw a party to say goodbye to my twenties. I’ll be in Australia for the wedding, but what better place to throw a big party and go out with a bang? My family, for better or worse, loves a good party, and my cousin Tiggy will be there. Tiggy’s a blast – a good-time girl like me, but with a more refined edge, thanks to her boarding-school upbringing. One big party to usher in my grown-up era – that’s exactly what I need, and I’m not just saying that because I’m a bit drunk.
Finally, I make it through the door and start creeping along the dark hallway, hoping to sneak into my room unnoticed.
‘There you are.’ Steve’s voice interrupts the silence, making me jump out of my skin.
He’s sitting in the dark on the sofa, facing the door, like an absolute psycho.
‘Shit, Steve! You scared the hell out of me,’ I say, my hand flying to my chest to try and steady my heart.
‘You’re home late,’ he points out, his tone as flat as a teacher having a go at a pupil for not doing their homework.
‘We got chatting, you know how girls are,’ I reply, trying to keep my tone light. But Steve’s clearly not having it.
‘Chatting?’ he repeats back to me. ‘It’s nearly midnight, Lana.’
I sigh, rolling my eyes.
‘I’m a grown woman, Steve, not a teenager sneaking in past my curfew,’ I remind him. ‘And you’re not my dad.’
Although he absolutely feels like it. Well, like a dad generally, not my dad, who has always taken the hands-off approach (at least that’s what we’ll kindly call it).
He gives me that look, the one that makes me feel about fifteen years old.
‘You should have let me know you’d be late,’ he says. ‘I was worried.’
‘Worried?’ I reply. ‘I was only on Call Lane, it’s hardly the Wild West.’
I suppose it is Friday, so that’s not unheard of, but it’s still a bit early for the usual chaos.
‘So, out with a friend,’ he says, his eyes narrowing. ‘Did you have a nice time?’
‘Yeah, it was nice to see him,’ I say automatically, and then immediately realise my mistake.
‘Him?’ Steve’s eyes are widening and narrowing like a camera lens trying to focus. ‘Him?’
Shit. I’ve messed up.
‘Yes, Him,’ I say, trying to sound casual. ‘My friend Him. Have I never mentioned Him before? Lovely girl, she talked way too much about video games, though.’
‘Right,’ he says slowly, like he’s filing away this new piece of information for future interrogation – I need to remember that I said that. ‘Do you want some food?’
I fake a yawn, stretching my arms over my head.
‘No, I’m exhausted,’ I reply. ‘I think I’m just going to head to bed.’
Without waiting for a response, I head for my room, shutting the door behind me. The single bed stares back at me, a constant reminder of Steve’s not-so-subtle attempts to keep me from bringing anyone else home. The faint marks on the floor where the double bed used to be are still visible, so it’s not even like he’s done a sneak job of it. Unless he wants me to see them, to remind me…
Well, the joke’s on him, because I manage in a single bed just fine, when I get the chance, or his double bed if he’s ever away for the night.
I flop down onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. God, I really do need to get out of here. But I feel good about my plan, to grow up a little – to naturally evolve, but because I want to, not because people think I should.
Now, I just need to figure out how to make it happen.