Chapter 32
Theo
Mum: See you soon pumpkin!
Amongst the drama of last night, mum texted me before bed to say that the wedding photos had now all been developed, and she wanted Astrid and I to come round and have a look. She couldn’t have possibly picked a worse time for family gatherings, but alas, I knew we still needed to go.
Much to my shock, (note the sarcasm), nothing had changed. Nope. Our grand conclusion last night didn’t lead to any miracles this morning. I swore Darla was just playing with us at this point like a cat with a mouse. Not only did I still wake up in Astrid’s body, but I also woke up alone on the sofa. After I told her that I was ending things, she left the house for a while. I felt rough . It seemed in the moment like there was no other option and honestly, I did mean it when I said I was sick and tired of playing this broken record routine. It was tiring . It broke my heart to even breathe those words, I didn’t want that to be the end of everything, of course I didn’t. For god’s sake, I was ready to throw everything to the wind and start again because of that amazing night we spent together. It was one simple night with nothing but a weird movie and popcorn, but that was truly the closest I’d felt to her in ages. Our spark . But then I had to go and find her bloody diary? In a way, as much as I’d like to say that ignorance is bliss and that I wish I never laid eyes on it, everything happened for a reason. Perhaps I was meant to find it, the final piece in the one thousand piece-puzzle of Astrid and Theo’s relationship conundrum. Maybe it was the final sign that we just weren’t meant to be and to finally move on with our lives without one another. When she came back, I told her that she could take the bed for now and I’d crash on the sofa. She was reluctant at first, but eventually gave in when she realised that I wasn’t going to budge on that.
Not going to lie, I hated waking up on my own. It catapulted me back to when Astrid was at Uni and the bed would feel empty without her. She always used to sleep over when we first got together, so much so that there was a permanent dent in the right side of the bed where she used to sleep. It made it even harder whilst she was away, a clear reminder that whilst her presence and scent was there, she very much wasn’t. That’s why I absolutely loved it when we first moved in and shared our first night together in our King size bed. We made love all night, and cuddled all morning. It was bliss. The only thing getting me through the working day was knowing that I was going to get to sleep with her every night forever. I guess that was another reason I opted to take the sofa. One: I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, this sofa was like sleeping on a rock, and two: I knew if I took the bed and woke up without her, I’d feel the same pain I felt all those years ago, and I think I’d had my fair share of pain right now.
I knew there was so much stuff that we needed to do and discuss, after all, we still had no clue what was going on in terms of the Darla situation, and I guess we’d need to sort out…living arrangements. Oh God. That made my stomach cramp and churn just thinking about it. If Astrid left, the likelihood would be that she’d have to move to New Zealand with her parents as she couldn’t afford to rent a place by herself, and if I left, I’d have to move back in with mum and dad…and I really didn’t want to have to do that. It was either that or Dan’s new flat, I didn’t know which was worse. Plus, how even could we move in with our families when we were still each other? Nothing made sense. We shouldn’t even have to be talking about this. It should be the two of us together, always.
Fuck. Why was everything so goddamn difficult?
Now, I was going to have to go and wake her to let her know that we were going to mum and dad’s to look at their wedding photos today. You know, just to kick her when she’s down. Great.
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“Hi both!” Dad days happily as he answers the door and ushers us inside. It made a change from being welcomed with mum’s slobbery kisses like I was a toddler.
“Hello darling!” Spoke to soon. She immediately hounds poor Astrid and plants a wet kiss on her cheek, leaving a crimson lipstick mark in her wake. She flashes me an unimpressed smile, before guiding us to the living room where they’d brought up the slideshow of photos. I didn’t realise how uncomfortable it felt to be Astrid in our house, especially when your mum in-in law to be, (or I suppose now, ex mum in law to-be), looks at you like shit on the side of her shoe. It felt lonely.
“Look, Look!” mum dances excitedly, pointing at dad to press play. Dan’s here too, looking thoroughly bored before it’s even begun.
“How many photos are there?” Astrid pipes up to my surprise.
“Too many to count.” Dan mumbles under his breath.
Mum tuts, “these are our wedding photos. Show a little respect please.”
We all collectively sigh as dad presses play on the remote, mum’s mouth wide in a beam the entire time as she stares at the screen.
Some cringey instrumental music begins playing that sounds like it’s been taken directly from the background of a 2012 YouTube Vlogger video, and the giant words, ‘Margaret and Graham’s Wedding’ fill the screen.
There’s photos of mum and dad laughing in front of the church whilst everyone throws confetti at them, there’s a close-up of Dan shovelling his face with crisps at the reception which causes everyone to snort.
“That bugger!” he shouts, pointing an angry finger at the TV.
A photo of my cousins Zara and Lara pops up, they’re sticking their hips out to one side and holding up peace signs. I’m so glad that teenagers are still as cringy as ever, it’s a rite of passage. My grandma, and mum’s mother, is downing a glass of champagne, looking less like a 75 year old woman, and more like a 21-year-old at a nightclub. We all chuckle at that one.
However, our laughter is quickly quietened when the next photo pops up on the screen. It’s mum, looking red in the face as she wipes the splattered cake off her dress, with a very disgruntled-looking Astrid in the background. You could cut the tension in here with a knife.
Astrid awkwardly coughs before mum speaks up, “I didn’t pay the photographer to take photos of my misery!”
Dad puts a hand on her arm, trying to calm her down. “He probably meant to take a nice photo and he just happened to catch that by mistake.” Come on dad, we all knew that the photo was almost definitely intentional, but bless him for trying.
Clearly trying to grit her teeth and bare it, mum clicks onto the next picture. It’s me, but I look furious. It looks like I’m shouting at someone…. Astrid. I realised that it must have been taken just before cake-gate when we were arguing. I didn’t like the way that picture made me feel. Was that what I looked like when I was angry?
The next slide transitions in and it’s Astrid, looking equally fuming, primed with cake in her left hand. The photographer must have been having an absolute field day with this one.
“Ah, the culprit.” Mum pointed out dryly.
I watched Astrid fiddle with her hands uncomfortably. Please let the next slide be something else.
Spoiler alert. It wasn’t.
It was another photo of Astrid, but this time, it was an action shot of her throwing the cake across the room towards my head like a frisbee, and me ducking for cover. I can’t help it; I audibly snort at the sheer absurdity of the photo, causing mum to dramatically flip her head towards me.
“Think it’s funny to ruin other people’s weddings do you?” she guffaws, “I shouldn’t even be surprised really, it’s just what you do.”
I forgot for a minute that she thinks I’m Astrid. Her gaze is sharp and looks like she could turn me into stone at any given moment. It’s threatening. I feel like a rabbit about to eaten by a fox. Is this how Astrid felt? No wonder she disliked mum.
Mum sticks her tongue into the side of her cheek before chuckling sarcastically, “you know Astrid, it’s probably a good thing that you threw some of the cake away. Better than you eating it I suppose. I noticed it was a bit of a squeeze for you to get into your bridesmaid dress.”
Astrid’s mouth goes agape, and so does everyone else’s. I guess no one had noticed the brute force of mum’s horrible comments until now.
I notice though that Astrid sinks deeper into the sofa and doesn’t say anything. Had she given up?
“What?” Mum looks over at me, “No witty comeback for me today?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. I can’t take this. I’d had enough of everything.
“How about you pipe down now?” I say firmly, causing Astrid to raise in her seat, her face full of shock. I wasn’t staying silent, not anymore.
“You have no right to talk about her that way. Everyone has had enough of your snarky remark every 5 minutes.” Mum looks seething at the teeth. “Astrid is perfect the way that she is. She isn’t squeezing into anything! If anything, you picked an ugly dress for her to wear that wasn’t even her size because you couldn’t even be bothered to ask. It seems to me, that all you wanted to do was humiliate her, whilst making yourself look better.”
“Excuse me-” she butts in, her frown reaching her eyes.
“I’m talking and you’re listening.” I clip back, putting my hand in front of my face, “Whatever vendetta you have against her, ends now. I’m sick of all of it. It’s belittling and it’s bullying. I know Astrid’s not without faults, but all you seem to do is hurt her, and the worst part of all, is it seems that it’s because you woke up one day and decided that you weren’t happy with her living with me? Do better mum.”
A deafening silence encompasses the room.
Oh shit.
“Theodore!” mum turns to Astrid, “What is going on? Aren’t you going to do something about the way your girlfriend has just spoken to me?” She says the term with such disgust, it fills me with rage.
“No, I think I’m good.” Astrid replies, crossing her arms, her expression unreadable.
“What is happening? Why are you referring to yourself in the third person?” she waffles, evidently beginning to freak out.
“It’s none of your concern anymore.” I say, standing up from the sofa. Was I finally sticking up against mum?
“Shall we get going, Theo?” I dart my eyes over to Astrid who’s looking completely dumbstruck. Guess that’s what I was doing .
“Where are you going? Is that it?!” mum’s voice echoes from the living room as we make our way out.
I choose to ignore her. I didn’t want to entertain it anymore.
And as we head back into the car, clip our seatbelts in, and start the engine, for the first time in a while, I’m overcome with a huge rush of relief.