4 #3
I know my parents haven’t always understood my relationship, given they’ve never really argued throughout thirty years of marriage, let alone broken up before and gotten back together.
But they’ve trusted me to figure things out with Adam on my own, always there to listen and support me when I need it but never telling me what I should, or shouldn’t, do.
‘We’re here if you need to talk, but I know you know that already,’ she continues, like she’s reading my thoughts.
My heart squeezes, part of me wishing I wasn’t getting on a plane and going away from them for two weeks.
My parents are my rocks, always have been.
We’re a little unit of three, and she’s right that I know they’re always there for me, like I’ve always tried to be there for them.
Helping them out of any sticky situations, which is partly why I never like to be too far away.
‘Oh, your father’s come down, hold on one second…’ Her voice tapers off as she lowers the phone and I catch the muffled sound of her calling out to Dad. There’s some shuffling before I hear him, and when I do his voice gives me more energy than all the coffees I’ve drunk this morning combined.
‘Kiddo! There’s our little adrenaline junkie, how are you doing?’
I chuckle, kicking my feet out and settling further into my chair. ‘Dad, I’m the least adrenaline-seeking person ever, and you know it.’
He doesn’t deny it and instead starts telling me about his week before going off on a tangent about the neighbour’s cat who keeps sneaking into their garden. I have to cut him off before he goes on too long, knowing our gate number will soon be announced.
‘I meant to ask, how’s the script going for that pilot? The one you were telling me about last week?’
It’s for a new TV drama, a crime-procedural but with a supernatural twist, and Dad was so excited when he was brought on as a writer for it.
‘Oh yes, I need you to cross your fingers and toes for me on that one, are you doing it?’
My toes are squished in my trainers, but I manage to cross them, as well as the fingers on my free hand, which rests in my lap. It’s a silly ritual we do every time Dad has a project that we’re waiting to hear back on, or Mum’s had a big audition and we’re yet to get the results.
‘Yep, everything’s crossed – so did your agent say when you’d hear back?’
‘There’s a big studio considering it now, and we’re expecting to hear from them either way in the next few weeks.’
A few weeks, I repeat, which means it’s highly likely he’ll hear back while I’m still away. Again, I feel sad that I’m leaving, in case I miss out on the celebrations.
‘Okay, I’ll be thinking of you, Dad.’
‘Thanks, pumpkin, we could really do with this,’ he says, the enthusiasm in his voice waning, and I know enough to be able to read between the lines. What he’s really saying is they could do with the money a successful pilot could bring in.
He’s worked so hard, both of them have, that I hope they get some good news soon, either with Dad’s scripts or Mum’s auditions. But whatever happens, I’ll be there if they need me to help dig them out of any holes. It’s what I do.
Around me, the others start to stand, and our boarding gate appears on the big screen.
‘I’ve got to go, Dad, but I’ll text you both once we land and I’ll call you again soon. Love you.’
‘Lots of love to you too, pumpkin. Ski safe!’
I catch Mum calling goodbye in the background, then I hang up and slip the phone back into my pocket.
While following the others towards the gate, I can sense Adam lurking right behind me, but I continue staring straight ahead.
‘Are you really going to ignore me for the whole holiday?’
I reply with no words, only a sharp glare in his direction.
‘Okay fine, I deserve the silent treatment. You have every right to be annoyed, and if you’re going to make me work for it, fine. But do you really think you’ll be able to keep this up for a fortnight?’
I scoff at the sarcastic tone of his question, not letting him suspect he may be right. This time I can’t resist responding, if only to knock him down a peg.
‘If you think I’ll be running back to you in a week because you plan on giving me some extra compliments, you’re delusional.’ I spit the words back at him, pushing my way forwards until I’m leading the group.
We’re separated now by the other four, and I need that space because being around him is too confusing.
I had wondered whether coming on this holiday with him would be awkward, that our break-up would be the elephant in the room that we’d all try to ignore but would feel lingering there all the time.
But he’s acting like nothing’s happened.
He’s acting like it’s every other time, diving into operation grovel, convinced that’s all it’ll take.
But this time isn’t like the others. He slept with someone else, and now he’s viewing this trip as some sort of redemption opportunity.
Fine, let him try, but if he thinks the outcome is predestined, he’s wrong.
I do plan on spending these two weeks figuring some things out about us, but I’m also not going to let thoughts of him dominate my holiday. The only bed other than my own I’ll be ending up in isn’t his, it’s a massage bed in a spa after a successful day on the slopes.
That is, after I learn how to ski in the first place.