Chapter 8
‘That’s good, pretty, but sensible.’
My eyes narrowed on the phone perched on top of my dresser.
‘Since when was sensible a good thing?’ The pair of high-waisted black jeans clung tightly to my hips. I rotated, looking at myself from all angles in the mirror with a growing frown.
‘Since you’re desperately trying to avoid getting a tattoo.
’ The amount of unrestrained glee in Fallon’s voice was unsettling.
After chatting to a guy on the dating app over the last couple of days, I’d quickly arranged a date—the sooner, the better—and thankfully, he wasn’t put off by my eagerness and had agreed to a date the very next night.
I still wasn’t sure if how easily he agreed was a good thing or not. In a couple of hours, I would find out.
The white button-down blouse was precisely what she’d said. Sensible.
‘No. I look like a nun about to take her vows.’
‘Not sure nuns wear jeans so tight you could see your flaps,’ Fallon pointed out, taking a sip of coffee. She was sitting at a kitchen counter, her pink hair piled up in a loose bun on top of her head.
‘Excuse me, my flaps are perfectly tucked.’
‘Lucky,’ Fallon grumbled. ‘I get carpet burns when I get out of bed too quickly.’
I removed the matronly blouse and spun around to my bed, where half of my closet lay in disorganized clumps. Roxy sprawled on top of half of them, on her back with her legs in the air, fast asleep.
‘Ah, this is the one.’ Holding the piece of material aloft in triumph, I unbuttoned my jeans to change into the bodysuit.
‘That one is the opposite of sensible.’ Fallon rolled her eyes.
‘Then it suits me perfectly.’ Tugging back on my jeans, I waltzed over to the mirror.
This time, the reflection staring back at me felt more recognisable.
A strapless, black lace bodysuit with a sweetheart neckline that made my ample chest look incredible.
With the right understated jewellery, it was the ideal first-date outfit.
‘When are you coming back?’ I came over to the dresser where my phone rested and put in some simple gold earrings. ‘A week was long enough. We’re edging towards ten days. You need to come back now.’
A light laugh worked its way up her throat. ‘It’s not my fault the club had signed Oliver up for a bunch of speaking engagements.’
‘Excuse me, but your boyfriend is a multi-millionaire. I’m sure he could have figured out how to get you home.’
‘He’s not Batman, Rosie.’
‘He wishes,' I murmured. Taking the piss out of her boyfriend wasn’t unfamiliar territory for us, and Oliver gave as good as he got. When Fallon’s eyes darted to the side and her forehead creased, I froze.
‘What’s wrong?’
Her eyes snapped back to mine, hearing the anxiety in my question.
She forced a small smile to her face, and in a voice far too high-pitched, she said, ‘Nothing.’ Without pausing for me to dissect her forced nonchalance, she continued, ‘Look, we’ll be back two days, and since you booked us both in for yoga, for god knows what reason—’
‘I’m trying on the health and fitness aesthetic. And if I’m going to look like an idiot, you’re doing it with me,' I cut in. It had been an impulsive idea to sign up for a yoga class—another decision I made after too much scrolling Instagram late at night when I couldn’t sleep.
‘Uh, huh.’ Her bland expression told me how impressed she was by my idea. ‘I’ll meet you there.’
Roxy’s head lifted from her spot on the bed a second before a soft knock rapped on my front door. Not giving a second thought to my clothes, she sprang to her feet and scrambled off the bed, disappearing into the kitchen, taking several items of my wardrobe with her.
‘That’s Mum,' I explained.
We said goodbye, and I headed out to answer the door. Roxy’s tail wagged so hard she was seconds away from taking flight. Pushing her gently out of the way, I looked through the peephole to double-check.
‘Hi, honey, I’ve brought you some things,’ Mum announced when I opened the door.
Flecks of grey smoothed seamlessly into blonde hair that hung loosely around her shoulders.
Two plastic bags rested in the crook of her elbow.
She cooed softly to Roxy, who started jumping up and sniffing the bottom of the bags.
She hurried passed me, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek.
Suspicion immediately took root when she plopped the bags down on my kitchen counter, and the faint scent of sage wafted out of one of them.
‘I don’t need anything,' I said, cautiously. ‘What did you bring?’
Mum wore a long, flowing green dress. Hemp necklaces hung loosely around her neck. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a Fleetwood Mac album.
‘Just some things to help you out, you know.’ She waved away my concern with a flick of her slim wrist.
My reservations were warranted given the dubious nature of my mother’s interests.
For over ten years, she’d barrelled head first into her ‘witchy phase’.
Taking it seriously. She had weekly coven meetings—in reality, it was a chance for the local ladies to come together, drink wine and pretend to hex their ex-husbands.
Every room in her house had charms and odd trinkets hung all over the place.
Each one, she claimed, had a certain ability to heal all kinds of maladies.
I edged around the counter to peer into the bag she brought. Her hand came out to stop me. When she looked up, her eyes widened, scanning me from head to toe as if she’d only just seen me.
‘You look lovely.’
Leaning back against the cabinets, I gave a half smile. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
Turning her attention back to the bags, my eyes narrowed. ‘What’s in the bags?’
She sighed, expecting the scepticism. My lack of belief in her spiritual ideologies hadn’t stopped her from trying to lure me across that line of thinking.
‘Just some things I think would help you. I know you’ve not been sleeping too well.
So I brought you a lavender spray.’ She pulled out a small purple bottle that looked worryingly homemade.
Setting it on the counter, she carried on rummaging.
‘I’ve also bought you some crystals to put on your bedside table.
They’re specifically for an anxious mind, so pop them on there and it should help. ’
A jagged pink crystal was placed in my hand and mum closed my fist around it, patting me sharply on the back of the hand.
I toyed with the stone, feeling the harsh bumps under the pad of my finger. ‘Mum, I’m fine, really.’ The lie tasted sour on my tongue, but it had become a ritual over the years to keep reassuring her I was good. Happy. Safe.
Her eyes pinched in motherly concern. She reached up and cupped both my cheeks. ‘I know, dear, but it can’t hurt, can it?’
Not wanting to hurt her feelings, I kept hold of the crystal as she continued.
‘Got some things for Roxy as well.’
Thankfully, what she’d purchased for my dog were standard chews and a squeaky pig that sent Roxy into a fit as she snatched it out of Mums offered hand and darted out of the kitchen to the living room, curling up on the sofa to loudly meet her new friend.
‘Now, where are you off to? You didn’t say, is Fallon back?’
I shook my head. ‘In a few days. I’ve, uh—’ I put the crystal on the counter and ran a hand through my freshly curled locks. ‘—got a date.’
Mum’s back stiffened almost imperceptibly. ‘With a man?’
‘No, a pigeon.’
‘Rosie—’ Mum started with an exasperated sigh.
‘Of course it’s with a man.’
Her carefully plucked eyebrows shot to her hairline. ‘So this is an actual date, then?’
My head dipped in a nod. Worry flashed across her face, the corners of her eyes crinkling in an attempt to smile that came out as more grimace than anything else.
In a voice too bright and bubbly to be believable, she said, ‘That’s lovely.’
To other parents, it might seem odd that my mother was more at ease with my lack of commitment than the prospect of me starting anything serious with someone.
Shouldn’t you want your child to find their soulmate?
If you believed in such things, which I didn’t.
Whilst most parents with a grown child were dreaming of grandchildren to dote on, or weddings to plan.
That very thought caused all the muscles in Mum’s body to tighten.
Her fear of history repeating itself solidified in her veins.
Exhaling a sharp breath, she spun around and collected me in a swift, bone-crushing hug.
The scent of her Nivea face cream and perfume filled my nostrils, the smell familiar and warm.
‘Be careful,’ she breathed before pulling away with that same forced smile plastered on her face.
‘It’s just a date,' I tried to say, in a tone that hopefully told her how inconsequential I considered tonight.
It didn’t diminish the worry in her eyes.
But I’d learned from years of experience that nothing could.
There’s a particular type of pain that doesn’t fade over time, it doesn’t lessen or vanish.
It often embeds itself, burrowing deep into your soul, and when you’ve been hurt by men as often as she had, me going out on a date wasn’t innocuous.
It’s sending the thing you love most in the world into the hands of what caused you immense suffering.
And nothing I could say would change that.
So I stayed quiet.
Saying a quick goodbye to Roxy, who was well used to our routine by this point, I gave mum another quick hug and closed the door. My heart pounded hard, blood whooshing around my head.
It’s just a date.
One date. I could handle anything for one night.