Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m at my parents’ house, sorting through my things, working out what to keep, what to donate, and what to throw away. All under the watchful eyes of my Leonardo DiCaprio posters, of course – I suppose I’m going to have to work out what to do with those too. They’re all faded, after being up for so long, and held up by such crusty Blu tac that it might actually be better for the walls to leave them up, unless the room is being redecorated soon.
I sort through at least two bags carefully before I start to get bored. I dump the next one out into a big pile instead. That’s when I spot it, the one item amongst my clothes that is not mine, it’s a white man’s shirt, or more specifically my ex-boyfriend’s shirt.
I hold it up in front of me and just stare at it. I genuinely don’t know how I ended up packing it – I certainly didn’t intend to – and I really don’t have a clue what I should do with this. I’d burn it, if I had any sense.
‘Holding on to things like that won’t do you any good,’ my mum says from my bedroom doorway.
‘I didn’t mean to pack it,’ I insist, but this falls on deaf ears.
‘Dwelling on what happened with you-know-who isn’t going to help you get over him,’ she tells me. ‘It was wrong of him, to lead you on, pretending he was single like that, but you have to let it go. You have to let him go.’
‘I have,’ I tell her and, wow, I think I have. I haven’t thought about him in days – I don’t even remember what the last thought I had about him was.
‘Come on, let’s get something to eat,’ she suggests. ‘And a cup of tea.’
My mum drinks tea like her life depends on it. I think I’m getting more like her, in that respect, as I’m getting older.
I throw the shirt to one side.
‘I’d love that,’ I tell her.
Downstairs, I scan the kitchen for what I fancy to eat.
‘What can I make you?’ my mum asks brightly as I take a seat at the table.
‘I actually really fancy a mix of cereal,’ I reply. I really couldn’t think of anything better right now than my mum lovingly combining my favourite cereals to cheer me up.
‘Leah, I thought you were getting your life back on track,’ she replies. ‘Perhaps it’s time to eat just the one type of cereal, like an adult. It’s lunchtime, really. How about I heat us up some sausage rolls?’
I can’t help but laugh. I guess at least this means she thinks I’m doing better.
‘Go for it,’ I reply.
The doorbell rings.
‘I’ll get it,’ mum says.
‘Well, while the sausage rolls are warming, I’ll go crack on with my sorting,’ I tell her.
‘No crying into that silly shirt,’ she calls up the stairs after me.
Starting as I mean to go on, I march into my old room, grab his shirt, and throw it into the bin bag. Then I smile because, honestly, I really am over him. The only thing I want to do now is look forward. Of course, I should probably look backwards sometimes, because it’s only when I hear him gasp that I realise that Adam is standing behind me.
‘Oh my God,’ he blurts. ‘Is this the Leonardo DiCaprio suite?’
‘No, Josh Hartnett puts in an appearance too,’ I reply. ‘What are you doing in here?’
‘Your mum said you were up here, that I should tell you the sausage rolls will be ready in twenty minutes, and that I could stay for some if I wanted.’
‘Why?’ I blurt in disbelief.
‘I think she’s just being a good hostess,’ he says.
‘No, why are you here?’ I ask him.
‘Oh, I just came to see how you were,’ he tells me. ‘Or if you might need a hand. Si said you’d come here, to sort out your things, and I’m free today so…’
‘Do I even need to explain that this was my bedroom when I was very young, and that I just haven’t had the chance to take these down yet?’
‘You can try to explain,’ Adam says as he sits back on my bed and gazes up at the Leo poster on my ceiling, ‘but it won’t do any good.’
‘I just had, you know, a normal teenage crush, it’s nothing weird,’ I insist.
‘Did you want to be the Juliet to his Romeo?’ Adam asks playfully.
‘Well, that didn’t end well for either of them,’ I remind him. ‘But if you’d asked me when I was fourteen I probably would have said yes.’
He laughs.
‘Oh, is that your yearbook?’ he asks.
‘Yeah,’ I reply.
‘Come on, let’s see,’ he practically begs. ‘I love to see a person’s origin story.’
‘Fine, fine,’ I say, grabbing the book, sitting down on the bed next to him.
‘There we go,’ I say, tapping the page with my finger. ‘That’s me in year 9. I was so shy, and so quiet. I’m not sure how many people would even remember me.’
‘You don’t look much different,’ Adam tells me, ‘but you certainly seem like a different girl to the one you were at school.’
‘How so?’ I ask.
‘Well, for one thing, you said you were shy and quiet at school. But now you’re confident and… you’re a little intimidating.’
‘I’m intimidating?’ I squeak with surprise. ‘How?’
‘Because you’re this gorgeous young woman now. You’re certainly out of my league, and my brother isn’t even playing the same sport as you.’
I laugh at his joke but at the same time I feel my cheeks warming, thanks to the enormous compliment he just paid me.
Suddenly an awkwardness sets in. It’s like we’re having a moment, only we’re not allowed a moment, so instead of going in for a kiss we just clam up, stop talking and avoid eye contact. This time it’s different though, because Adam takes his hand and places it on top of mine. Before either of us has the chance to say or do anything my mum appears in the bedroom doorway.
‘Are you having a roll?’ she asks.
‘A… what?’ I reply.
‘Sausage roll?’ she says. ‘You and your new friend.’
I’m relieved when my phone starts ringing. A distraction from the distraction.
‘It’s Angie,’ I tell them both. ‘I’ll just see what she wants.’
‘Actually, I’d better go,’ Adam says, standing up and hurriedly making his way towards the door.
‘No, stay, I’ll only be two minutes.’
‘It’s fine,’ he insists. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ Mum tells him. ‘Maybe sort you a sausage roll, for the road.’
And with that, he’s gone.
‘Hello Angie,’ I chirp as I finally answer my phone.
‘Hey Leah, what are you doing tonight?’
‘Nothing,’ I reply, almost excitedly. A night out with the girls is just what I need.
‘Well, me and our Tim fancy a romantic night out, so we wondered if you would babysit the little ones for us.’
‘Oh,’ I can’t help but reply.
‘Jesus, Leah. You could sound more grateful. We don’t hear from you in days and then suddenly I offer you a job and you don’t want to know.’
I don’t point out that her asking me to babysit her kids isn’t really a job, but I'm in no mood for an argument and at least it will get me out of the house tonight.
‘I’d love to do it,’ I lie. ‘What time do you want me there?’
‘See you at seven. And we’re planning a late one, so bring something to entertain yourself.’
Oh goodie, I get to spend the night with Angie’s kids. I don’t know their names, ages, or general temperament, and I have zero experience with children but, how bad can it be?
‘See you at seven,’ I reply.