Chapter Six ~ Fiona
Waking up in my childhood bedroom never fails to be disorienting.
You’d think I’d be used to waking up in strange places; some of the more fast-paced On the Go Travels tours have us in a different city or even a different country every day or every couple of days.
I’ve slept in hundreds of beds—not to mention sleeping bags, floors, couches, cots, and palettes—over the years.
And yet waking up in the bed I slept in for almost two decades fills me with a sensation akin to an out-of-body experience.
The last few days have been a blur. Every morning when I first wake up, I feel like I’m forgetting something.
Like I should be somewhere else, doing something else.
Then I open my eyes and see the same pictures and posters that have adorned my walls since I was a teen, and I remember where I am and why I’m here.
The wake was four days ago now. Or is it five? Mum and I had stayed curled up in each other’s arms on the loveseat until we cried ourselves dry. When I finally looked up, I was shocked to discover everyone was gone except for Thomas and Nathan, who were helping the catering staff clean and pack up.
I’d offered to help, but Nathan suggested I get Mum to bed, and then get some rest myself.
So that’s what I did, knowing we’d need to recover before the funeral the next day.
If the wake was emotional, the funeral was like death by a thousand cuts.
Gone was the semi-festive mood of the wake, replaced by everyone in black, faces sombre, and voices hushed.
It was like they’d all forgotten that Dad wanted his life to be celebrated, and had returned to how they thought they were supposed to mourn.
Since then, Mum and I have been at home, mostly curled up together on the couch or in her bed.
We have enough food in the house to last for months, and people are still occasionally dropping by with homemade meals or bags of groceries.
They seem to forget we’re only two people, but if it makes them feel better, I can’t fault them.
A clattering from downstairs draws me out of my reverie.
I toss back the sheets and roll out of bed, going straight to the window and opening the curtains to welcome the sunlight in.
My gaze roams over the corkboard next to the window.
This room is like a time capsule; nearly everything is how it was when I left at nineteen.
After graduating from high school and working for a little over a year to save as much money as possible, I began my travels in my home country and then ventured into the States and South America.
I spent months practice-packing and whittling down my belongings to fit into one large backpack.
The rest of my stuff stayed here, ready for me when I came back.
Except that when I came back, it wasn’t to stay, so my room remained the way it was, down to the photos and mementos on the corkboard, and the posters and magazine cut-out collages tacked to the walls.
I told my parents they should turn the room into something useful, but they said they didn’t need it for anything else.
Mum confessed to me a few years ago that she likes to come in here from time to time and remember me dancing to the Spice Girls or mooning over teen magazines featuring my celebrity crush du jour.
Dad told me once that my travel wall was one of his favourite things to look at.
It features maps from all over the world with specific countries circled or pinned, along with photographs of famous monuments, many of which Dad took himself and let me have.
I run my fingers over the map of England, tapping the drawn-on heart around London.
If I could tell Teenage Fiona what was in store for her, I’m sure she’d never believe it.
Prying myself away from what could end up being a long trip down Memory Lane, I follow the smell of coffee to the kitchen, but freeze just inside the doorway.
Mum is standing at the sink, gazing out the window into the backyard.
She’s wearing what I’ve always thought of as her usual everyday attire: dark jeans and a red long-sleeved blouse.
Her damp hair is scooped back into a slightly messy version of her signature updo.
Movement from the kitchen table catches my eye, startling me.
Nathan is sitting there with a cup of coffee and a plate with a half-eaten cinnamon roll.
He winces slightly when our eyes meet. It takes me a second to decipher the look he’s giving me, but when his gaze darts to Mum and back again, I realize it’s a mixture of guilt and concern.
Mum must sense my presence, because she turns from the window. Her eyes are blank for a moment before she gives me a tiny smile. “Hi, honey.” Her voice is weak, like it’s an effort to even speak those three syllables after hardly uttering a word the last few days.
“Hi, Mum. It’s good to see you up.” I don’t add that it’s also nice to see her showered and out of Dad’s baggy pajamas. I haven’t exactly been the picture of good hygiene myself the last few days. “What’s the plan for today?”
“Let me get you some coffee first,” Mum says, starting toward the cupboard where the mugs are. “And something to eat. Regina from the café stopped by with a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls this morning.”
Nathan jumps up from his seat as I open my mouth to tell Mum I can get my own breakfast. He smiles at her as he grips her shoulders and steers her toward the table.
“You sit, Mae. I’ve got it.” His expression when I entered the kitchen makes sense now.
Mum likely insisted on making coffee and serving Nathan.
Mum reaches across the table and lays her hand briefly over mine.
The affection that shines through the exhaustion makes my heart clench.
“I need to...” She trails off as if she’s lost her train of thought.
She retracts her hand and scrubs it over her face, shaking her head and drawing in a deep breath before letting it out slowly. “I need to go into work today.”
Nathan meets my eyes over Mum’s head. From his raised brows, I’m guessing they’ve already had this conversation, and he doesn’t approve any more than I do.
“Nobody expects you to go back to work this soon, Mum. It hasn’t even been two weeks since Dad died.”
Mum fusses with Nathan’s discarded napkin, folding and refolding it before ultimately tossing it next to his plate in a heap.
“I know nobody expects me back this soon, but it’s different when you own a business.
My staff is perfectly competent, but there are things only I can do. I need to be there.”
My parents own a café downtown called Sweet Escapes.
The building was a bakery when Mum was growing up, and she worked there as a teen.
Shortly after my dad moved to Honeywell, the owners moved away, and the building sat empty for a few years.
Mum worked as a baker in the town’s sole grocery store, dreaming of owning her own café and being her own boss.
After my parents got married, my dad bought the building.
He told Mum she’d made all his dreams come true, and it was his turn to make hers come true.
That was my dad: making sure the people he loved followed their dreams.
Nathan sets a cup of coffee and a plate with a giant, gooey cinnamon roll in front of me. He gives a curt nod when I thank him, then tops up his and Mum’s cups before returning to the table.
“Why don’t you let me go to the café in your place?” I suggest to Mum. “Tell me what needs to be done, and I can check in with the staff, see how everything’s going, and report back to you.”
Mum releases a long sigh. “I love you—both of you—for wanting to protect me and make sure I’m okay, but I need to be busy.
My mind is like a never-ending merry-go-round, spinning through memories of my life with your dad, wondering if there were any other treatments we should have sought out, thinking how unfair it is that he was taken from us so soon.
I’m afraid if I don’t keep my mind and hands busy, I’ll turn into a bitter old woman. ”
I’m about to argue when Mum proves how well she knows me by holding up a hand to stop me. “Your dad would want me to keep living, keep pushing ahead. He’d hate knowing I’ve been doing nothing but lying in bed for days. And he’d want you to go back to London and keep travelling.”
A wave of guilt washes over me. I still haven’t told Mum about my suspension from work.
What good would it do now? It would only add to her stress and give her another thing to worry about.
Hoping to buy myself a minute before replying, I take a sip of coffee and nearly spew the liquid out the second it touches my tongue.
I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something so disgusting.
My eyes seek out Nathan’s over the rim of my mug. I expect him to avoid my gaze the way he usually does, but he’s looking at me head on, and I swear there’s a hint of laughter in his eyes. He tilts his head subtly toward Mum and shifts his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug.
Mum must take my silence for disagreement. “I don’t need a babysitter, Fi.”
“I know you don’t,” I say firmly. “You’re the strongest, most capable person I know. But what if I need a babysitter?”
My words have the desired effect: Mum cracks the tiniest smile.
I reach across the table and take her hand. “I want to be here for you, the way I should have been here for Dad. I should have—”
She gives my hand a fierce squeeze, silencing me mid-sentence.
“We’ve been over this, Fiona. You had your father’s blessing to stay abroad.
He would have hated for you to sit by his sickbed when you could have been out there in the world experiencing incredible opportunities most people only ever dream of. ”
Her eyes fill with tears that catch and shimmer in her lower lashes without falling. From the corner of my eye, I see Nathan slip from his seat and cross the room to the sink. I don’t know if he doesn’t want to hear what Mum is saying, or if he’s giving us a moment of privacy. Maybe both.
“I know you feel guilty, but I’m telling you there’s no reason for it,” Mum continues.
“I’ve heard the whispers—hell, I’ve had people tell me right to my face that it’s a crime you weren’t here more while your dad was sick.
I’ll tell you now what I told them: your dad and I supported you wholeheartedly.
All we ever wanted was for you to be happy and live the life you dreamed of.
You knew your dad was proud of you, but I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how proud I am. ”
The tears in Mum’s eyes still haven’t fallen, but tears stream down my face now.
I always knew I had their support, especially Dad’s, but sometimes I wondered if Mum truly understood my insatiable wanderlust. She’s always loved travelling too, but she loves coming home just as much, and has often said that at the end of the day, she’s a homebody.
“Thank you, Mum. I really needed to hear all that.”
She squeezes my hand before pulling away to wrap her fingers around her coffee cup.
“It’s all true. And now that you know all that, I also want you to know I’ll be fine here when you go.
I have the boys to look out for me, and Thea and Joss too.
I’m surrounded by people who loved your dad and understand what a great loss this is. I’ll be well looked after.”
“But what if...what if I’m not ready to go yet?” I ask. Mum’s brows inch up. “What if I want to stay? Would that be okay? I believe you when you say you’ll be fine, but what if I stayed and we took care of each other for a while?”
Another tiny smile. I’d say or do anything to put a full smile on her tired, pale face. “What about work? You can’t just take an extended leave with no warning, especially at the start of the busy season.”
Without thinking, I take a sip of coffee, forgetting the brew tastes like sewer sludge.
I choke it down, trying not to wince. Now would be the time to tell her the truth, but I don’t think I’d see any more smiles or glimpses of the old Mum if she knew I’d been suspended from the job I love so much.
I’m also not eager for Nathan to know that particular tidbit of information yet. Or ever.
“Mila’s helping me with all of that,” I say. “If you want me here, I’ll be here.”
She nods slowly, her eyes narrowed as she studies my face. For a moment, I wonder if she suspects something’s up. “If you’re sure, then of course I’d love to have you stay.”
“I’m positive. And if you insist on going into work today, why don’t we at least go together?”
Mum nods again. “Deal. Nathan, are you heading to work today too?”
“I was going to stick around if you needed me, but I suppose it’d be a good idea to go to work before I fall too far behind.”
“Good. I doubt anything will feel normal for any of us for some time, but hopefully getting into a routine again will help.” Mum picks up her coffee cup and peers at me over the top.
“It’s going to be great having you here for a while, my love.
Really great.” She toasts me with the cup before taking a sip.
Her nose crinkles and her top lip curls as she sets the mug on the table with a thunk.
“Why didn’t either of you tell me this coffee tastes like shit? ”
My gaze darts to Nathan, whose expression is as stoic as ever, although his eyes are alight with mirth.
Several beats of silence pass. He’s the first one to crack, and I’m not sure what feels better: hearing him and Mum laugh for the first time since I arrived home, or the sensation of relief that washes over me as I giggle along with them.