August 28th, 1989

August 28th, 1989

At home
I made the mistake of sharing some stuff with mum about my recent chat with Ben. For a few hours she carried on as normal and over dinner, with dad, she made no mention of anything I’d shared with her.

Then tonight, after dad had gone to bed, the two of us were watching tv and everything seemed fine. Until mum said;

“I don’t want you to get back together with Ben.”

I stared at her.

“Shut that off,” she said, indicating to the tv.

I got up and did as she asked then I made my way towards the door.

“Don’t you dare,” she said, in a tone I didn’t dare disagree with. I sat on the couch beside her.

“Listen,” she said. “I think you’ve been much happier since the two of you split up.”

“But…”

“Just listen,” she said, interrupting me. “I know you were upset when you came back fae seeing him in France and even though you didnae tell me straight away what happened, I knew.”

“You did?”

“Aye of course I did. I could see how sad you were.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

She shook her head. “The only things I had to say were no what you would’ve wanted to hear.”

“Probably not.”

“I see you enjoying yourself and having a great time on your trips, meeting new people that sound smashing. People you’ll be pals with for a long time.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“Like Frankie and Annabel for instance.”

I smiled. “That’s true, I’ve met some great new friends.”

“Aye and you’ll continue to meet more. I just think you’re better off moving in the direction you’ve been going in, that’s all.”

“Are you talking specifically about David?”

“I think you should at least give the boy a wee chance.”

“You haven’t even met him.”

“Naw, but I’ve talked to him on the phone enough to get a good sense of who he is.”

“Yeah, an American with a nice voice,” I said, sounding like a stroppy teenager.

“Aye well that’s true but I mean more than that.”
“I know you do, sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Listen hen, you’ve got the world at your feet and it’s up to you what you want to do.”

I sighed. “I know.”

She squeezed my arm. “I just want ma lassie to be happy.”

At least in that, we can agree.

 

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