November 24th, 1990

November 24th, 1990

At home, England

Because of the delay, we didn’t land at LHR ‘til after five tonight, by which time it was already dark and more than dreary looking. I felt utterly depressed on the crew bus to the car park with Andy, for whom I must remember to buy a thank you card. He was an absolute sweetheart and shared so much about how and when he came out to his family, leaving me to hope that if and when David comes out, his family will accept him in the way Andy’s did.

About halfway home, the reality of no relationship with David hit me and I wouldn’t know where to start describing how it feels. I couldn’t wait to get home, crawl into bed and perhaps not get up for a very long time.

When I pulled up, the kitchen light was on. That’s strange I thought. I must’ve forgotten to turn it off. For the first time ever, I left my suitcase in the car and thought I’d freeze to death on the doorstep, fiddling with the key.

I turned on the light in the hall and the living room and felt my heart sink when I spotted mum, asleep on the couch.

“Mum,” I said, gently trying to rouse her. “Mum, are you ok? What are you doing here?”

She made a sound but her eyes remained shut.

“Are you ok? Does dad know you’re here?”

She half opened her eyes but I could tell from the blank stare she was already in what she sadly refers to as, “The dark tunnel.”

“I’ll be right back,” I uttered, heading upstairs, where I grabbed the extra blanket off the bed in the guest room.

I draped the blanket over mum, slipped off her shoes and rang dad.

“Do you know mum’s here?”
“Aye, I’m sorry hen, we had a few, eh, words and she-”

“I understand. She can spend the night here, looks like she’s in a bad way again.”

“It’s that bloody depression, it just creeps up on her and makes her…uff, I don’t even know.”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s the pits.”
“Make sure she disnae take too many tablets.”

“I’ll see what she has in her bag and give them to her as needed.”

“Thanks hen, I’d come and get her but-” Sensing his voice was about to crack, I said, “Don’t worry, she’s fine here. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“I should ask how Thanksgiving went, was it good?”

“Eh,” I said, feeling the lump in my throat. “I’ll fill you in later.”

“Aye ok, hen. Give me a wee phone in the morning or if you need anything tonight, disnae matter what time it is. You know that.”

“I do, thanks dad.”


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