‘How are you finding it all, are you feeling settled?’ she asked before she took a mouthful of her salad. A little sauce spilled from her lips and she emitted a squeak like a small animal, then dabbed her mouth with a piece of kitchen roll.
Settled. I pondered over the word, which had so many connotations. I didn’t think I would ever feel settled, in fact, I was forever teetering on the edge of uncertainty. But I imagined Mini was curious to know if the bed was comfy enough and had I found enough bathroom space to keep my toiletries.
‘I am now, yes. You know what it’s like, it takes a while.’
‘And your course? Textiles, isn’t it? Has it started yet?’ Mini reached over and edged yesterday’s newspaper closer to her; it was open on the crossword where someone had abandoned it halfway through.
‘Erm, yes. Next week, after the Easter holidays,’ I said, trying to sound keen, but I felt burdened with guilt at being able to start again, learning a new skill, which I hardly felt I deserved. But I needed the distraction. I also needed something to spend my money on. The money that was fairly mine. An even split down the middle. It was what I was entitled to, so I took it. There hadn’t and wouldn’t be any lavish expenditures, I would simply exist with it. I had reached a point where I was functioning, and that was all I needed to do.
I watched in awe as Mini rapidly filled in the blank spaces of the crossword with only a moment’s pause after reading each clue.
‘Have you always loved art?’ she asked.
I thought back to my late teens, when most girls my age were out experiencing everything they could. By the time I was twenty, I had already become a mother.
I reached for a stray paper napkin and folded it over six times until it was a neat, tight square wad.
‘I loved design at school,’ I said, pressing the napkin square down until my finger turned a deep shade of pink.
I noticed Mini staring at my finger and I quickly pushed the napkin away. I knew she saw what most did; a woman with a bunch of obsessive compulsions.
What she didn’t know was what I did to become her.
2 Then
The room was filled with dancing bodies and people slouched in sofas and chairs. A block of three disco lights flashed beneath a makeshift DJ booth where a pale, skinny guy with a ginger afro was mixing vinyl records. I looked across to my right and my eyes stopped on a guy a few feet away. I could tell he was older than me as he danced amongst the chaos, busting out some moves to a Michael Jackson hit. There was something alluring about him, something about the way he smiled. He had a slight gap in his teeth, but it suited him. He wore a faded black T-shirt; his tanned arms were muscly with wisps of light-blonde hair. His hair was cut short and I wanted to run my fingers across it, to feel the brittle follicles on my fingertips. I watched him for what felt like forever until finally his eyes met with mine. We shared a moment and in that look was a sentiment that said, ‘I know you.’
Even though we hadn’t met before, it was as if we had known each other all our lives. When he finally found his way over to me, he began the conversation as though we were halfway through it.
‘That vodka won’t drink itself, you know.’ He pointed at the full bottle next to me. I had bought it from the off-licence on the way here, along with a bottle of Diet Coke. But I didn’t fancy drinking either of them.
It had been another friend’s birthday two nights previously, and I had gone at it pretty hard, so was still feeling the after-effects.
I was only at this party because I was staying with my cousin, forty miles from my house. He rang on the off-chance and said one of his friends was having a party and did I fancy coming up and staying the night? There was a moment when I thought to myself, I won’t go, I’ll stay at home and keep an eye on Mum.
My mum was having another one of her turns. The ‘black dog’, as she preferred to call it, had come back to visit. I thought the term was more depressing than depression itself. I would be turning eighteen in the summer, but I would probably still stay living with Mum. I needed to keep an eye on her, even though all she did was sleep during these episodes.
But there was another part of me that was interested to go to the party, to see what the night could bring. I was still young and ready to grab what life offered with both hands. And if I was being totally honest, I was looking for love. I had grown up watching too many films: Sleepless in Seattle, When a Man Loves a Woman, Indecent Proposal. Mum would always have a love film on any time of the day or night. She referred to them as her ‘weepies’. I never saw her weep at them though. Instead, by the end of the film she would have more of a scowl on her face, as though she knew she had been dealt an injustice. But still she played them. And I watched. And I learned that no matter what life threw at you – alcoholism, bankruptcy or the death of spouse
