Page 3 of My Mistake To Make

Heading back out to the garden, I sat on Mum’s bench with a cup of tea and watched Dad work.

‘Dad, can I ask you something?’

‘Of course, darlin’,’ he said, standing and walking over to sit next to me, picking up his own cup.

‘Was Mum scared when she left America?’

‘No,’ he answered without hesitation. ‘Not scared. A bit sad that her family didn’t support us, but not scared. She was excited. As you know, you were a mistake…’

I looked down at the cup in my hands. A mistake. I’ve been told that my whole life. I was amistake. I know they never meant it to be hurtful. Simply that Mum getting pregnant with me while still in high school and with Dad only working in the States for one summer was not in their plan. It was supposed to be a summer fling, something to look back on fondly, but they fell in love. I just wished, just once, that he’d use the word accident or unplanned, but no, I was a mistake,themistake sometimes, which sounded even worse. Still, after thirty years, I couldn’t exactly pull him up on it now.

‘We had no choice. The fallout with her parents over her pregnancy was nasty, Cara. Your mum was hurt. She didn’t want to stay, so we left.’

‘And she just walked away from everything she’d ever known, without knowing what was waiting for her here, without a plan?’

‘You and your plans, Cara.’ He shook his head. ‘You can’t plan for everything, sweetheart. Sometimes you just have to trust your gut and take a leap.’

My stomach took a leap at the thought. I’ve never jumped in blind to anything.

‘Jamie broke up with me,’ I said softly, ‘said I’m too tied to routine. I’m boring.’

‘You’re not boring.’ Dad tapped his hand on my knee. ‘You’re just,’ he paused as though he was searching for the right word to describe me. ‘Risk-averse.’

Risk-averse?Bloody hell. That isn’t the way a daughter wants a father to describe her. Imagine that on my headstone:Here lies Cara Marie: Risk Averse. I wonder how I’ll die—can’t be an accident, surely, far too careful for that. Christ, I’m even too boring for an exciting death.

I looked at Dad blankly, realizing I didn’t know if he said anything afterrisk-averse, and he chuckled, then stood and put down his cup.

‘Don’t look at me like that. You don’t like to take risks, and you’re scared to make mistakes. That’s not a bad thing, Cara. It’s just who you are.’

I watched my dad go back to his pruning with wide eyes and an otherwise blank expression.

I don’t take risks. I,the mistake herself, don’t like to make mistakes. He’s right. Jamie is right. I am boring. Adventure for me is visiting Mum’s grave in the week instead of on a Saturday or eating steak on a Friday instead of fish.

Something needed to change.Ineeded to change.Oh, I felt sick.

But, Purple?

Cara

Four (and a half) Months Ago

‘Are you sure aboutthis, Cara?’

I stared into the mirror and met the wide-eyed stare of Elspeth, my hairdresser since I was two years old.

‘Aye, I am, Ellie. I need a change.’ I was resolved. I was doing this.

‘But, purple?’

She was horrified that I, for the first time in the twenty-seven years she had been performing the exact same trim every four to six weeks, was coloring my hair… Purple.

‘Yes,’ I said, certain. ‘It’s only the ends, and underneath, and well,YOLO.’

My voice wobbled with humor as I said the acronym out loud. I’d always thought it sounded a little ridiculous. I mean, what’s wrong with just saying you only live once? Why do we have to shorten everything? And actually, only living once was always my reason for beingrisk-averse. I didn’t want to waste my one go at this by being reckless. I had been wasting it, though, hadn’t I?

It took Jamie dumping me for me to realize that I haven’t ever felt the thrill of anything except music. I’ve never ridden a rollercoaster or got a tattoo. I have no idea what it feels like when people talk about an adrenaline high. I’ve never even had an org… well, that’s not a thought to have in the hairdresser’s chair.

My life is safe. It’s always been safe, and I thought that meant it was good, but when I looked at it now, I could see the only thing in my life I truly enjoyed was music, loud music with killer guitar riffs and heavy drums, music that welcomed people with piercings and tattoos, and purple hair.

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