Page 10 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
‘Hmmm.’
‘Which means?’ The monitor rustles in my hand, and my foot starts tapping the floor. I’ve been out half an hour, and already the guilt is setting in. What if I reach the point where I can’t do this anymore? I’m barely able to step out and go to the gym or the supermarket. Yet, I have to hold on because there’s no choice. Can’t think about what happens if my trip doesn’t go well, if no lead turns up and I return without any news. What if she can’t cope?
‘Okay, so maybe I can’t go with you, but I could work from your mum’s. I once babysat Natalie’s twins, and that’s got to be worse. Besides, your mum—I love her. Happy to sit and watch movies and make her some food and talk about whatever it is she feels like talking about that day. Would be rather fun, I think. But go within the next two weeks if you can. After that I’m swamped.’
‘You would work from my house so I can go on a wild goose chase across Sweden?’ I can’t quite believe what I’mhearing. But then, I always suspected Zara was equally fond of my mother as she is of me. Who wouldn’t be fond of someone who, when you turn up on their doorstep after having been expelled from school over green hair, exclaims, ‘Green is the colour of intellectual stimulation and thinking. A great colour, if I may say so,’ and puts the kettle on rather than calling their parents?
‘This is important, right? I have some editing deadlines, but I don’t see why not. The early nights and being forced to stay in will be great for me.’
‘You’re amazing.’
‘Yes. Yes, I am.’
‘I will write you a list—a manual—for everything you’ll need.’ I’ve never let go before, never let someone else in to help. My head spins with everything Zara will need to know. ‘But I have to say, it’s a lot of hard work.’
‘You think because it’s only you and her, this is your load to carry alone, and I get it. But you’re also only one guy, Blade. This could be a good break for you too, a step away from all the responsibility, and one that you need or else you’ll burn yourself out. I’ve got this. You’re not the only person capable of caring for your mum.’
I want to believe her.
Badly.
When I get back to the house an hour later, I go straight upstairs and lie down next to her. Half my body fits on the bed and the other I keep propped up with the help of my leg. My hand finds hers. I stroke it and let my mind pause for a second on my mum. She’s strong. Despite the erratic instructions from her brain, her body is still going, still workingeveryday, harder even than I am. Me and you, Blade.Me and You, she’d say to me.Yes, Mum, me and you, I’d echo. And it would be enough for her.
One trip.This may be the last thing your mother asks from you.
You can do this, Blade.
Sophia
Svedala
‘Lina, this is madness. You deserve so much better. Thebest.’
I sit at the breakfast bar with a glass of hot cocoa repeating things a girlfriend should repeat to someone who’s been recently dumped, as she sips a wine I bought her. I tend to not like alcohol because it makes my cheeks flush and my head spin and I sometimes say things I don’t mean. I always tell the man in the wine shop that I’m having a dinner party and am cooking a fish or a lamb shank and would he recommend something, please, as I don’t drink very often. It sounds more sophisticated than saying I need something that my best friend can slurp up whilst discussing her latest break-up. It turns out Mr. Must Have Nutella in the House at All Times has bombarded her with a string of text messages sharing his unsolicited advice on how she could be a better girlfriend, not so he can be with her but, you know, so she may keep a boyfriend in the future. How generous of him. So far his suggestions include not taking guys to her apartment as it’stoonice and a lot of men may feel intimidated by her clear and apparent success. He also suggested she make more of an effort to cook dinner for her boyfriend. You know, just a suggestion.
‘He just wasn’t ready for a grown-ass woman who does what she likes in her home. Think of him, he said? I have better things to do than memorise every taste and need he has and to restock the cupboards every other day before he comes over. I’m not his mother.’
I refill her glass, which was empty surprisingly fast.
‘I take it that since it’s now been twenty minutes of talking about this, you want to change the subject,’ I say.
‘Yup. No more than twenty minutes to be spent on him.’
‘Great. Can I show you my revenue spreadsheet?’ I ask.
‘Wow, that’s a cracker of an invitation on a Friday night, girl.’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘Of course. Anything you ask is a yes from me.’
I’m not quite sure how I got this lucky. I had friends before. I realised early that to make them, you just do a little bit of what everyone else wants and become this mosaic of a person that everyone can tolerate. I said this to Lina once, and she said maybe we need to tear all those mosaic tiles down and go pick a style that I, Sophia, actually like.
I enter my password and hand her my laptop.
She studies it, taking a sip of wine every time she scrolls down.
‘Excel drinking game. Shame for my kidneys you have so many rows.’
