Page 53 of The Notecard
‘You’ve been listening to George?’ says Mum incredulously. ‘But you don’t even like George.’
‘It reminds me of you. The day we got married.’
Mum smiles. I can see her melting. It’s quite a sight to watch. My parents falling back in love in front of me. It wasn’t that long ago that she called him a ‘cardigan twat’ and he called her a ‘mangy old bird’. Now they sound like two lovesick teenagers. It gives me hope that everything will turn out alright in the end. For every sex pest like Mum’s date Dave or mucky Jason on Tinder, there’s a cardigan wearing man like Dad, who will do anything to get the love of his life back.
‘Oh, Tony,’ says Mum, tears in her eyes again.
‘Sam,’ says Dad, and then they both put their hands on the screen. ‘I love you.’
‘I love you too, you soppy old sod.’
They stay like this for a moment, and then Dad says he’s going to be home soon. Mum tells him to hurry up with a silly, flirty giggle. Dad gives me a kiss on the cheek before he dashes out. He’s going to get the love of his life back. I’m almost in tears myself.
‘I’m sorry I had to use such underhand tactics,’ I say to Mum.
‘It’s okay, Megs,’ says Mum, grabbing a tissue and blowing her nose. She gives it a good blow. ‘Right, I’d better get ready for Tony. Daddy’s coming home!’
‘That’s great,’ I say. ‘Although can you not call him Daddy like that?’
Mum laughs then hangs up. I sit here for a moment. I’m so happy that Mum and Dad seem to be getting back together. Laura will probably find some reason to be annoyed about it. It happened while she was out of the country. I was involved in it. She wasn’t. I don’t care though. I want Mum and Dad to be happy again. Together. That's all that matters.
I can’t help but think about my love life. I don’t have one at the moment, and that’s fine. Beth posted an Instagram story today from Glebe in Sydney. She was wandering around this small suburb, amongst the cool, Victorian houses. She ate at a wonderful little café and had eggs benedict and a coffee. It looked incredible. Then she took the bus back into the CBD, met a friend, and they went for drinks. They finished the day at the Opera House. Watching her videos makes me yearn for the day when I can leave and head off into the world. Two months and I’ll be jetting off to Thailand for leg one of my trip. I’m so excited. I’m looking forward to it more than I’ve looked forward to anything for a long time. There is just one thing that takes my mind off it slightly, and that’s Nick.
I can’t help that I like him. I can’t seem to help that I have feelings for him. The chemistry is there. But the timing is all wrong, and he might be moving to Nottingham, and I don’t know where I’ll be when I get back. After six months travelling the world, who knows how I will change and what I’ll want. And yet. I can’t stop thinking about him. There is something special there. I’m lost in thoughts of travel, of Beth and Nick, when from within the depths of my mind, I hear a voice. It’s Hugh. I’m woken up. I walk into the hallway that leads to the living room. By the bathroom door is Hugh.
‘Please come out,’ pleads Hugh. ‘Keri, please, come on, let’s talk.’
‘What’s going on?’ I say.
‘It’s Keri. She’s locked herself in the bathroom and she won’t come out,’ says Hugh.
It seems I have another relationship crisis to sort out while completely ignoring my own messy feelings towards Nick.
‘I’m not coming out!’ shouts Keri. ‘I’m having an existential crisis!’
Hugh looks at me. Poor Hugh. I really don’t know what’s going on with Keri, but this definitely isn’t the answer. I have to help. I have to do something. This isn’t going to be another Pret A Manger egg salad sandwich fiasco.
Nick
‘Rob?’ I say to Fee. ‘He’s here. He popped in after work, and I forced him against his will to stay for dinner. His phone? I don’t know why it’s turned off. Let me get him. One moment.’
I look at Rob. He’s standing up. I put my hand over my phone so Fee can’t hear me.
‘Just tell her you’re having roast lamb here and you’ll be home soon.’
I pass the phone to Rob.
‘Hi, baby, yeah, sorry, stupid phone battery died again. I’m just having roast lamb with Nick, then I’ll be home. Yeah, sorry. Love you lots. Bye, bye, bye, bye,’ says Rob, and then he hangs up. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
Rob rushes off to the toilet. I sit down at the table again. I’m intrigued by Michael and Mum’s news. They’re going to Ibiza. I’ve never been to Ibiza. I never had time for the whole lad’s holiday abroad in my late teens or early twenties. I was too busy studying. When you choose medicine, you agree to give up a lot. During university it was excessive drinking and going abroad during the summer. In your twenties, while friends are getting married, buying houses, and travelling, doctors are working seventy to eighty hours a week. We aren’t buying houses or getting married because we don’t have the time. We’re in survival mode. I haven’t had time for a holiday in years. Not a proper one. I’ve had a few long weekends away, one with Molly to Edinburgh, but otherwise the last ten years have been consumed by work. I’m hoping over the next ten years, I’ll be able to work on the other parts of my life like buying a house, having a relationship, and going on holidays. I would love a week in Ibiza. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself with nothing to do for an entire week, but lie on the beach, drink and eat. It sounds wonderful. Two weeks sounds positively barmy.
‘Let me tidy up,’ says Mum when we’re all done. ‘You boys have a chat on the sofa.’
I haven’t really spoken to Michael one on one since he came to my flat and we talked about him and Mum. The lie. We move across and sit on the sofa. I’m eager to talk to him about his past. I want to know more about why he stopped making music, and more about the girl who died. The girl who wasn’t his wife. Poor Rob is still in the bathroom. I hope he’s going to be okay.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I say.
We’re on the sofa. Glasses of wine in hands. Michael says yes.
