Page 8 of Not Moving Out
Freya and I filled our plates up, too, while Freya poured herself a glass of white wine and I got myself a can of Camden Hells lager from the fridge before joining Dolly at the table.
I looked across at Freya, she looked back at me, and I knew that neither of us were excited at the prospect of breaking Dolly’s heart. I hated the thought that we were letting her down because, whichever way you sliced it, we had failed and, in doing so, we had also failed her. Freya and I loved her so much, and yet it wasn’t quite enough to keep us together. At least we were waiting for her to move out before the actual separation, which was something. But then she would have the difficult decision of whose house she would go to during breaks from university. With the family house gone, it would undoubtedly become something of a game-show-style backwards and forwards between Freya and me with elation for the winner and commiserations and possible bitterness for the loser. Whatever way you looked at it, we had let her down, and the future wasn’t the Disney version of a family we had spent years doing our best to make a reality.
‘So,’ said Freya when we were about halfway through our meal. ‘There’s something we need to talk to you about, love.’
Dolly stopped eating and looked across at Freya. I was beginning to sweat, but I didn’t know if it was because I was nervous or whether it was the heat from the madras curry I had ordered. It felt like we were drawing the curtains on her childhood and, after this, everything would be different. Freya looked across at me for support. She obviously wanted me to help break the news. Perhaps my ‘special relationship’ with Dolly might somehow help soften the blow, and maybe I could sneak a joke in there and make everything better.
‘Dolly,’ I said, and she looked across at me. ‘You know that your mother and I have been having some issues for a while now. We haven’t been happily married for quite some time.’
‘Okaay,’ said Dolly. Another crunch as she popped a poppadom in her mouth.
‘Well,’ I replied, looking across at Freya, who gave me an encouraging nod. ‘We’ve decided that what’s best for us, for our future, is to separate.’
I said the word and we both looked across at Dolly, trying to gauge her reaction. Would she burst into tears? Would she dash out of the room in horror? Laugh? Be angry? Disappointed? Sad? Neither of us knew how she would respond, but I don’t think either of us were prepared for her actual response, which came swiftly, and with barely a flicker of emotion.
‘Right, okay,’ she said brightly, as if we had just told her we were changing our brand of toilet paper. She didn’t seem bothered at all, which was a very strange reaction indeed. To confirm her feelings upon the matter, she dipped another piece of poppadom in yoghurt, and then popped it in her mouth with a loud crunch.
‘Did you hear what your father said?’ said Freya, sounding concerned.
‘Uh-huh,’ said Dolly, her face giving nothing away.
‘You aren’t a bit sad about it?’ ventured Freya. ‘Or angry? Disappointed? It’s okay, whatever you’re feeling, love, you can tell us.’
Freya and I looked across at each other, both worried by our daughter’s apparent lack of emotion about our separation. Dolly wasn’t an unemotional person by any stretch of the imagination. As a young girl, she was always full of love, empathy, and she was never shy about expressing her feelings. Even as a teenager, she was never one of those grumpy, short-tempered teenagers, who retired into themselves, and barely said a word to their parents other than the occasional mumbled request for a new app on their phone or money for clothes. I had always felt like Dolly was an open-ish book, but now she was reacting to our news with barely a flicker of emotion.
‘I’m sad, obviously,’ said Dolly finally.
‘Sorry, but you don’t seem very sad,’ said Freya. ‘You seem almost, I don’t know, ambivalent.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ said Dolly with the same level of control. ‘I think it’s sad.’
‘But?’ I asked.
‘But nothing,’ replied Dolly.
‘Nothing is going to change until after you leave for university,’ said Freya, trying to reassure her. ‘Your dad will move into the spare room, but otherwise it’s business as usual.’
‘Business as usual!’ I reiterated for some added assurance, although I couldn’t help but feel like I was jumping on board with a position we all knew was essentially bollocks. We both looked at Dolly, hoping for something slightly more emotional or something that said she cared.
Instead, she stood up, and said, ‘I’m going to my room to study.’
‘You didn’t finish your food,’ I replied.
‘I’ll get it later,’ said Dolly, disappearing out of the room, and then we heard her feet on the stairs, and then her bedroom door closed with a thud. I looked across at Freya.
‘That was strange.’
‘It was,’ said Freya. ‘Do you think she properly understood?’
‘I mean, we were quite clear and she’s a smart girl.’
‘Right, agreed. It’s just… I don’t know. Should one of us go and talk to her? She’s clearly not handling this very well. You know how much she enjoys an Indian.’
‘Maybe leave it for now.Give her some space, and I’m sure she’ll get some food later.’
‘Right, okay.’
‘She’ll talk when she’s ready,’ I said, and Freya looked across at me and I knew exactly what she was thinking:Like you, you mean?
