‘OK, Mum,OK, Dad,’ I say, feeling a speech building. ‘I am genuinely pleased you’re back together and I wish you many serene years of screaming at each other. But here’s the thing: you have to stop putting me in the middle. It’s so unfair. I’m your daughter and I love you both. I can’t keep listening to you two bash each other night and day. Do it to each other, by all means, if it’s what works for you, but I’m not here for that. It hurts me, do you understand that? It makes me sad and anxious, and I can’t have that in my life. I can’t let you do that to me anymore. I’m in a happy place right now, and you will not ruin that for me. Why do you think Tom doesn’t take your calls? He doesn’t want to deal with this – with you two being awful about each other.’ I breathe out slowly, and continue. ‘Look, I want you both to know that I understand, and I know it’s hard. I know you’re human beings, and we’re all flawed. But I also need you to be my parents, at least a little bit. So, please, no more calling or texting to complain to me. Save it for your therapist.’
The silence is a little shocked. They’re not used to me speaking up for myself. Honestly, I’m not used to it either. I’ve never told my parents off before. I’ve never said any of this. I’ve spent years quietly listening to them being selfish, putting up with it like some idiot. But I’m done with that now. A new Lilah is in town.
‘OK, pussycat,’ Dad says in a low voice. ‘We hear you. I’m sorry. I hadn’t really thought about how our problems would affect you. I didn’t think, I’m sorry.’
‘I’m much sorrier than he is!’ Mum interrupts, and then stops herself. ‘No, sorry, ignore that. We love you very much, Lilah, and you’re right, it’s incredibly unfair what we’ve been doing to you. But everything’s going to be wonderful between us now anyway, so we won’t need to moan to you anymore.’ She laughs. She knows that’s not true. ‘Either way, I promise we’ll stick to normal parent chat from here on out. Life, work, the weather. Do you forgive us?’
I giggle, relieved and feeling empowered. ‘Of course I do. But while we’re here, Dad, please can you stop answering the phone that way? It’s really annoying. That Pussycat song is so patronising. And can you just call me Lilah? Because you do know that Delilah song is about a woman cheating and then getting murdered with a knife, right? You’ve actually heard the song, haven’t you? It’s such a weird choice to name your only daughter.’
Mum laughs heartily and Dad harrumphs.
‘I told him that too!’ she says happily. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him, Lilah, I was out of my tree on labour drugs.’
Dad sighs. ‘You two just don’t appreciate the genius of Tom Jones. It’s got many layers, that song. But fine,OK, I’ll stop.’
I breathe out, smiling down the phone. ‘Thank you. Thank you both for listening. I want you to know I am here for you if you need to talk about anything. I just don’t want to hear any of that mean stuff anymore.’
‘You got it,’ Mum promises, but she sounds distracted. ‘Hey, Harry, what are you doing right now? Do you want to come over? You should see what I’m wearing...’
Nope.
‘Right,’ I interrupt, mortified. ‘I also don’t need to be here for this, thank you very much. I’ll catch you two later. Enjoy your reunion. Love you both.’
‘We don’t need therapy, though,’ Dad mutters as I hang up.
Across the room, Joely is grinning at me. ‘Bloody hell, well done, Lilah,’ she says. ‘Now text your chicken shit little brother. Give him a good telling off for abandoning you with your folks all the time and ignoring your messages.’
Ooh, good idea. I like this, I’m on such a roll.
‘Dear Tom,’ I type, reading it out loud for Joely, who is pouring herself more fizz before topping me up too. ‘You are my brother and I love you dearly, but it’s time to stop being a chicken shit. It’s time to stop hiding from real life. We are both grown-ups and real life is happening over here. You have to share some of the responsibility for our annoying parents (who – shocker – are getting back together, by the way. Did you know?).’ I stop to take a sip from my drink, feeling the fizz flood through my sinuses. It always makes me burp through my nose.
‘Tom,’ I continue, ‘I need you. I need my little brother. I want us to be close, and we can’t be close unless you decide to answer my messages or even pick up your phone occasionally when I ring. I only hear from you when you need money and that’s not enough for me. What do you think? Please text me back.’
Sent. Done.
Ooh, it feels good telling people off. People who really deserve it. Even if it is only in digital form.
I feel like I’ve had a to-do list hanging over me for ages – years, maybe – and I’m finally ticking things off. My parents needed to hear some home truths, and so did my brother. Now, if he still doesn’t make any effort and if my parents are still selfish arseholes, at least I know I asked. I tried.
I really feel like a different person in recent months. Like I’ve been unleashed. I think it all started with Mr Canid and arguing with him. He’s really opened up a can of wormy kick-ass. I know I’m mixing my metaphors there, but that’s fine.
We’re still fighting, by the way. I’m still having lots of arguments with Mr Canid – I can’t get used to calling him Oliver – but it’s much more like fun bickering lately. The hate is definitely gone. Oh, except when he says I still don’t know how to say his name right. But even then, I’m mostly just pretending to be annoyed.
We’ve been working together on the Fuddy-Duddies United Youth Project, and we just heard it’s got proper government funding! We’re going to be launching events around the country to bring communities together. We’re going to help vulnerable young people spend time with lonely older people. It’s about connecting those who need connecting, and I feel so excited and passionate about it.
As for the situation with Will... I still don’t know. We’ve met up a few times since his shock appearance at the airport. We’re talking a lot and I do still love him, but – and I don’t know if I really want to admit this out loud, even to myself – I think maybe I don’t want to get back together. I think it’s that cliché thing people say: I love him but I’m not in love with him.
Basically, I feel like I want more from a relationship. More excitement. More arguments. More passion. I’ve realised that I was kind of... settling with Will. And he deserves more than that. Everyone around me was getting serious and making big life commitments and I thought I had to as well. Like, it was the righttimewhen he came along, so he must be the right guy. But much as I like him as a person, I think, more and more, that we weren’t quite right for each other. Plus, he wants to get married, and screw that.
It seems stupid because, really, I have everything I need with Will. He’s good and kind, and we have our lovely life together. My friends and family all like him. Ilike him so much! I know he would make me happy and we would have a nice life together.
It’s not as easy as knowing one path would be the right path, because life is more complicated than that. Every path is right and every path is wrong. I’d probably be happy enough with Will. I feel sure we’d be fine. But maybe it wouldn’t be that much fun... I don’t know, I can’t know, because life doesn’t work like that. No one can know what will happen.
So, for now, I’m not making any decisions. I’m being a really awful person and keeping him dangling a tiny bit. And I don’t even feel bad about it! I feel great.
The thing is, I’ve spent so much of my life worrying about other people. Worrying whether they liked me, worrying how I looked and worrying what everyone thought of my decisions. I worried about being lonely, I worried about not being included, I worried about social media. I scrolled through Instagram, convinced everyone else had it all figured out. Convinced I was getting my life wrong. I was afraid to say no and thought I had to put everyone else first. Even when people treated me badly or continued to behave selfishly, I let them. I encouraged it, even, because I thought it made me a good person to let them treat me that way. I thought being a nice person was the only important thing to be.
I mean, it definitelyisimportant, and I still want to be a nice person wherever I can. Obviously I want to make the world a better place in my own small way – maybe with Fuddy-Duddies United! – but I think I can do that without worrying and caring so much. It doesn’t require giving over my whole self to other people.
