I hung there for a while, the crisp September air conjuring a thousand memories of late summer nights stretched out on picnic blankets, skinny-dipping in a moonlit lake with my squad, the prickle of damp grass under my toes as we ran for home…
Over the past few years, I had mentally and emotionally shrunk to fit a life behind four walls. Survived by making the best of things, banishing any thoughts or dreams of outside as much as possible, avoided total breakdown through focusing on what I had, where I was, not what I was missing. But things were changing.
The quiet of the night wooed me with the promise of safety beneath its thick canopy. I softly closed the window and padded upstairs to bed, wondering if soon I might accept its invitation.
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Four
Monday was a bad day, riddled with anxious thoughts about a million things. I wittered through my work, trying to ignore the shadow of shame on my shoulder. I was feeling small and scared about the enormity of the challenges ahead and crushed with the grief at what I had lost. I needed to recognise how awful my life had become to keep going forwards, but at the same time that was gut-wrenchingly painful and left me feeling desperately exposed. My fracturing relationship with Cee-Cee meant that my security was crumbling away, too. Without her, I felt lost and alone.
And to add to all this was the guilt. Cee-Cee had taken me in, and then spent all these years helping us, being there. We’d become family. Was it right to suddenly change the rules, start putting limits on her time with me, and more importantly with Joey? Perhaps I was kidding myself, saying it was for her good as well as ours to move the boundary lines. Should I try harder to work things out, see if she could help me with the Programme instead of assuming she’d sabotage it?
The trouble was, I had no idea. No clue how healthy, functional families worked. And right then, I had neither the energy nor the strength to try to figure it out.
That evening, I held the door open for three seconds before slamming it shut in a fit of panic. A new personal worst.
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day Five
Joey watched me over the top of his breakfast bowl. ‘You look well rough.’
‘Thanks! I’ve not washed my hair yet.’
‘No. I don’t mean that. Are you sad?’
‘I had a setback with the Programme yesterday.’ I sloshed some coffee in a mug and came to sit opposite him.
He tipped out another half bowl of cereal. ‘So, what did you do when you were swimming, if you had a setback? You didn’t give up, did you?’
I sighed. ‘I set the alarm for fifteen minutes earlier. Trained harder. Stayed longer. Made sure it didn’t happen again.’
‘There you are, then.’
* * *
I had planned on working late that evening. My client had changed their mind about how they wanted to address the contract they were hoping to win, and the deadline was zooming up fast. The boss of the tender company I freelanced for only tolerated me missing client meetings and training days because I reliably produced good work, on time. Maybe I would manage a meeting soon, but in the meantime I was heading for an all-nighter.
A few minutes after five, my phone rang.
‘Amy? It’s Lisa, Ben’s mum.’
‘Yes, hi. Is everything okay?’ Joey had arranged for Lisa to give him a lift back from the athletics tournament.
‘Joey’s not here. Ben and his mates have had a good look around, but he’s nowhere.’
A tentacle of fear uncoiled in my stomach and began slithering up my ribs. ‘Has Ben called him?’
‘It goes straight to answerphone. Sounds like the battery’s run out. He left the changing room before Ben and no one’s seen him since. The teachers are looking, I’m sure he’ll turn up any moment, I just wanted to let you know, given that letter we had about the strange bloke hanging around.’
‘I… um…’ The tentacle reached my brain, clamping a sucker on so hard, I couldn’t think. I tried to remember where the tournament was, how far away. Could I get there? For Joey?
‘Could he have forgotten he was coming with me? Got a lift with someone else? Most of the other parents are still here, but we could send a text out.’
‘Th… thank you. Yes. That’s probably a good idea.’ I could call a taxi. Ask Lisa to come and fetch me… pace the streets until I found my boy. I could do that, couldn’t I? ‘Should I come down? Help look for him?’
As ifshouldwould make any difference.
