“I don’t want to let you go!”
“I know—but it’s time. Love you loads, and I promise I’ll stay in touch, okay?”
I reluctantly back away, but reach up to place my hands on his cheeks. I am crying, and he looks like he might cry, and the whole thing is pretty horrible. I haven’t been away from Charlie for more than four nights since he was born, and that was when he was on a school trip. This is hard, for so many reasons—but having seen his excitement, shared in his plans, I know it is the right thing to do. For him, at least; the jury’s still out on me.
“Promise me one more thing, though,” I say, staring at him intently, as though I am storing up memories of his face to last me while he is gone. “Don’t do anything too sensible, okay?”
He laughs and promises he won’t—then, with a jaunty wave and a final round of goodbyes, he is gone. I stand and watch him disappear off toward the security checks and feel like all the life has been sucked out of me. I am an empty nester who doesn’t even feel like she has a nest. Or an empty nester who has returned to her own childhood nest, at least.
“You’ll be all right, dear,” my mum says from behind, laying a hand on my shoulder. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you will.”
I turn around, find a smile for her. At least Charlie is leaving with my blessing, I think. At least I know where Charlie is going, and that he will be safe. At least I will be able to speak to him, hear his voice, see his face—which is a lot more than she had.
“You did the right thing,” she adds, a sad smile on her lips. “Letting him go.”
We both know what she is referring to, and I know that she is correct. I know it was the right thing, but it doesn’t feel great yet. I thank her, and we all disperse to the parking lot. Luke and I leave just after them, and I am silent as I drive. The weather has been ping-ponging between glorious sun and howling storms, with little transition between them. We are experiencing the classic British “four seasons in a day” phenomenon.
I navigate the winding roads, and concentrate on what I am doing, and allow myself to feel sad.It is okay to feel sad, I tell myself—and it will pass.My poor, sore heart is like Charlie’s ankle; it just needs time to heal. And maybe the application of an ice pack, or a few of Dad’s green cocktails.
As we hit the stretch of road that curves alongside Carbis Bay, one of those unexpected patches of sunshine descends. I glance down at the suddenly blue ocean and make a decision.
I drive us in the direction of a picnic spot I know and park up. Luke joins me, and we silently gaze out at the wonders spread below us. A wide crescent of golden sand, lush green banks tumbling toward the shore, and the white-tipped waves racing into land.
“Beautiful,” Luke says. “Like no place else I’ve ever been. And I’ve been to quite a few places.”
“I know,” I say, smiling up at him. “I took it all for granted when I lived here. I suppose now I get a second chance to enjoy it all again. I have a job interview next week.”
“Ah. And who is lucky enough to be potentially gaining your skills?”
“A data-processing company. Exciting, isn’t it?”
“Well, it might be, who knows? If the last phase of your life has taught you anything, it’s probably to keep an open mind.”
I nod and tell myself that he is right. It could turn out to be the most thrilling data-processing company ever to grace the earth, and anyway, it’s only part-time—I want to keep plenty of hours free to help my parents.
We sit together at the picnic tables, and I idly trace a love heart and initials that someone has carved into the wood. SJ loves MN apparently. I wonder how old it is, and whether their relationship has stood the test of time.
“He’ll be fine, Charlie will,” Luke says firmly. “And so will you.”
“Oh, I know we will—it’s just still a little raw. It will all be okay, nothing a bit of time can’t fix. Thank you. For today. For everything.”
I place my hand over his on the top of the wooden table, and he twines his fingers around mine. I have a sense of what is coming, of what he is about to say, and I know that it is yet another one of those things that is right, but still hurts.
“I think I need to move on, Jenny,” he says gently, his green eyes deep and vivid as we look at each other in the sunshine.
“Right. Where do you think you might go?” I reply simply.
“Not entirely sure longer term, but I think I might start with a visit to see Sally and her family, and my brother. I’ve neglected those relationships, and this has all been a pretty vivid reminder of how important it is to... nurture them instead. After that, who knows?” I nod, glad to have been of some use—even if it’s just by setting a perfect example of how not to get on with your family.
“I understand,” I reply. “I know you’ve already broken your two-week rule, and I appreciate it. You and Betty need to be off to find your new adventures, wherever they may lie.”
I turn my gaze away, look at the bay, the sea, the nearby dustbin crammed with McDonald’s boxes. Anywhere apart from at him. At this man who has meant so much, taught me so much, changed me so much. This man who has become such a big part of my life, and who now needs to leave me.
I will beokay, I repeat silently to myself. I will be okay.This is my new life motto.
“You could always come with us?” he says quietly, and I turn my gaze back to him. I look at that face, the wide mouth, the laughter lines around his eyes. I imagine waking up and seeing it every day, and hate the way it makes me feel. How much I want something that I can’t have.
I squeeze his fingers tightly and try to find a smile. “I’m sorry,” I say simply. “But I can’t.”
