Page 31 of In the Same Boat

‘I am happy for you,’ I insist. ‘And I’m being supportive.’

‘I know, and I appreciate it,’ he replies. ‘I know that this must be strange for you too. I just want to do right by you, and by your mum, and…’

His voice trails off.

‘Mum always said she wanted you to be happy,’ I remind him. ‘She said you were young, that you needed to keep living.’

‘I don’t feel young,’ he says. Then he thinks for a moment. ‘Well, I didn’t, until I spent time with Chrissy. As cliché as it sounds, she makes me feel young again.’

‘Dad, it’s okay, I get it,’ I tell him. ‘You want to spend time with her, that’s fine by me, I’m happy for you – just don’t expect me to be your taxi service.’

He laughs.

‘How the tables have turned, eh? I was always your taxi service. I never thought I’d see the day you were returning the favour.’

‘Yeah, well, like I said, don’t get used to it.’

‘I’ll always have time for you, you know,’ he reassures me.

‘I know that,’ I reply – I do, that’s half the problem. He has too much time for me at the moment.

‘In fact, I’ve got a few ideas of some things we can do, ways we can spend a bit of time together, if you fancy it?’

‘Sounds good,’ I reply.

I’m more than happy for him to spend time with whoever he wants, but I appreciate that he’s thinking of me, making an effort to spend time with me, not ditching me at the first sign of a woman. All the more reason why I want him to be truly happy.

‘Well, we’ll start with my buying you a pizza,’ he tells me. ‘And if I’m already tipsy, and I’ve got a designated driver, I might as well have a few beers, right?’

‘You might as well,’ I echo.

It is good to see him happy, and so long as he stays that way, he can do what he wants, he can like who he likes, he can see how things go.

If he wants to see Chrissy again, that’s great. He can go where he wants, when he wants, and – jokes aside – I’m even happy to drop him off and pick him up from time to time. That’s all completely fine… so long as I don’t have to spend time with her daughter. That’s where I draw the line.

7

SAMMIE

‘How do you feel about a holiday?’ Mum asks out of the blue.

‘Can I finish my cereal first?’ I check.

She just laughs at me.

‘You should let me cook for you – I can’t believe you’re having that.’

She nods towards my bowl, looking at it like it’s a sandwich I found on the pavement. Actually, scratch that, she would probably think that was more nutritious.

‘Well, I assumed you would have eaten with your fancy man,’ I clap back, trying not to overthink how that sounds. ‘I thought you would be too busy to make me dinner, so I’m happy to make my own, thanks.’

Yes, I know, I sound like a stroppy teenager, but let’s be real. She’s making me feel like one. I like to think I’m a grown adult, but discovering my mum upstairs with a man, eww, I can’t shake off the cringe. I want to be grown-up about it, really, I do, but regrettably, I can’t. And I don’t suppose eating cereal for dinner is helping.

Again, she laughs.

‘Sweetheart, calling that making yourself dinner is a stretch…’

‘It has milk added to it,’ I insist.