How Hard Can Love Be?

by Holly Bourne

  I thought back to the comment he’d made at the airport.

  “He’s still the worst.”

  Suddenly I wanted her to feel guilty – even though Craig wasn’t her fault. He was Penny’s fault. And Penny was Dad’s fault. Because Dad swapped Mum for a Laura-Ashley-wearing, cake-baking, pearl-clutching anti-mum.

  But Mum had left me with them… To suffocate in my home in a cloud of Penny’s Chanel No. 5, where no one had my back any more. I used to have at least the weekends with her, now I had nothing.

  Mum tactfully changed the topic, and that was new. We used to moan about the evils of Craig and Penny all the time, spending our weekends bitching and whinging, giggling like conspiratorial sisters rather than mother and daughter.

  “So tell me about college. How did your summer exams go?”

  “All right, I guess,” I said through my mouthful of beef. “I get the results when I’m back in England. I think I did okay, but it’s my portfolio that’s the most important thing for art college. I’m glad I don’t have to do General Studies any more too.”

  “What about friends? Who are you hanging out with these days?”

  I swallowed and grinned. “I’m really close to these two girls, Evie and Lottie. I met them at the start of the year and we just really clicked. Evie is…well, she’s tightly wound…” I got the intense stabbing of sadness I always get when I think of Evie. She has OCD, and had a massive relapse last year. She’s getting better though…whatever better means if you have OCD… “But she’s hilarious, and really smart and into films. And she talks like a grandma most of the time. Seriously, she actually used the word ‘yikes’ at my leaving party.”

  “They threw you a leaving party? That’s awesome.”

  I winced at the “awesome”.

  “Yeah, it was.” I didn’t mention how drunk I’d got. “And then there’s Lottie. She’s, like, a genius, but she doesn’t want to be. She wants to go to Cambridge and become prime minister, but she dresses and behaves like a hippy, all lace and crochet. She’s always protesting about something or other. You’d like her.”

  Mum took a slurp of her milkshake. “It’s great that you have a friend who believes in stuff.”

  A warm beefy feeling spread through my belly.

  “Well, actually, the three of us have formed this club. It’s like a feminism club where we meet and talk about women’s rights. We’ve campaigned for stuff too. Like, we got that horrible pop song about rape banned from being played on the college jukebox.”

  Mum put down her milkshake.

  “Really?” The corner of her mouth twitched upwards.

  “Really.” The pride blew up in me. “We call ourselves the Spinster Club. We’ve taken the word ‘spinster’ and flipped its meaning.”

  Mum looked at me, really looked at me. She reached across the booth to take my hand.

  “That makes me so proud, hon.”

  I bathed in the look she gave me. It felt so good to be…validated by her. Dad was a bit bemused by all my Spinster Club activity. Not a surprise really, considering he’d married Penny, who was half human, half talcum powder. I’d actually once overheard her telling Dad that my feminism was “a phase”.

  “So,” Mum said, swallowing another grape. “Tell me then, are there any special boys back in the UK I should know about?”

  I put my fork down. “Mum!”

  “What?”

  “I’m telling you all about my kick-ass feminist activities and you undermine it all by asking if I have a boyfriend.”

  She smiled. “Come on, I’m your mother. It’s my job to ask.”

  It’s also your job not to leave your child…

  I put my burger down as my muscles tensed up.

  Don’t ruin it don’t ruin it.

  “Well, no, there isn’t anyone. Not at the moment.”

  “None of them good enough for you?”

  More muscles tensed in my neck.

  “No, they’re all babies.”

  I couldn’t tell her, not really. That boys just…didn’t fancy me. Like, ever. Especially compared to my friends. Even when Evie had her relapse, she’d still had boys following her around college. I mean, I’d rather be unfancied than have OCD…but still… It was quite a feat of fanciability. And Lottie, well, she was like bloke catnip. I knew I wasn’t, like, completely ugly…just very noticeable. The word “intimidating” has been used multiple times by multiple people. It’s like my angry feminist rants are more unattractive because I’m tall and ginger and less pretty – whereas Lottie and Evie can get away with it. And, yeah, of course I didn’t want to give up all that important “me” stuff just so I could get touched up at a house party… But I still hadn’t even kissed anyone, and it worried me.

  I didn’t want my mum to know all this. I didn’t want to provide her with further evidence I was unloveable, because I was worried it might put her off too…

  “Don’t worry.” She stabbed two strawberries. “There’ll be plenty of boys at camp.”

  “I’m not here to meet boys, I’m here to spend the summer with you!”

  “Well I’ll be too busy, you’re going to have to make friends.”

  Too busy? Busy?! The huge amount of meat in my stomach solidified and grew heavy. I felt dread trickle through me…it was like she was already making excuses to let me down…

  No, Amber…no…don’t read too much into it…

  I crossed my arms. “I don’t HAVE to do anything.”

  “Come on, Amber, don’t be like that.”

  Like what? Myself? My bolshie normal self? The self she didn’t know? Not really. Not for two years.

  And yet I couldn’t bear her looking at me like that. Like me being like this was the reason she left.

  I forced myself to smile and took a big bite of dripping burger. It plummeted down my throat, landing with a heavy thud in my tummy.

  “I can’t wait to meet everyone,” I lied, through my meat.

  If Mum thought I’d be spending our precious summer together lusting over American boys, well, she was dead wrong.

  SITUATIONS THAT ARE DESTINED TO FAIL:

  Me

  +

  Warm welcomes

  +

  Mother-stealing bumchins

  Four

  From: LongTallAmber

  To: EvieFilmGal, LottieIsAlwaysRight

  Subject: Y’all have a good day now

  So, guys, I’m here! I’m alive! I made it to San Francisco without being arrested for public drunkenness at fifty thousand feet. Are you proud?

  I’m writing this in a cool-as-f*ck internet café overlooking the bay. I’m probably within spitting distance of ten dot-com millionaires, but I’d rather write to you girls than spit on anyone right now.

  How are you both? Sobbing over my departure I hope. I miss you both TONNES already. Everyone in America is SO WEIRD!

  Seriously, we went sightseeing this morning and I spent most of my time goggling at Americans, rather than Alcatraz or the sea lions. Like, they all wear bumbags! Well almost all of them. And they, like, come up and talk to you!? On the boat to Alcatraz, we met this couple called Sonny and Jean (I know, the most American names in the world, right?!) and by the time we got to the prison (major bummer btw), I knew all about their two kids, their holiday plans, what their favourite restaurant was. And THEN they just followed us around the whole thing like we were the best of friends. We even had to eat our sandwiches with them. And Mum didn’t care at all. In fact, she invited them to share our crisps! You can only imagine how mad I was. You know how protective I get over my snacks.

  We’re about to go to a "raw food" restaurant for lunch before we drive into the mountains. I’ve already pre-emptively eaten some sneaky chips from a KFC I found so I don’t starve to death. Seriously, Mum said the best meal at this place is spaghetti made from raw carrot strips – WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? I worry Bumface Kevin has given her a brain transplant. She also keeps going on about how "cute" the boys are at cam
p, so prepare for horror stories about me being horrifically match-made with some redneck called "Randy".

  Am I being mean? I am, aren’t I?

  It’s not like British blokes are any better. If Guy, Ethan or Teddy are anything to go by anyway…

  Please write back. I NEED YOU GUYS! Mum said there’s a computer in our cabin so we can keep the Spinster Club meetings going over the summer. I will scour Mountain Hideaway camp for any traces of inequality for us to discuss. Just let me know the dates you can do, and we’ll try and sort out the time difference.

  Gotta go. There are some raw carrots that need eating.

  Lots of love

  Amber x x x

  By early evening, the city was behind us and we were steering our way into the mountains.

  I was shattered. Jet lag had woken me at five a.m. and I’d sat in the grey light of our motel room, listening to the steady hum of the unnecessary air con, watching my mother’s sleeping body…and I’d had such a surge of memory I’d felt too sick to get back to sleep…

  …I carefully pushed the door, taking a breath first so I wouldn’t inhale the stale smell of inside. There was a lump in the bed.

  “Mum?” I asked, scared to step in closer.

  The lump turned over.

  “Mum? I need you to take me to school.”

  The lump turned again, dislodging pockets of sweet but rancid air that caught in the back of my throat. It didn’t respond.

  I closed the door and rang the taxi company.

  Dad had left money on the table in case it happened again.

  Once we hit a certain altitude, the sun appeared – as promised. The first sun I’d seen since stepping off the aeroplane. It scorched brightly, all showing-off and well-I-was-here-all-the-time-you-just-needed-to-find-me. I buzzed down the window and put my arm out, and it blew behind me in the breeze. I felt awake again. Mum pushed some tortoiseshell sunglasses down onto her delicate nose.

  “I told you the sun would find us,” she said. “Make sure you wear your factor 50 sunblock every day at camp.”

  “Mum, relax. I learned by about twelve that it was impossible for me to tan. Like ever.”

  “Just think of the smooth wrinkle-free skin you’ll have when you’re older.”

  I brought my hand back in; it was already warm from the sun. “Hardly a consolation prize for a lifetime of ginger jokes.”

  She flicked her head sideways. “Kids are still making ginger jokes?”

  I thought of college. “Seventeen-year-olds are still making ginger jokes.”

  “Well everyone will be just lovely at camp.”

  I kept peeking at her, watching her grip the wheel. She’d always been a confident driver, but it was odd seeing her so at home on foreign roads. Questions bubbled up my throat and I turned them over and over in my head, picking the ones I might get away with…that she might actually answer.

  We stopped quickly to get bottles of iced tea to sip on the road, and after downing most of mine, I took my chance, just as we pulled out of the “Rest Stop”.

  “Your wedding must’ve been nice in this weather?” I ventured, as my opener.

  The wedding I wasn’t invited to.

  She smiled, didn’t stiffen. She hadn’t caught on yet.

  “It was perfect,” she answered. And I didn’t know if she meant the weather, or the day. And if she meant the day, that meant it was perfect without me there.

  A pang, but I smiled too and delved deeper.

  “Wasn’t it weird being just you two?” I tried to make my voice all casual but I flaked on the “just”. Mum stiffened in her seat, wiggled about. She didn’t answer…not for a while. Just stared at the road like she hadn’t heard me. Then, after five minutes, she turned with a giant beaming smile, wearing it like a Band-Aid, and said, “Isn’t that iced tea just fantastic? I’m so addicted to it since I moved here.”

  Like I hadn’t said anything, like I hadn’t asked anything. When the flake in the “just” was so obviously a tell that I needed to ask it, and needed an answer.

  The iced tea curdled in my gut.

  The road gnarled its way upwards and I stared out the window. I’d never known California was so…barren. There were no trees or grass, just expanses of red dusty plains either side of the freeway, punctuated only by the odd billboard advertising Jesus. As we climbed higher into the mountains, the occasional burst of green sneaked its way into the desert, until the dust disappeared and pine trees sprouted on each side of the road.

  “We’re almost there.” Mum’s eyes didn’t stray from the swerves in the road. “If you carry on straight you get to Lake Tahoe, which is just gorgeous. We’re on a different lake. Still beautiful though.”

  My stomach twisted and dived with each bump in the tarmac. I was getting nervous. I hadn’t given a huge amount of thought to camp, and fellow campers, or the art class I was supposed to be teaching, or anything really. Well, anything that wasn’t backlit fantasies of Mum and me bonding together on a mountain and her promising to come home or something. I hated meeting new people. When I’m nervous I’m always…snappy with people and come across as rude, or superior… Well that’s what people tell me. Lottie and Evie were the first people I’d met who liked me instantly, rather than having to warm up to me.

  Even worse, I’d have to see Bumface Kevin again, and live with him. I’d not seen him since I’d screamed at him, saying he’d ruined my life. He took Mum away on a plane two days later. I bet not inviting me to the wedding was payback for that. Not that she’d tell me… Not even if I asked.

  Mum indicated and we turned into this weenie gap in the trees. We passed a weathered sign: Welcome to Mountain Hideaway Camp. My guts clumped together like a wodge of chewing gum.

  “We’re home,” Mum said, as we rumbled over a speed bump. I was almost too busy freaking out to notice she’d called it “home”.

  We hummed past tiny pathways leading into the dense woods and passed wooden signs pointing towards nightmare scenarios like paintball and water sports. I’d forgotten camp included hells such as these. Forgotten, or deliberately pushed it from my brain.

  “You’re about to get your first glimpse of the water.”

  I spotted it glittering between the pine trees and then we emerged from the canopy and saw it in all its lakey glory.

  Even I could see it was beautiful. The water was so blue it was like the whole lake was made out of denim. Each ripple glistened golden as the huge honking sun hit the water. A black, weathered pier cut the water in two. It was just stunning… Well, if you ignored the banana boat, the assortment of jet skis floating about, and a few other “fun” instruments that looked like my worst nightmare realized.

  “It’s beautiful,” I admitted, reluctantly. For a split second, I could see why she’d left grey old England behind.

  We turned away from the lake and drove up a well-built road, passing a collection of giant huts. “The rec hall, the medic cabin,” Mum explained. The road turned to dust again and narrowed. We stopped at the end. Bumface Kevin stood there grinning outside a cabin, and waving. I slouched lower in my seat. Then realized I should probably make an effort for Mum’s sake, so I corrected myself.

  He opened my car door before we’d even stopped properly.

  “Amber, you made it!” He leaned in and hugged me, enveloping me with his earthy piney stench. I stiffened.

  “Hi, Kevin.” I was proud for omitting the “Bumface”.

  He let go and stepped out of the truck.

  “Your mom has been so excited about you coming, and so have I.”

  He was lying – he must be lying. He was such a fake! He tried to come across all caring-carington, I look after ickle children, and I have a counselling qualification, and I look after recovering whatnots – when really he was all I poach recovering whatnots from their families and move them abroad. I concentrated on unbuckling my seatbelt and jumped as delicately as I could down from the truck.

  “Wow, you’ve grown. I didn’t ev
en think that was possible.”

  Must. Resist. The. Urge. To. Pull. A. Face.

  He looked just the same. Ginger too, which annoyed me, as I didn’t want anyone to think he was my dad. Messy stubble. Hair too long for someone his age.

  “She’s five eleven now, aren’t you, Amber? Just like your mom,” Mum said, and hugged Kevin harder than she’d hugged me at the airport…

  “Shall we show you the cabin then? You’re getting the VIP treatment staying with us. The other counsellors have to bunk up and sleep with the kids. They’re all having a fire by the lake this evening. You should go… After we’ve finished catching up with you of course.”

  Mum had already explained that I couldn’t do certain things for legal reasons, like not being responsible for the children in their dorms, as I was under eighteen. I also wasn’t allowed to be left alone in charge of them, which was just fine with me.

  Kevin picked up my case and carried it down a small path lined with daisies. “Home sweet home,” he said, as he opened the door to the cabin. All smug and proud of himself. There was nothing I could do but follow him and Mum into their love shack.

  It was admittedly cosy inside. Wide glass windows looked out onto the forest and the walls were made of corkboard. Vases of wild forest flowers stood on most available surfaces. I wondered if Bumface Kevin had arranged them, as I’d never seen Mum put anything in a vase my whole life.

  “Living room,” Kevin gestured towards the sofa. “Kitchen. Our bedroom is through there.” He pointed to a door past the bathroom.

  Our bedroom? They shared a bed and bedroom. I mean, I know that’s totally obvious but it still felt so wrong. I distracted myself by looking for a photo of me in the house. I couldn’t see one. There were at least eight of Mum and Kevin – boating in a raft, in front of the Hollywood Sign, in front of a campfire and surrounded by grinning campers. And, in a gold gilt frame, was their wedding photo. Just the two of them – Mum wearing a light yellow dress, clutching Kevin’s hand in front of some lake somewhere. She’d emailed it over two weeks after she’d left, without even an apology for not asking me to come. I picked up the photo and put it down quickly. She’d never looked happier. No Amber in a frame though. I felt like crying.