by Sarah Morgan
Why was she always the one who had to deal with these moments?
She’d give anything to swap places with Sean. She’d take a picky adult over a teenager in a tantrum any day.
“Can we go?” Alice tugged her sleeve. “People wear anything on their last day. No one cares.”
“Do people wear barely anything? Because that seems to be the look your sister is going for.” Liza looked at her daughter’s sleek bare thighs as she folded herself into the car.
She really ought to stand firm on this one, but Alice was right. If she stood her ground and argued they would all be late, her included. It wasn’t fair to expect her colleagues to cover her classes because her daughter was determined to make life as difficult as possible.
Shame washed over her.
She was allowing herself to be manipulated, and she’d almost given up caring. She was too tired to resist.
Defeated, she locked the front door and drove to school.
Caitlin scowled from under her fringe for the short journey and the moment Liza stopped the car she sprang out and headed through the gates, all sweet smiles and waves when she saw her friends.
“Bye, Mum.” Alice slammed the car door behind her and followed her sister.
Liza sat in the silence of the car and then glanced back at the twins. Caitlin was now convulsed with laughter, arms round her friends. Less than fifteen minutes earlier she’d behaved as if her life was over. Now she looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
Hurt slid into her.
Breathe, Liza, breathe.
They’d come through this phase, as they had all the others. One day she’d laugh at it. Would she?
She wanted so badly to be close to them. She’d never wanted them to think I wish I was closer to my mother, as she so often did. But they didn’t seem interested.
What was she to them? She was a chauffeur, a housekeeper, a chef.
And whose fault was that?
Liza swallowed. What had her mother said? Which part of your life is for you and no one else?
The answer was none of it.
She forced herself to take a hard, brutal look at the truth. Gradually, over time, they’d learned to expect her to do things for them. They didn’t see it as an act of love. They took advantage. Where are my jeans? Have we run out of milk?
The girls didn’t appreciate her affection or her interest. Stop the inquisition, Mum.
All she had to show for the last sixteen years of homemaking was two young women who expected her to cook their meals, do their laundry and be at their beck and call.
Right on cue, her phone rang.
Caitlin.
Liza reached out to take the call and then changed her mind. No. If she wasn’t always available, maybe the girls would start thinking for themselves.
She let the call go to voice mail and immediately felt anxious. What if it was an emergency? Or what if Caitlin wanted to apologize for her rude, selfish behavior?
Hating herself for not being stronger, she checked the message.
“Mum!” Caitlin’s voice barked down the phone. “I’ve forgotten to bring the school drama cup from home and it’s the last day. I’ll lose house points if I don’t, and everyone will hate me. I need you to drop it into reception at lunchtime.” There were giggles in the background and then the phone went dead.
Please, Mum. Thank you, Mum.
I love you, Mum.
Liza stuffed her phone into her bag.
It was time to make changes. And no doubt she’d pay a high price for that and life would be stressful for a while, but no matter how much unpleasantness her actions caused she wasn’t going to budge.
Fueled by anger and hurt, she drove to the school where she taught and arrived in the staff room just before the bell.
“One more day.” Her colleague Andrew was pouring hot water onto instant coffee. “The summer cannot come soon enough. You look stressed—everything okay?”
Everything was not okay, but she wasn’t going to say anything. She was upset, but that didn’t mean she was ready to discuss her teenagers in the staff room. Also, the conversation wouldn’t reflect well on her and she was already feeling like a bad mother without needing reinforcement from others.
“End of the school year. You know how it is.”
He probably had no idea how it was, but this was a staff room not a psychiatrist’s waiting room. Confessions weren’t appropriate.
He stirred sugar into his coffee. “You doing anything exciting this summer, Liza?”
Washing. Cleaning. Cooking. Organizing. Loading the dishwasher.
“Liza?”
She gave a start. “Sean is working on a big job right now, and then we’re going to France. You?”
“Jen and I are having two weeks touring the Greek Islands. First trip without the kids. Can’t wait.”
“You’re not taking the kids?” Liza decided she didn’t have time to wait for her coffee to cool, so she drank a glass of water instead.
“Phoebe has tennis camp, and Rory got a place on a youth orchestra so they’re both going to be away for the same two weeks. Jenny and I thought we’d make the most of it. Enjoy some couple time, you know?”
No, she didn’t know. But she’d dearly love to find out. But would that solve her problem? Maybe not. The truth was, she felt lonely. She didn’t feel close to her mother, she wasn’t close to the girls, and right now she didn’t feel close to her husband.
Andrew blew on his coffee. “Your girls doing anything this summer?”
“Two weeks of theater workshops but living at home.”
Hardly a holiday by any stretch of the imagination.
Andrew ate a chocolate chip cookie, even though it was technically still breakfast time. “You and Sean going away by yourselves?”
“No.” Even if she’d wanted to, how could they trust the girls after what had happened the last time? As it was, she was going to be doing favors for her neighbors for the rest of her life to compensate.
And she no longer had any confidence that the twins were capable of looking after themselves.
She was planning to go to Oakwood Cottage at some point in order to check on Popeye as she’d promised her mother, but she had no idea how she was going to make that work. They would all have to go, which would stress Sean who couldn’t afford to take the time off right now.
“See you later, Andrew.”
She taught her morning classes, allowing the students latitude because they were excited about it being the last day.
At lunchtime she joined her colleagues in the staff room for a final lunch.
She had three missed calls from Caitlin, all of which she ignored. If she’d had an accident the school would have called.
This was her last opportunity for adult conversation for a while, and on balance she’d rather hear about Wendy’s new herb garden than chase through lunchtime traffic to pick up the trophy Caitlin should have remembered herself.
It was time to get tough. Not by grounding them, or removing privileges as she’d done up until now, but by forcing them to take responsibility. She should have done it before now.
“I can’t believe you didn’t bring the trophy.” It was the first thing Caitlin said when she walked through the door. “I called and called. Why didn’t you pick up the phone?”
“I was teaching.”
“But you always answer the phone, in case it’s an emergency.”
“It never is an emergency.” Would Sean be home early? She could use some moral support.
And then she remembered. Drinks. Which meant that she was here alone with the girls.
Happy Anniversary, Liza.
Caitlin was still giving a performance worthy of the drama award. “I could have been bleeding to death.”
“But you weren
’t.” Liza opened the fridge. “You’re the one who forgot it, Caitlin. You need to be more organized.”
“But I asked you to bring it! That’s being organized.”
Teenage logic.
“I was working.”
“But you could have driven home at lunchtime.”
No one asked her how her day had been, or how she was feeling. No one cared.
Her insides felt hollow. She missed her mother. How ridiculous was that? She wasn’t any closer to her mother than she was to her children but right now she felt closer. It was that conversation in the car. That strange, surprising conversation where her mother had been kind, and praised her. Liza had thought about it a lot. She’d come close to breaking down and telling her mother everything. Not because she was close to her mother, but because there was no one else she felt able to talk to.
She missed intimacy. She missed feeling as if she was special to someone.
Liza closed the fridge slowly. Why had she opened it? She couldn’t remember.
Her head was full of her own mistakes.
She’d been determined to create a warm, comfortable home and to be the attentive loving mother she’d dreamed of having herself, but what she’d done was create the equivalent of a five-star hotel with room service.
She was a one-woman concierge. A fixer.
And the worst part was, they didn’t even notice. They were so used to having everything done for them it never even entered their heads to do it themselves. They complained about the service. If this had been a paid position, Caitlin probably would have fired her.
She felt a moment of something close to panic. She’d been so sure—smug—that she was a much better parent than her own mother. But she’d left home able to look after herself, because she’d been doing it since she was young. It never would have crossed her mind to demand that her mother drive to fetch something she’d forgotten. She either wouldn’t have forgotten it, or she would have figured out a way to get it herself.
She’d failed her children. A parent was supposed to raise a child to be independent. Respectful of another person’s time. And what had she done? She’d raised them to yell for their mother when there was no pizza in the freezer or when a strap top had gone missing from the laundry.
How were they going to cope when they left home?
And how was she going to cope right now?
She felt as if her head was exploding. There was a crushing weight on her chest and breathing felt difficult.
The long-awaited summer stretched ahead, but it was going to be more of the same.
She would soothe and smooth until all the lives of the various members of her family were wrinkle-free. It was what she did.
“Can we order pizza tonight?” Alice pushed her sports bag into the laundry room. “As a celebration?”
“How about ordering from that amazing Thai restaurant?” Caitlin ate a yogurt from the fridge and left the empty container on the countertop. “Or maybe Indian.”
What would you like, Mum? Let’s let Mum choose.
Enough!
Ignoring the empty yogurt container, Liza walked out of the kitchen and was halfway up the stairs by the time Caitlin caught up with her.
“Mum? We’ve decided on pizza. What toppings do you want?”
Liza headed for the bedroom. “No takeaway. You and Alice can make something from the fridge.”
“What? Why?” Alarmed, Caitlin followed her into the bedroom, watching as Liza pulled out an overnight bag and started throwing in some clothes. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”
“Away.” Liza swept her toiletries out of the bathroom and into the bag without bothering to filter them.
Alice appeared in the doorway. “What’s going on?”
“Mum’s going away.”
“Right now? You never said anything. Is Dad going too?”
“No.” Liza stuffed a pair of shoes into her bag. “Dad is at a work event. And someone has to stay with you.”
“But where are you going? You never go away without Dad.”
Another thing that had to change.
Liza grabbed her keys and money. “I’m driving to Oakwood tonight.”
“Why?” Alice frowned. “Granny isn’t even there.”
“I know. Granny is probably drinking cocktails on a rooftop bar in Chicago, because she’s sensible and knows how to enjoy life.” I’m a novice at that, Liza thought, but I’m going to learn. “I’m going to check on Popeye and have some time for myself.”
She could see the girls looking at each other, trying to figure out how serious this was. For once their mother seemed to be following her own agenda, and that was so alien to them they had no idea how to handle it.
“Does Dad know you’re going?”
“I’m going to write him a note right now.” She snatched a pen from her bag and found a scrap of paper.
Sean, I’ve decided to go to Oakwood. I want to check on the house, the cat, and spend some time there. She almost scribbled, keep an eye on the girls, but then remembered she was going to stop organizing other people’s lives. Let him decide whether he needed to keep an eye on them, or not. Should she wish him Happy Anniversary? No, that would be petty, and he might think this was all about the fact he’d forgotten when it went so much deeper than that. Instead she signed off Love Liza x.
She left the note on the pillow, proud that she hadn’t given way to her inner toddler who was ready to yell, You forgot our anniversary.
Caitlin looked alarmed. “But what are we supposed to do?”
“Do about what?” Liza transferred her purse, phone and car keys to a bag that didn’t remind her of work. Did she have everything she needed? Probably not, but the most important thing was to leave before she changed her mind. Her sense of responsibility was already tapping on the edges of her conscience. Hello, remember me?
Liza ignored the tapping. Just because someone knocked on the door, didn’t mean you had to open it.
“We have lots going on this week,” Caitlin said. “Summer activities. You always drive us. What about lunches?”
“Figure it out. Think of it as another summer activity, only instead of learning tennis, or drama, you’ll be learning self-sufficiency.” Liza grabbed the books she’d been saving for France and tucked them into her bag.
“But the difference is that tennis and drama are, like, fun.”
“Life can’t always be fun. There’s a lesson right there. A good life is a balance between doing what you have to do and what you want to do. I’m sure you’re both going to rise to the challenge.” And so was she. She was going to take a close look at the balance in her own life.
“But if you’re not cooking and we can’t order pizza, what do we eat tonight?”
“That’s up to you.” For the first time she was giving them neither the menu, nor the ingredients. “Be creative.”
“We’ll probably die of malnutrition.” Caitlin, the drama queen.
“I doubt that.” Liza carried her bag to the door. Was this too extreme? Was she overreacting? By leaving them to cope alone would she simply increase her workload when she returned?
“But when will you be back?” Alice added her voice to her sister’s. “There’s always so much to do before our holiday.”
Liza paused in the doorway. “And I’m the one who does all of it. Right now, I’m not sure I have the energy.”
Ignoring Alice’s shocked expression, she headed down the stairs and opened the front door. The car sat in the drive like a friend, waiting to whisk her away. On impulse she opened the garage, pulled out a large box and loaded it into the car.
Alice and Caitlin hovered on the doorstep.
“You said you didn’t trust us after what happened last time.”
They didn’t want her to leave, but Liza knew that right
now that had less to do with affection and more to do with the fact that she was inconveniencing them.
“You think I’m controlling, and you want me to leave you alone so that’s what I’m doing. Consider this to be an advanced course in Looking After Yourself. I expect you to graduate with top marks.”
“But—” Alice looked alarmed. “You’ll be back for France, right?”
Would she?
Liza slung her bag into the car and slid into the driver’s seat, feeling liberated. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she had only herself to think about.
She turned off her phone.
“Wait!” Caitlin hammered on her window. “You didn’t answer the question about France.”
Because she didn’t have the answer. All she knew for sure was that she needed to get away. She needed to do something for herself. And so far that felt good.
Liza opened the window a crack. “Behave yourselves.”
With a quick wave to the girls, she reversed out of the drive.
Next stop Oakwood Cottage.
Her mother wasn’t the only one going on a road trip. Hers might not be considered glamorous by comparison, but right now it felt like the biggest adventure of her life.
Happy Anniversary, Liza.
9
KATHLEEN
CHICAGO~PONTIAC
At the same time Liza was leaving on her road trip, Kathleen and Martha were leaving on theirs.
Kathleen was unsure whether to attribute the throbbing in her head to her rather reckless ingestion of alcohol or the six-hour time difference. Either way she was secretly relieved to be leaving Chicago behind after two nights. It was all so large and loud and contributed to an excess of stimulation which did nothing to ease her headache.
Martha had spent the free day sightseeing while Kathleen had stayed in the hotel and enjoyed the city from the relative peace of her balcony, her comfort enhanced by the delightful young man who brought her room service order.
Peace had been shattered when Martha had burst back into the room (on the fourth attempt because she seemed not to have a natural affinity to key cards), bubbling with stories and excitement. She’d seen this, been there, tasted this, met this person, did Kathleen know that...
