by Rae Earl
“Millie. We are going back to Canada at the end of this term. For good.”
You know when someone’s lips move and they are talking, but it’s not really going in your head? That’s what’s happening now.
Eventually my mouth moves.
“No, my dad is going. Not you! Are you feeling okay? Is your temperature up again? Do you want me to get your mum?”
For this first time in my life, I seriously consider giving Aunty Teresa a call to ask her about medical conditions that can make you a) wear your bedding and b) act delirious. As Danny’s mum was acting strange, too, it might be contagious. Perhaps they’ve been incubating it for months.
I sit back a bit. I don’t want to catch it.
Danny gets up and starts pacing around the room. His duvet now looks like a thick superhero cape. He rubs his hands together and inhales through his teeth.
It’s then I realize. This isn’t raccoon virus or maple leaf fever. This is anxiety. This looks like the start of a panic attack. The moment when your head realizes it is in at the deep end, and your body starts doing things by itself you don’t even realize. I, more than anyone, should have been able to recognize this.
Danny crouches down so that his face is level with mine. He looks me directly in the eye.
“No, I wasn’t ill. I just couldn’t face you. That’s what the big family meeting was about. Leaving. I didn’t know what to say. Especially after your dad announced his news.”
“What?” I can’t quite get this in my head. “When are you going?”
Danny pulls the duvet over his head so he is completely eaten by it. He says something, but he’s muffled.
I can’t believe I’m even saying this. “Danny, please come out of your blanket cave and tell me what the hell is going on.”
Danny emerges and sits beside me. For the next ten minutes I get the full story. His dad came home, gathered the family together, and told them that he’d been offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It was his ultimate job. Apparently, he’s had a mortal enemy in the same industry for years who always got the positions he wanted. He was always second best. This person has finally decided that she wants to travel the world for eighteen months so, whilst she’s in Thailand, Danny’s dad can finally get this dream gig. The problem is, it’s in Toronto, and it starts in a few weeks. Each member of the family had to vote yes or no. Everyone voted yes.
“Everyone?” I ask. “Even you?”
Danny sighs. “Sorry, Millie. Yes. Even me. Dad has worked so hard, and I couldn’t deny him. I knew this place was only ever going to be temporary. I just didn’t know it was going to be this fast. I’m not happy about it, either.”
I’m upset and outraged. In fact, I am many emotions in one handy package.
“You’ve only been here five minutes. Why even bother coming to school?!” I yell.
This isn’t nice, but I’m having trouble taking everything in.
Danny puts the duvet over his head again. It must be his security blanket. I go close to him so I can hear him.
“This is how my life is, Millie. I’m used to dropping into schools and dropping out again. It’s not this quick normally, but it is different this time. We’ll stay. Dad says this one is the big one. The last one. Pension. Condo. The whole package.”
I don’t really care about this. The last one and the big one is in Toronto. Anything that involves a plane journey is not good news. Also, I am not used to dropping in and out. I’ve been around this area all of my life. I don’t like change.
“But what about us?” I plead.
Danny is trying to make me feel better. “You just said it—about how you keep in contact with your dad. It’s fine! We can still see each other every day. We can talk all the time. We can keep us going through THIS.”
He holds up his ancient phone.
He doesn’t sound convinced, and his phone does not look convincing. In fact, this was the phone he once lost. He retraced his steps and realized he’d put it down in the supermarket. He went back to the store, and they’d found it and locked it away in a cupboard. When the young assistant handed it to him, she said, “Aww! Bless! You’ve recycled your nan’s old iPhone!”
It’s the sort of phone you can’t properly update anymore. It’s not the sort of phone that can sustain a relationship.
I can’t help myself—I start crying. OH GOD, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?! Then Danny starts crying. We are an official blub-fest.
“Mills! No, no! I’ve had long-distance relationships before, and I’ve made them work.”
Strangely, this does not make me feel better.
“Hello!” I shout. “What about me? They must have ended for me to be your girlfriend! UNLESS you have a global network of women?”
This does sound ridiculous and we both smile a bit till I start crying again. I know Canada is Danny’s home. I know that he wants to and needs to be with his family. It’s all fair. It just SUCKS.
I need to get back in control of things. I let my anger take over a bit from my sadness. I’m sick of feeling lousy.
“I need you to know, Danny, that I’ve given up a lot for you.”
Danny stands back a bit.
“Have you? What?” he says irritably.
This is a good question and I’m not quite sure of the answer, so I say the first thing that pops into my head.
“Important time with my cat!”
We both laugh at this and spend the next few hours chatting till Mrs. Trudeau, who is clearly very stressed, tells Danny that he needs to have a wardrobe audit as their “container doesn’t have that much space.” I tell Danny that I better go as, in my experience, mums go from stress to fury in under a minute.
Just as I’m leaving, Danny whispers, “Do you mind if I talk to Dave separately? We’ve built a relationship up and I just want to be able to talk to her without you listening.”
“I think we can arrange that,” I tell him. “It’s important to consider her feelings.”
Why am I being so sensible about this? DANNY IS GOING AWAY! FOREVER! I should be hysterical.
#NothingFirm
I slouch home feeling completely miserable. On the way, just to make my walk a bit more interesting, I open my phone and I find another e-mail from Lydia Portancia. I know you’re not meant to walk and think but I don’t care.
Hello Millie.
I see your subscriber numbers are back up! See! This is what happens when you put yourself in the big league. You’re fast becoming a really big name in this business. Up the production values and you up those numbers! So excited to see your next vlog! L x
Not so long ago, all this would have thrilled me. Right now, I feel like replying,
“Dear Lydia!
Nearly everyone I remotely care about is leaving me. No one is developing supersonic travel seriously and can I tell you what I’ve noticed? Mum says troubles come in threes, but actually, men LEAVE in threes. Dad, Gary, and now Danny are all going and I DON’T CARE ABOUT MY VLOG AND I’M NEVER WEARING PROFESSIONAL MAKEUP AGAIN!”
But I am sensible and a coward so I just reply by saying, “Thanks,” with three kisses. I don’t like myself for this.
Mum says kisses are not professional, but I like to spread the love with random letters. Especially because I feel like I’ve given out too much negativity generally. Am I changing into a two-dimensional user?
It’s hard to not think karma is kicking me very hard in the butt.
I flick through Instagram and realize cosmic revenge is happening.
Erin has posted an incredible photo of herself in a space-glamour pose. She’s managed to make herself look as though she’s falling through space with some kind of epic starry background. She’s got different-colored contacts. Her eyes look otherworldly. Underneath, she’s written …
Off the planet with happiness today. My latest look—Universe Girl TM. Delighted to announce that I’m represented by Lydia Portancia. Follow me on insta and youtube for future tutorials on getting t
his and other new looks XX
Erin already has nearly as many followers as me and it’s compliments central with minimal trolling.
Now, I shouldn’t feel jealous or angry, but I do.
At times like this I need my best friend.
I text her. I keep it factual because if I don’t I will end up sobbing in the street. There’s nothing wrong with crying, but my face aches from it.
I fire off the message.
Danny is going back to Canada. Permanently. And Erin is massive on Instagram and now we have the same agent.
Lauren calls me immediately.
“No!” Lauren squeals. “That’s terrible. How did she manage that?!”
I think Lauren is focusing on the wrong thing here.
“By being fantastic at what she does! But that’s not the crisis— Danny!!”
“Is that the end, then?” Lauren asks.
“No! We’re going to have a long-distance relationship!”
“Aw! Great, Millie.” Lauren sounds completely unsure. “It’s just that … that is going to be challenging.”
This hesitation annoys me. I need total confidence. Challenging is the word we are told to use at school instead of the words difficult or impossible or hard. But we ALL know it means those things.
“No, I think we can do it. Seriously, I think we can keep our passion alive!”
This sounds ridiculous, but I’m not really thinking about what I’m saying at the moment. The paper shredder in my head that eats information is stuck. Everyone has tried to put too much in it. I’m malfunctioning.
Lauren then decides to say something that is both very silly and very annoying, but only because, in the back of my brain that is going wrong, I think it might be true.
“You know what?” she says slowly. It sounds like she is burping her brains. “Your life is like a soap at the moment. Perhaps it’s the curse … the curse of the vlog!”
What? I am regretting calling her a bit.
“I don’t know—it’s just weird that all this has happened to you. It’s like the universe is trying to teach you something.”
I can’t deal with philosophy right now, Lauren.
Lauren pauses. “Just remember, Millie, the more time you spend thinking about yourself the more you will suffer. My dad said it to me. Must have been in one of those weird books he reads, as he reckons a llama said it.”
Lauren means the Dalai Lama. He’s not a llama. He’s one of the world’s wisest men. Lauren gets mixed up with things like this, but I love her for it.
There’s a pause. Lauren’s brain is going other planet. I can hear it over the phone. I wish I had the ability to do this. She can just fly off to other head realms and leave the lands of annoying parents and disappearing boyfriends behind.
She’s on one now.
“Wouldn’t it be amazing if animals did start talking and they could tell us ALL their knowledge. A guru shark! Actually, no, that doesn’t work. Never go near anything that wants you for breakfast. And dinner. And a snack.”
Lauren can always make me smile when I need to feel better. Eventually, she comes back to earth.
“I’m sorry, Mills. Do you want me to come over?”
I tell her no. I just want to go home, eat some chocolate, and hibernate.
“Do it!” Lauren squeals. “I’ll come to yours over the weekend. My dad is coming anyway. He’s doing more bathroom stuff, I think. I think your mum likes the company.”
#Roaming
I drag myself into the house. Mum is home early. When I start crying, she thinks it’s about Dad.
“Look, Millie, you think this is new territory, but you’ve been through all this before. It’s fine. You’ll be able to cope. Your dad was never, and never will be, the kind of man who sticks around. He has a peri … peri … peripatetic lifestyle!” Mum shouts. She’s pleased with herself because she’s remembered the long word she always uses for Dad. It means you never stay in one place for long. It also sounds a bit like “pathetic,” which is how I feel right now.
“Mum. Danny must be peri-peri then, because he’s leaving, too!”
Mum says, “Oh, darling! We aren’t doing very well, are we?”
I don’t really know what this “we” means, but I know that Mum calling me “darling” and being lovely to me always makes me cry even more than someone being nasty to me.
Mum gives me a huge hug. “Look, Millie! You’re going to have…”
PLEASE no, not the men speech. The “you’re going to have lots of boyfriends and you’ll get your heart broken, but you’ll be fine!” speech. She has a set of these—it’s like a head full of TED Talks ready to go.
I let Mum finish. You can’t stop her once she’s started.
“That’s all very well, Mum, but right now I only want one boy and he’s going.”
“I won’t lecture you!” Mum says solemnly (too late!). “I’ll just get the luxury ice cream out.”
Comfort eating is sensible at a time like this. Mum and me have a spoon each, take turns, and polish it all off.
As I’m fishing out the final chocolate chip from the crease in the tub (they always hide there!), Granddad texts.
Your dad has got a cheap last-minute flight. Come around tomorrow to say good-bye. It’s not good-bye, it’s au revoir.
My dad is leaving TOMORROW. I now know why he hasn’t told me himself. He hates the thought of upsetting me. Honestly, if it were up to him, I’d think he’d just go and call me from Ibiza. I feel like telling everyone how deadly serious my life is so I do. I message back.
I’ll be around. Dad is going, and now my boyfriend is going back to Canada, too. I think the universe is trying to tell me something.
Granddad replies very fast for someone with rheumatism.
It’s not the universe. It’s just life. Get used to it. Now what’s this flag?
This sounds harsh, but this is Granddad. Attached to the message is an image of a flag with a smiley sun on it. I’m not in the mood for trivia, but I text back.
Argentina
Granddad is straight on it.
Being sad hasn’t affected your brain. Good girl. People come and go. Knowledge is forever.
I know this is Granddad’s way of trying to cheer me up, but you can’t go to the prom with a fact or wearing a flag. Unless it’s China. That’s just red with a splat of yellow. You could pretend that little bit was a corsage.
My brain is designing dresses from flags. I need some sleep.
#Good-ByeDad
When I get to Granddad’s house the next day, Dad is all packed. He doesn’t have a suitcase. He has a huge shabby green duffel bag. He collects patches of where he has been. The bag is covered. He’s been everywhere. The only continent he hasn’t visited is Antarctica, and that’s only because budget airlines don’t fly there.
I have hardly been anywhere. I get anxiety going to the next city. I know he’s a lot older than me, but I don’t think I’ll ever have the bravery to do what he’s done and what he does. Not without a brain and body transplant. I can be brave on-screen but not off.
“Right, my fabulous daughter!” Dad exclaims. “Got a flight that leaves at three a.m., so I have to leave for the airport soon.”
This announcement makes me burst into tears. I’m SICK of being upset. I’m tired of good-byes. My face feels like a constant puddle. This is partly sobs at Dad, and mostly still the eye miseries from Danny, to be honest.
Aunty Teresa suddenly appears with a paper bag.
“Don’t worry, everyone! Millie is having a minor panic attack. Millie, sit yourself down in an upright position and breathe in and breathe out.”
This does not help at all.
“I’m not having a panic attack of any size. I’m just upset!” I yell.
Granddad stares at me. “She’s just having a mild attack of being a girl!”
This makes me furious, but I manage to say gently, “Granddad! People in the marines cry! It’s not a female thing. It’s fine. D
idn’t you cry when Grandma died?!”
Why does this come out of my mouth? It’s true but it’s a bit mean. I’m not me. Whoever me is right now. It seems to change from hour to hour.
Granddad quivers a bit and mumbles, “Yes. But dead is different than Ibiza, Millie.”
I apologize immediately and try to hug Granddad, but he folds up like a cardboard box.
The whole situation gets a bit tense. Dad brings it back around to him.
“Look, Millie, you know how this works now. I’m not that far away. And there’s Messenger and WhatsApp and all that. How are things going with you?”
I try to put a positive spin on things.
“Bad. No, good—well, as Granddad has probably told you, my boyfriend is leaving and I get trolls on my vlog that say evil things and upset me. But I’m finding ways to work through it.”
“Here’s a thing, Millie,” Dad whispers like he is telling me some huge secret of life. “If someone upsets you, blank them. Ghost them. Pretend they don’t exist!”
This is a stupid suggestion made by someone who still thinks it’s 1995, but has learned the term “ghosting” by reading something on Reddit. I try to explain why it doesn’t work that way. With Dad it’s like I’m the adult.
“No. You can’t shut down everything in life that hurts and sweep all your feelings under the carpet. You seem to run away from everything that might cause pain. I’m not being Dr. Phil, but why don’t you just face up to the fact you are going away and we are going to miss each other and that HURTS. DEAL WITH THE REALITY!”
Dad tilts his head down and looks a bit shamefaced.
“Yes!” Teresa yells. “You HAVE to face up to your DEEP emotions, deal with them, and move on. This is why I looked up Marie Castellanos on Facebook! She made my life hell at school. I found her profile photo and shouted at it and then I moved on. I was cleansed of her bad energy and my past pain. She’s a dental nurse now. I bet she loves seeing people in agony! She’s just got back from Florida.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
Teresa pulls a face. “Obviously, I’ve had to look her up regularly to check she’s not after me.”
