The Things That Matter

by Andrea Michael

  I was going to continue. I’d cook steak for dinner, open a nice bottle of wine and we’d sit down and talk everything out. I could fix this. It was my life, my marriage. I could control this. Yes, I was tired and a bit broken. I wasn’t the spirited, driven woman I was before, but as long as I tried hard enough, I could do it.

  On the kitchen counter I noticed the pile of post I’d collected when I came back from the shops. I rifled through, wondering if there were any more birthday cards, perhaps from my old colleagues. There was only one that wasn’t a bill, my name and address written in bright blue ink. On the back of the envelope, the return address was in Scotland. The Highlands. I couldn’t think of anyone we knew there.

  The card was an artsy black and white photo of some sunflowers in a vase, the type you’d find in a museum.

  Inside it read:

  Happy birthday Natasha,

  * * *

  I hope this year brings you all the things you deserve.

  * * *

  I know there’s never a good time to reach out with things like this, but I’m not very well and I’d really like to make amends.

  * * *

  I know that’s probably not fair of me to ask, and I’m sorry about that.

  * * *

  I’d really like to see you, if you were willing.

  * * *

  Love,

  Mum

  xxx

  I actually forgot to breathe.

  I dropped into one of the bar stools, reading the sparse words over and over, as if each line might reveal a secret coded message, something that made more sense than the one she’d actually written.

  If you had let me guess who sent a mystery birthday card, my mother wouldn’t have even made the top twenty.

  She left when I was eleven.

  Nina’s focus was always on survival, and that’s what she taught me. Start with what you’ve got and take what you can. She thought she deserved more than we could give her. She blamed Dad for ‘tricking’ her. He’d promised her a good life, but their ideas of good were very different.

  When she left, we were hounded by debtors. There were the typical ones, the banks and store cards who hired professionals to knock on the door politely and discuss a payment plan. But Dad wasn’t home and it was just me, and I didn’t understand. They were sympathetic, but they kept coming back.

  The guys on the estate were worse, the ones who sent their sons with threats, holding cricket bats. I just kept thinking, Why are they telling me? What am I supposed to do about this? Even if I’d wanted to help, I couldn’t have. I’d had my little secret saving places, boxes and pots under my bed or behind my books on the shelf. Money I’d saved, found, pilfered on occasion. It was much like my little collection of pre-packed biscuits, the odd cereal bar or treat we got at school – I saved them up in case I needed them.

  But Mum found all my hiding places. By the time she left I had nothing. At that point, I wasn’t even crying for her, because she’d gone. I was crying because I’d have to start all over again from scratch, that I’d never escape now.

  I didn’t really want to think about any of this today.

  I had the kind of life she’d always dreamed of, the true-love, big-home, fancy-holiday sort of life. I’d won the lottery, reached the end of the fairytale. I’d been rescued.

  Why would I want to revisit all that now? I had bigger problems than an old lonely woman who had finally realised that she’d been a bad mother.

  I folded the card neatly in half, chucked it in the bin and went to get the steaks out of the freezer.

  Dan didn’t come home for dinner.

  I was in bed when I finally heard the front door. I didn’t leave the dinner out in a passive-aggressive message that he’d messed up my attempts at a loving reconciliation. I thought about it, and God was it tempting, but I resisted, wrapping the plates in cling film and placing them in the fridge.

  At least he came to sleep in our bed. I kept gravitating towards him in my sleep, waking slightly when I realised I’d reached out to touch his skin, and he’d shifted away.

  I dreamed of my first birthday in London, when Daniel had woken me up at some ungodly hour, and cajoled me awake with the promise of coffee. I’d called him a bunch of unfair names as we walked up Primrose Hill in the darkness, panting and sweating. He hadn’t cared, my cheerful love, just grinned and squeezed my hand and told me it would be worth it.

  When he’d eventually stopped at the top, I had thrown myself down on the grass dramatically, whispering that it would be a terrible shame for me to die on my eighteenth birthday.

  ‘Oh hush. Here, stick this in your gob,’ he’d chucked me a croissant from his bag, and poured a cup of coffee from a thermos.

  ‘Charming!’ I remembered laughing, ‘Happy birthday Taz, stick this in your gob!’

  Daniel had just grinned at me, that eager-to-please look I knew so well. ‘This is my favourite place at my favourite time, and I wanted to share it with you. Watch.’

  He had pointed out in front of us, and put an arm around me. His leg against mine, the smell of him on the hoodie I’d stolen. And as if by magic, the sun rose over London, bathing it in glorious pinks and yellows, awakening the town from slumber. Of course, there were cranes and angled buildings in the imperfect skyline, but even they looked majestic as shadows of the sun.

  I’d never seen anything like it.

  ‘You are the strangest, most wonderful person,’ I’d nuzzled into his chest. ‘Thank you, this is the perfect birthday.’

  ‘Better than a lie in?’

  ‘… yes, okay, better than a lie in. Are there more croissants?’

  ‘Don’t you want your birthday present?’

  ‘Oh Dan, you didn’t go overboard, did you? We don’t have the money, and it’s really not important.’

  ‘Taz, don’t ruin a perfectly lovely day worrying about things you don’t need to worry about. It’s not like I’m gonna spend the rent money. I’ve got a little set aside for birthdays and Christmas. I’m responsible. You’ve taught me well. Don’t make it a thing, yeah?’

  He’d produced a small envelope made of wrapping paper, with a little ribbon around it.

  I opened the little envelope and tipped it open into my palm, feeling the weight before I recognised what it was.

  ‘The one from the market?’

  The ring was perfect, silver with an oval opal in the middle, reflecting the light. I slipped it onto my right hand and wiggled it to catch the light. ‘Oh, Dan, I love it, but it’s too much.’

  Dan crouched, shifting in front of me, and placed a hand over mine. ‘I don’t think it’s too much. In fact, I don’t think it’s enough. But…’ he slipped the ring off my finger, ‘I was thinking it would look better on the other hand?’

  He paused, looking at me with those hopeful eyes, a little smile on his face as he waited for my answer.

  I laughed, almost giddy with the realisation. ‘Baby, you want a real answer, you’ve gotta ask a real question.’

  Daniel laughed too then, shaking his head at me. ‘You’re right, one chance to do it properly. What d’ya say Taz? You wanna spend your life with me, be my family, us against the world?’

  God, those eyes. Daniel was the only person who had ever looked at me like I was the best thing in the world. It was intoxicating. It made me feel powerful, beautiful. Like I was looking at every good decision I’d ever made and ever would make.

  I paused, feeling my heart beat in my throat. ‘You know… I really, really do.’

  I seemed to dream about that sunrise at least once a week. Just the two of us, that perfect silver ring sitting heavy on my hand as we curled into each other on the hilltop and watched the day begin. It was the place I went to in my mind when the world got a little too cruel. My oasis in the past.

  When I woke up at 5 a.m., and rolled over to see Dan was still in bed, I breathed a sigh of relief. I looked at the ring on my finger, a sparkling solitaire and the gold band that went wi
th it. A new piece of jewellery to match our second wedding; Miranda had insisted that Daniel had to go pick something more appropriate. God, I missed my old ring.

  But there was no time to wallow – I had a plan. I made a thermos of coffee, and grabbed a packet of biscuits from the cupboard before pulling on my leggings.

  ‘Daniel, come on an adventure with me?’ I whispered, placing a hand on his arm.

  ‘What? What time is it?’ he muttered, blurry with sleep.

  ‘Time enough to walk up a big hill and watch the sunrise with your wife?’ I said hopefully, praying that my enthusiasm was catching. That he’d see what I was doing. That I was trying.

  ‘What?’ Dan rolled over and frowned at me in confusion.

  ‘I’ve got a thermos of coffee with your name on it! Let’s walk up to Primrose Hill? I think we can make it in time?’

  He paused for a moment, looking at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was that he wanted to say yes, or he was just taking time to fully wake up and understand my words.

  ‘What time is it?’ He rolled over to look at the clock. ‘Shit, I’m gonna be late!’

  ‘What, how?!’

  ‘I need to do my workout, and then I need to get to the office early. I’ve got back to back meetings.’ He was already up, pulling on his workout clothes, and I wanted to stand in front of the door to stop him getting away.

  ‘Well, switch your workout for a morning hike with me instead? I promise you’ll still burn calories!’ I smiled, waiting. ‘More fresh air than working out in that little shed too!’

  ‘I can’t, I’ve got my routine. I can’t just change it because you suddenly feel like it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Dan pulled on his trainers and went to brush past me, but paused, touching my arm. ‘It’s a nice idea. Maybe we could do it at a weekend sometime?’

  I nodded as he kissed my cheek and darted from the room.

  I went back to bed and didn’t get up until midday.

  A cafetière of cold coffee sat on the side for me when I finally made it down to the kitchen. After this morning, it felt like more of a polite gesture than one of affection.

  I chewed toast without tasting it, sitting at the kitchen counter as I scrolled through social media posts. New home, new baby, wedding, engagement, new career. Lives moving on as I sat still. I didn’t even like half these people I followed online, so why was I comparing my life to theirs? Was I only bothered because I didn’t have anything good to share?

  I looked through Angie’s photos of Milan and regretted not going, just as she’d known I would. I’d been part of ‘Taz and Dan’ for so long, it didn’t feel natural to do something for myself. But Dan had prioritised his workout, his job, his day.

  I should have done the same. After all, he now had his job and his colleagues and his family. I only had him and Angie. That was stupid of me, to leave myself vulnerable. Put all my eggs in one basket. That was always my mother’s lesson to me – First you’ve got to take care of yourself Tashy, make sure you survive. Then you can worry about everyone else.

  She had clearly lived by her philosophy.

  I went over to the bin and peered inside, saw the birthday card still sat on the top. I fished it out and looked at it again.

  Her writing was neat and to the point, no swirls or exclamations. Capital letters felt aggressive but clear. There was no falsity. She was being honest in a way I couldn’t remember as a child. That said, who really knows their parents when they’re a kid? Who knew what she was going through back then?

  When I thought I was going to be a mother, I harvested those memories desperately, wondering what she’d done, and what I wouldn’t do.

  There had only been one memory I’d loved with my mum. She’d let me have the day off school, and we made a fort in the living room, pulled all the blankets and duvets off the bed and curled up in there, watching Disney movies. She’d made melty cheese on toast and big sugary cups of tea, and I laughed as she did impressions of the mice in Cinderella. She’d stroked my hair and called me her special girl, holding me close until her perfume almost choked me. I’d felt cherished.

  And that was my only good memory. Eleven years, and one memory. So I had looked elsewhere for inspiration. I had known I didn’t want to be like Dan’s mother, pinning all of my hopes and expectations onto her child, and dismissing them when they disappointed. I’d had Sharon though, after everything happened. She had always welcomed me with a smile and asked about my day, her little boy on her hip. Tired but smiling. That was who I’d wanted to be.

  Nina had been young, though. She’d been young when she had me. And some people weren’t meant to be parents. Maybe she’d tried her best?

  Dan had forgiven his imperfect parents, been welcomed back with their Sunday lunches and Christmas and birthdays. With their phone calls and in-jokes and get-togethers. He had people. History and blood ties.

  If I didn’t have Dan, I didn’t have any family at all.

  Mum used to play gin rummy with me some evenings, and she always beat me, every time. When I asked her how, she said, ‘If it looks like you’re going to be stuck with a pair, you change up your hand.’

  If after all this I was going to be left alone, I would need to find family somewhere.

  More importantly, it was action – changing up my hand would stop me from hanging around this house like a ghost, waiting for my husband to tell me he was done with me.

  Maybe he would miss me. He’d realise there were no notes dotted around the flat to make him smile. No new pens on his desk to remind him to doodle and dream.

  And I deserved answers, right? I deserved to know what made a woman abandon her child and then reach out twenty years later. To find out if she really was as cold and heartless as she seemed. A little spark of hope glimmered – maybe if she had a good reason for leaving, everything would be okay.

  A smaller, more bitter part of me visualised how I would show off my perfect life to my mother, watching her withered and envious as I spoke of my rich husband and the fancy parties and the countries I’d been to. Taunt her with everything she had ever wanted. And then leave it all behind.

  But I knew the truth behind all of my maybes.

  It wasn’t revenge or cruelty, or even hope.

  I just wanted a reason to leave.

  Chapter Three

  Once I’d decided to go, I couldn’t leave quickly enough. I packed a bag and was ready in twenty minutes. No worrying about what to wear, what to bring, what she’d think of me. I was methodical, sensible in my swiftness. If I took too long, I knew I’d chicken out, and the months and years would drag on like this, me waiting for him to leave, him not wanting to hurt me.

  The only time I paused was to get the package from under my bed – a notebook I’d bought Dan, ready to give as a present. I’d been buying Dan notebooks ever since we moved in together. He’d told me all he wanted to do was draw, create something that mattered. So I made sure he did. Usually I gave them on his birthday, or the new year, whenever there was a new beginning.

  I wasn’t quite sure if that’s what I was telling him by leaving him one now.

  I made sure to leave it out on the kitchen counter where he would see it when he came home, and scribbled a quick note to leave next to it:

  Dan,

  * * *

  I’m going away for a few days to see my mum in Scotland. (She got in touch, she’s not well, it’s a whole thing.) I thought I’d leave you this notebook. As always, you know the rules: fill it with things that matter.

  * * *

  See you soon,

  Taz

  x

  I should have written that I loved him. We should have made up before I left, but if I did, he’d talk me out of going. And I needed to go, something in my gut was tugging at me, desperate to move, to be somewhere else.

  After all that big talk I’d given Angie about not running away, I felt guilty. But I felt guilty about everything these days. Shame was like this twitch that I
couldn’t quite shake off. Sometimes there’s simply no other way to break a stalemate.

  The minute I got into the car and pulled out onto the road, my lungs seemed to expand. I knew, finally, that I’d made the right decision.

  And if not, I’d have 500 miles of chances to change my mind.

  I could have got the plane up to Scotland, but I didn’t want to wait. I didn’t want to be at the mercy of taxis and buses and plane timetables. I didn’t want to sit in the airport departure lounge sipping on wine and watching the board, scratching my nails and thinking about my mother.

  I made it most of the way to up to Liverpool before Daniel called me. I answered on the speaker system, wondering why he was calling in the afternoon.

  ‘You’re going to Scotland,’ he exclaimed, ‘and you left me a fucking Post-it note?’

  ‘I waited up two nights and you weren’t here, I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to go.’ I tried to stay calm.

  ‘Bullshit, you’re running away.’

  ‘What are you even doing at home? I expected you’d find the note when you got home at midnight again.’

  Dan exhaled, and I imagined him leaning on the breakfast bar, shaking his head, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation.

  ‘I brought coffee and cake. I felt bad. I missed you. And then you were gone and…’

  ‘You thought I’d left for good.’

  He paused, ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘I’m just going to see my mum. It’s not a big deal.’

  He laughed at that, and I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Why would you want to see her, Taz? What good could it possibly bring? Or are you just looking for another way to make yourself miserable?’