Back to the grind
Karen hadnt set foot in her sons flat for ages. She didnt want to, she couldnt. The tears had long since dried up, and the grief had settled into a dull, relentless ache that felt more like a bad habit than heartbreak.
Sam was twentyeight, never complained about his health, had a degree, a steady job, hit the gym, and was seeing a girl. Two months ago he simply fell asleep and never woke up.
Karen had split from her husband when Sam was six and she was thirty. The usualcheating, more than once. He vanished without paying child support, leaving Karen to raise Sam alone with a little help from her parents. Shed had a few flings over the years but never mustered the courage for a second marriage.
She worked hard. First she rented a tiny unit in a highstreet supermarket to run a little glasses shopshe was an ophthalmologist, after all. Then she took out a loan, bought a proper premises and turned it into a respectable opticians, complete with her own consultation room. She fitted frames, gave advice, and made a decent living.
Last year they bought Sams onebedroom flat on the same block as hers and gave it a modest makeover. It was ready for livingif only the occupant were still around.
Dust everywhere, dust everywhere. Karen grabbed a cloth, moved the sofa, and a phone fell out from underneath it. She couldnt find it at first, then managed to plug it in to charge.
Back home, eyes misty, Karen scrolled through the pictures on the phone: Sam at work, Sam on holiday with mates, Sam with his girlfriend. She opened WhatsApp and at the top was a message from an old university friend, Dennis. The photo attached showed a young woman she didnt recognise, holding a little boy. The child was the spitting image of Sam.
Remember when we crashed at Lenas New Years party back at uni? Lena had a friend who was renting a flat opposite hers. I met that friends sonhe looks just like yours! Sent you the snap as a keepsake, the message read, dated a week before the tragedy. So Sam had known about this kid and kept it under his hat. Classic Sam.
Karen knew where Dennis lived.
The next day, after work, she drove to the address. The moment she saw the boy, she recognised him instantlyhow could she not recognise her own kin? He was chasing a boy on a bike, begging for a turn.
She leaned down and asked, You dont have a bike of your own?
The lad shook his head.
A young woman, probably just over twenty, shuffled over. Her makeup was loud and a tad mismatched with her pretty face.
What are you doing here? she asked.
I think Im his granny, Karen replied, halfjoking.
Im Megan, his mum, the girl said, extending a hand. Nice to meet you.
Karen whisked them to the corner café. Danny, as the boy was called, got an icecream; Karen sipped a coffee.
Megan explained that six years earlier shed left a small village in Yorkshire at seventeen, enrolling in a college for seamstresses. Over the Christmas break, her friend Lena invited her round. Lenas parents were away visiting relatives, and Lenas boyfriend Dennis was coming over with his mate Sam for the party. That night, Megan and Sam got together, and Sam left his number, promising to callnever did.
When Megan realised she was pregnant, she rang Sam herself. He was furious, shouted at her, and said respectable women should sort out contraception themselves. He tossed her some cash for an abortion and told her to disappear from his life forever. She never saw him again.
Megan never finished college; the dorm was no longer an option with a baby in tow. She couldnt go back to the villageher mother was gone, her father and brother were both drinkers. She now rents a room from an elderly widow, looking after the baby while she works. Most of her wages go to rent, and she cant even get a spot in the local nursery. She works in a private dumpling factory, earned pennies but its enough to keep the kettle on.
The following day Karen moved Megan and Danny into Sams flat. And thats when her life took a turn.
Danny was placed in a decent private nursery. Karen suddenly had a new shopping list: a few outfits for Megan and a tiny wardrobe for the lad. She took great delight in dressing himhe mirrored Sam in looks, gestures, even the stubborn streak.
Karen became something of a mentor to Megan. She taught her how to use makeup without looking like a carnival, how to dress smartly, how to keep the house tidy, even how to cook a proper Sunday roast. In short, she showed her the ropes of adult life.
One evening they were all perched on the sofa watching a telly drama. Danny wrapped his arms around Karen, looked up at her and said, Youre my favourite person!
In that moment Karen realised the empty hole shed felt for years was finally filling up. Grief no longer sat on her shoulders like a sack of bricks; it was more of a faint background hum. Shed slipped back into a life that allowed for laughter, for little moments of joy, all thanks to that tiny human, her grandson.
Two years later Karen and Megan walked Danny off to his first day of primary school. Megan now worked as Karens righthand lady, indispensable and beloved. Shed gotten herself a boyfriend who seemed serious about settling down, and Karen had nothing against thatlife goes on, after all.
It even looks like Karen might be tying the knot soon. An old, goodnatured friend has been nudging her toward marriage. Why not? Shes a pretty, independent woman with a fit figure, a pleasant disposition, and shes only fiftyfour.
So, after a long stretch of gloom, Karens back in the game, with a new family, a thriving business, and a future that feels a lot less bleak.
