How to Start Over
Friday, 7:46 PM
How did it come to this again? Standing by the mirror, carefully tucking a loose strand behind my ear, I could almost sense Mums irritation buzzing through the house before she even opened her mouth.
Where are you off to, all dolled up? And have you noticed the time? Mums voice had that clipped edge to it, her eyes darting up to the carriage clock above the coat hook. Nearly eight in the evening.
A half-smile flickered on my lips as I adjusted my scarf, pretending I didnt hear. It was going to be one of those nights, another exhausting conversation only now, the sting of it barely registered. Id survived so many already theyd become almost routine.
Mum, Im not sixteen anymore. I dont need to tell you where Im going. My voice was light, almost cheerful, as I finally turned to face her.
A frown creased her forehead mid-sentence, her mouth tightening, as if Id just knocked her sideways.
Youre living in my house, young lady, she retorted, raising her voice a little more than necessary. There it was: the classic opener. And whos supposed to keep an eye on Ben, then? You must think Ill just run after your eight-year-old while you swan about? Youre in for a shock!
Mum made a dramatic sweep with her arms, as if she was motioning towards the so-called chaos my son would surely unleash. Id like a quiet cuppa and to watch the telly in peace for once not chasing after him, pleading with him to do his homework, enduring one tantrum after another! Do you even know how draining that is? Every night its the same: hes fussy about food, bored out of his mind, thinks his homeworks some great injustice and Im meant to sort him out?
Thats enough. I cut in, my calm mask dropping. My tone sharpened, my lips set in a determined line. Bens staying over at Emmas tonight. Frankly, youd be the last person Id leave him with. He doesnt need to see that sort of attitude. Kids pick up everything, Mum, whether you mean them to or not.
She stopped, frozen by my words, then pressed a hand to her chest in mock agony before flopping onto the settee. My mother went for drama the way some people go for tea. Her face was one huge picture of wounded pride; if it werent so tense, it might have been funny.
This is how you talk to me? After all Ive done for you! You came crawling back here when your marriage fell apart, remember? I gave you this room, this roof, everything! And how do you thank me?
She waited for guilt to sink in, for me to waver. But Id learned my lesson over the years never give in to theatrics.
And lets not forget, I interjected, cool as ice, that a quarter of this house belongs to me, as per Dads will. Youre not the only one with rights here, Mum, and you cant just push me out.
She gawked at me, truly gobsmacked, still expecting her timid little girl. Not this time.
So, no, you cant make trouble for me living here. Ive every right, by law and otherwise. My fingers fumbled with my bag zipper, hands shaking from repressed anger, but I managed to keep even.
Oh, and by the way, well be gone soon couple of weeks, a month tops. You wont have to put up with us for long, promise.
Mum let out a harsh, almost triumphant laugh that echoed in the hallway. She shook her head, folded her arms, and stared at me with that look of scornful satisfaction.
And where exactly will you go? she drawled, utterly convinced I was trapped. You havent got a penny saved, cant even afford a mortgage deposit, can you?
She paused to watch my reaction, twisting the knife.
Your ex-husband was smarter than you had everything in his mothers name, so you ended up with nothing. You were so naïve, its embarrassing. Whered I go wrong with you?
It stung, always did, but I refused to flinch. My knuckles whitened on my bag handle. I took a deep breath and smoothed my voice:
Thats not your business, I said, fighting to keep the heat out of my words. My eyes flashed, but I forced myself to stay level. Im not that gullible girl anymore. Thats it. Goodnight. And in case youre interested, worlds most doting Gran, Ben left hours ago.
Before she could spit out another word, I pivoted on my heel and all but marched out. The echo of my boots on the worn parquet seemed to shake the dust from the old bannister. I was out the front door and down the steps before I had time to second-guess myself, leaving behind the house that called itself welcoming with only the greatest generosity.
The chill outside barely registered I was too wound up, anger sizzling through me like a thunderstorm. I walked with no plan, only a need to escape from the house, the words, the woman I couldnt bring myself to truly call Mum tonight. My mood was ruined, nothing could shift the grey cloud hanging over me.
Why is she my mother, of all people? I asked myself. Anyone else in my shoes would call me ungrateful, a bad daughter, but right then, I didnt care. Sometimes its better to have no mother at all than one who only offers criticism, mockery, and cold calculation in place of love.
First impressions of Mum were always misleading. She was approachable, warm in company ready with a kind word, to help with paperwork, to lend a ladder or a cup of sugar. Everyone on the street spoke highly of Mrs. Carter. She always knew the right thing to say, how to put a comforting hand on someones shoulder and reassure them, Things will sort themselves out, dear.
Yet those who really knew her saw another side. She demanded total obedience, kept everyone in tight control, believed only her way was right. No opinion counted unless it was hers. She insisted she knew best for everyone and didnt mind showing it straight-talking, never sparing anyones feelings. Disagree with her, and her gaze turned cold, her voice steely.
Growing up, I had no choice but to follow her rules. Mum dictated what I wore, which clubs I joined, and even who could be my friends. Every mate had to pass her strict standards, like at a private school interview.
Dont spend time with Sophie, shed say when I wanted to visit a schoolmate from a single-parent home. Not good for you.
Or, That Jack from next door? Troublemaker steer clear.
But for others, it was all approval, only because their family was well connected Lucys mother is council, love, good contacts never hurt.
When it came time for university, Mum never asked what I wanted. It was decided: Id apply to the local medical school. She didnt care if I dreamt of anything else my fear of blood was dismissed as attention-seeking.
Oh, youre pretending, Rebecca. No such thing as fainting spells, shed sneer. Youre just dodging hard work.
I tried to explain, but my concerns were waved away as weakness.
The only escape I saw then was marriage. As soon as I turned eighteen, I barely hesitated when Tom suggested we get hitched. It wasnt love at first sight, more desperate search for freedom. I just needed out. Out from constant surveillance, someone elses plans, from always being squashed into shapes not my own.
I knew marriage was a big deal, but it felt like the only path to even a sliver of independence. Anything to get away from the house where my wishes never mattered.
Needless to say, things didnt last long. At first, Tom and I were giddy at having our own place, making plans or more truthfully, muddling through. But soon, little arguments became big ones, and he started coming home late, smelling of the pub, snapping at questions. When I tried to talk, he shrugged me off.
Its nothing. Just shattered, thats all.
Then Ben was born, and everything got harder sleepless nights and endless nappies made everything worse. Rows exploded daily, or, just as often, we fell into chilly silences. Soon I found out Tom was seeing someone else, and, incredibly, he barely bothered to hide it.
Met someone else, you know, he said once, coming home at midnight while I held sleeping Ben. Dont want drama. You can go, if you want.
What could I do? Dad died long ago, family all dispersed. My old friends didnt have spare rooms, not for a woman with a baby in tow or I just couldnt bring myself to ask. So I stayed. Put up with the late nights, his indifference, the remarks. Cried sometimes, in bed with the pillow smothering the sound.
Even before Ben arrived, Id dropped out of university after one semester. I tried to juggle baby and classes, but it was a lost cause. With all my energy spent on just surviving, the hope for more faded.
As Ben grew and started school, I found a way back not to university, not right away, but evening classes at the local college, picking up book-keeping. Hardly the dream, but at least it was a chance at steady pay and independence.
I worked days, did coursework nights, and fell asleep with revision sheets on my bed. Still, each exam I passed was a tiny ember of hope. Maybe my life could be truly mine, after all.
A few years on, once I had that battered diploma, once Ben was a bit more grown-up, I found my voice at last. I left Tom. The job wasnt high-flying, but it was stable. My boy was settled at primary school, and I started planning only problem was where to live. Rent here in Reading was daylight robbery, my wages barely covered the essentials.
But I remembered I still owned a quarter of our old house, legally, thanks to Dads will. It wasnt ideal, going back under Mums roof. The house was the same, but nothing else was. Nevertheless, it was that or nothing.
I steeled myself, and rang her number
*****
Later, in Emmas kitchen, I confided my latest plan, the kettle rattling behind us as she fussed with the tea bags.
Youll be miserable there, Becky, and Ben will be worse off! You know what your mum is like shell crush him. Emma chewed her lower lip, gaze earnest. He wont stand for it. You know how she is with him. Shell expect him to do as hes told, and Ben he just wont.
I watched the streetlights flicker in the dusk, the cold pressing against the window. It wont be forever. A few months, just until I can save a bit more. Im with you, Em, its not what I want but theres no choice. Once were out, well keep our contact with her to birthdays and polite phone calls, if she can even be bothered.
Emma eyed me long and hard, one eyebrow cocked in suspicion.
Whats in the pipeline, then? Youre talking like youve got it all lined up. Are you sure youre not jumping out of the frying pan?
I just grinned not too widely, but enough to hint there was more going on.
Im not quite the idiot Mum thinks, I said softly. And Ill do whatever it takes for Ben, you know that. Someones started showing interest in me, lets just say that
Emmas eyebrows shot up, but when she tried to ask who, I raised a hand with a little laugh.
Please dont ask yet. Its early days, thats all. I just want to stay careful for now, but it feels like it could work.
She nodded, not pressing. Thats partly why I loved her she always gave me space.
And is he do you actually like him? she asked, voice gentle. You bolted into your first marriage to get away from your mum Id hate to see you make another mistake. Why not stay here, the two of you? Itd be a tight squeeze, but wed manage, and Ben would love playing with the boy next door.
I wrapped my cold fingers around my mug, considering. Hes good, Emma. Really. He likes me. Loves children, too. Has a son of his own, a year or two older than Ben. Thats how we met, actually at the swings in the park. They played while we got chatting, at first just about the kids, and then about well, everything, really.
I thought of how patient Michael had been, how he laughed at Bens wild stories, how thered never been anything but kindness in his eyes.
With him, I feel safe, I suppose. He doesnt try to change me or Ben, never patronises us. Hes a brilliant dad to his boy, patient, gentle. Hes just real.
Emma squeezed my hand. I felt seen for the first time in ages.
I mean it, I added, firmer. This isnt just running away. I want a piece of something genuine, a family that fits, not one that stifles. I want Ben to grow up where hes loved, where theres space to breathe.
Emma looked uncertain, but squeezed my hand again. If youre sure, Ill support you. Just be careful, promise? And you can always stay here if things go pear-shaped.
I squeezed back, feeling grateful to my bones. Thank you, Em. That means everything.
*****
In the end, I was right; Mums house was only a short stop. Life surprised me with a truly happy ending: Michael asked me to marry him.
We packed so fast just a few bags, some of Bens teddies, my favourite books. There was something exhilarating about it, like fate was finally hurrying us out the door.
Ben was the most thrilled of all. Hed never gotten on with his grandmother, never hid it her strict rules and endless criticisms wore him down. Hed slam his door, snap at her comments, do whatever it took to escape her shadow. Now his eyes shone finally, he was free to relax, to be himself.
When Mum found out I was engaged again, she erupted. At first, she demanded to meet my future husband. Hes not good enough, I wont allow it! she shrieked. Youre not making that mistake again, not under my roof!
I stayed calm. This is my decision, Mum. Meeting isnt happening.
It sent her over the edge. Out she went, parading her outrage on the street so all the neighbours could hear. She ranted about my thoughtless behaviour, my shameful ingratitude, my supposed lack of heart.
The neighbours, so used to Mrs. Carter being the soul of helpfulness and decorum, recoiled in shock. A few tried to calm her down, but she only turned on them too. Suddenly she wasnt so respected in the village; her reputation never quite recovered.
As for me I was finally happy. Michael was everything Id dreamed of. Kind, supportive, genuinely good to Ben. No more tiptoeing, no more apologies.
I scraped together enough courage (and money) to start university for real this time in English Literature, not medicine. It wasnt easy. Late nights, essays balanced with work, bills piling up, but every class felt right, every book made me feel alive in a way biology never had.
I found a job, nothing grand, but reliable a nice boss, a fair wage. I learned to squirrel away pounds each month, for the first time building a safety net for ourselves. I finally felt secure. Each week, Mums rules faded further into memory.
Sometimes I remembered that evening I walked out, my heels echoing down the hall, and I smiled. Id done what I thought impossible: I made my own choices, set my own course. I had my son, a good man, a job, and a degree. I had my life back.
Who knows what hurdles are left? But I know now Ill face them head on. Finally, for the first time, the choices are all my own.
