Authors: Portia MacIntosh
‘We are friends,’ she replies, hugging me again, and for a moment we stay like that.
‘We should get to bed,’ my sister sings, finally releasing me. ‘I’m getting married tomorrow!’
‘Yey,’ I squeak, but it’s hard to muster up the same enthusiasm when I know I’m supposed to be working. If I don’t go back, I’m in big trouble, but how can I leave when things are finally getting better with my family?
It might be late here, but it’s still evening back at home. That’s why I’m going to call Dalia and try and sort this out sooner rather than later. The longer I leave it, the more trouble I will be in for not going back when I said I would.
‘Hey Mia, yikes, it must be really late there,’ she squeaks as she answers the phone.
‘It is,’ I laugh nervously.
‘Is everything cool with your flight?’
‘About that,’ I start, searching my brain for the right words. It turns out I don’t need to, because Dalia speaks first.
‘Mia, listen, Mr Skinner told me that if you called me with any excuses, I had to let him know straight away. Is it an excuse?’
I can tell from Dalia’s voice that she isn’t entirely happy about having to do this, but Mr Skinner is the boss, I don’t suppose she has much choice.
‘It is,’ I sigh.
‘Hang tight and I’ll get him to buzz you now, cool?’
‘Cool,’ I reply, although it absolutely isn’t cool, I’m going to get one hell of a telling off.
I sit and twirl a piece of my hair between my fingers as I wait for my phone to ring. It’s hard to know how to play this because, somehow, I don’t think explaining to my boss that I’m not coming back because I am finally patching things up with my family will work for him.
My phone rings, and Mr Skinner’s name flashes up. It’s his home number, and I know how much he hates having to deal with work when he is home. I wouldn’t have called now if I’d known this was going to happen.
‘Hello, Mr Skinner,’ I say as brightly as I can considering it’s the middle of the night here, I’m terrified, I’m going to have to tell him the opposite of what he wants to hear and I’ve just found out I have this terrible disease called ‘love’. ‘How are you?’
‘I was fine until someone disturbed me as I was about to have sex with my wife – do you know how rare that is?’ he replies grumpily.
‘Wow, over-share, OK. Sorry about that, I had no idea Dalia was going to call you,’ I explain.
‘Well, I asked her to call me if we were going to have a problem getting you back here to do your job – do we have a problem?’
‘Well, the thing is, my sister’s wedding is tomorrow, and that’s why I took this time off. But if I can just getting the wedding out of the way, I’ll hop on a plane the next day – maybe even the same evening. So I’ll definitely be at work on time – no, early – the next day.’
‘Yeah, OK, sure.’
‘Really?’ I squeak, amazed at his generosity.
‘In fact, why don’t you take an extra week?’ he continues.
‘Really?’ I ask, although I’m suspicious now. That’s too much.
‘Yeah, and I’ll have my wage for this month sent directly to you. In fact, when you come back, you can have my office.’
Ah, he’s being sarcastic.
‘Look, I know I promised I’d be there tomorrow but come on, it’s my sister’s wedding.’
‘Mia, what this tells me is that you have no respect for your job,’ Mr Skinner starts. ‘You promise you will be here, and you go back on it. You have inappropriate inter-office relationships. You show up late for work almost every day. You are great at your job, but you are not irreplaceable, do you understand?’
‘I do.’
‘So will you forget the silly wedding business and come back to do your job? We both know the family time shit isn’t you, you make movies!’
He bellows that last part, like everything is supposed to fall into place for me when I hear it, and it does, but not in the way he’s expecting. He thinks that instead of living my life, I should be writing about people who are, to make him far more money than I will get for doing much more work.
‘No.’
‘No, you won’t be returning to work on time?’
‘No.’
‘What do you think is going to happen now?’ he asks, unable to hide the amazement in his voice.
‘I suspect you’ll fire me,’ I reply casually. I always thought that if my dream job was ever on the line, I would do whatever it took to save it, but if whatever it takes is ruining my sister’s big day then I suppose that’s that.
‘Correctamundo,’ he replies, and even though he is confirming it, his little nod to Pulp Fiction only reminds me of the fun times I’ve had with my family – even if they were few and far between.
‘Well, you go enjoy having sex with your wife, Mr Skinner.’
‘You enjoy your wedding,’ he replies.
And with that, the call is over. I am officially unemployed.
***
I always thought I was a free spirit. One who is not restrained, as by convention or obligation; a nonconformist. Freedom is a wonderful thing. You can do what you want, when you want to. Take the internet, for example. You can watch Miley Cyrus twerking her butt off on YouTube, you can Facebook stalk your old school boyfriend and sob at how handsome he is/dance with joy because he’s going bald (delete where applicable), and you can even see exactly what two girls can do with just one cup (but let’s not and say we did).
Like Miley sings in her song ‘Can’t Be Tamed’, I thought that if you tried to put me in a cage, I would explode. Hell, if you put me in that hideous feather dress that she wears in the video I’d probably have a panic attack.
It’s a cliché, I know, but until I lost my job I took pride in the fact that I was a free spirit. I could do what I wanted, wear what I wanted, sleep with whomever I wanted. I didn’t have to answer to a boyfriend, I didn’t have kids to look after; the world was my oyster.
I thought I was free. I thought I was spreading my wings, looking down on everyone – flying onwards and upwards. But now I realise I was just disconnected, I just kept doing the same old empty routine of work and gym whilst everyone else moved on with their lives. I thought I was flying onwards and upwards, turns out I’m the one who’s been left behind.
I know it may seem like I think life is one big movie reference, but I think Norman Bates was onto something in Psycho. I know I probably shouldn’t read too much into the ramblings of a serial killer with a split personality, but he thought that we were all caught in our private traps, unable to ever get out. Of course Norman was bothered about this, but he said that he wasn’t. Well I am bothered, but unlike Norman I’m not about to give in to it by throwing on a wig and getting stabby in the shower. My job was a huge part of my personal private trap. I thought it was the only thing that mattered – and I was surrounded by people who encouraged that mindset. However, instead of losing my mind after getting fired, I feel weirdly liberated.
It is the morning of the wedding, and as I stand on my balcony and look out over the beach I take in a deep breath of sea air and it feels amazing. This is what free feels like – I might even eat a cupcake after dinner, and I know exactly how terrible they are for you because I made them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to eat myself stupid until I’m overweight again, but I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Plus, I won’t be hanging around as many skinny actresses now – there’s the silver lining. I will have to find another job though, because even with my savings, I won’t last long in LA.
I am snapped from my thoughts by a knock on my door.
‘Come in,’ I call out.
‘Good God, you’re naked,’ my auntie comments as she spots me standing undressed on the balcony.
I look down at the pretty vest and pants I slept in, which cover far more skin than the bikini she has seen me in previously.
‘Hello, Auntie June,’ I say brightly. Nothing can quash this good mood.
‘I need to talk to you,’ she starts. ‘Well, actually, I need you to talk to Hannah. She won’t speak to me.’
‘Oh,’ is the only reply I can manage.
‘I mean, you must have had a trip or two to a clinic in your time,’ she starts, but then she softens a little. ‘I know you and I have never seen eye to eye, but she looks up to you. And I know you’re a sensible girl, and I know that you’ve been looking out for her.’
‘Auntie, I will happily speak to her. She’s a tough little thing, try not to worry, OK?’
My auntie nods, and for a brief moment she gives me a sincere smile.
‘Look, I’m trying this new thing where I sort my shit out with everyone,’ I start, although probably not as eloquently as I could. ‘So what’s your problem with me?’
‘I don’t have a problem with you,’ my auntie replies coolly. I give her a look and she sighs.
‘Do you really think there’s something going on with Steve?’ I ask, not ready to give up on our heart-to-heart just yet.
‘No, but I see the way he looks at you. I’m not getting any younger, I wouldn’t be surprised if he left me for a younger model.’
I am shocked by her moment of honesty. I don’t point out to my auntie that there’s no way a younger model would want boring old Uncle Steve, instead I try a different approach.
‘Auntie, I’ve spent a lot of time on the beach these past few days, and men just stare at women, it’s what they do. And the women don’t stare back, they don’t even notice. It’s just men being men. Steve loves you.’
My auntie nods her head. That’s probably the best I can hope for.
‘So, Hannah,’ I remind her.
‘Well, she’s alone in her room if you want to try now. I’ll wait outside.’
‘OK.’
I head for the door.
‘Mia,’ my auntie calls after me.
I stop and turn around, preparing myself for a heartfelt thank you.
‘Put some clothes on first, will you.’
I laugh to myself as I grab something to throw on. Perhaps that was too much to hope for.
‘Hey, Teen Mom,’ I say I walk in Hannah’s room. I hear the click of my auntie’s tongue as I close the door behind me.
Hannah, who is sitting on her bed, hugging her knees, gives me a half-hearted laugh.
‘First up, I am so sorry for the way your mum found out about this, that was not my intention. It’s just Leo was going on and on about it–’
‘It’s OK,’ she interrupts. ‘I’m fifteen and pregnant and your life is messier than mine.’
‘Thanks for that,’ I reply when I realise she’s serious.
‘I was too scared to tell my mum anyway, so you sort of did me a favour, but now she’s being a total freak about it.’
‘I don’t think she knows what to say or do,’ I tell her honestly. ‘The important thing to remember is that you have so many options. No matter what you decide, your life isn’t over. Do you know how many familiar faces returned to sit their GCSEs with baby bumps in my year? Three. And if you don’t think you’re ready to be a mum, then there are so many options for that too.’
Hannah nods, listening attentively.
‘The important thing is to make an appointment with your doctor when you get back home, get it confirmed and then she’ll let you know what’s next.’
‘How do you know so much about so much?’ Hannah asks.
‘I watch a lot of movies,’ I laugh. ‘Shall I call your mum back in here? If she’s being a freak, I’ll tell her to chill. She
does
want to be there for you.’
‘OK, yeah.’
‘Oh, Grandma June,’ I call out, shortly before my unimpressed auntie walks in.
‘I think she thinks she’s funny,’ June tells her daughter with a slight snigger as she sits down next to her.
‘I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,’ Hannah tells her mum.
‘And I’m sorry for reacting the way I did,’ she replies. ‘Let’s just enjoy the wedding, go home and then we’ll discuss what to do.’
Hannah nods before hugging her mum.
‘Aww, that’s nice,’ I say as I back towards to the door. ‘I think the wedding is going to be a blast. No alcohol for you,’ I remind Hannah.
‘Mia, she’s fifteen!’ my auntie snaps.
I roll my eyes. Underage drinking is unthinkable, but underage sex is fine.
Just as I am about to leave, my auntie mouths the words ‘thank you’ to me.
I wave my hand at her, to tell her it’s nothing. I’m just glad I could help them. It feels weird to admit it to myself, but I’m going to miss this lot when I go home.
I didn’t stay on top of the world for very long – a matter of hours – before I came crashing back down to earth.
The wedding ceremony took place on the beach earlier today, and as I walked down the aisle ahead of my sister I came face to face with Leo, who I had successfully avoided up until then. Seeing his face – his sad dark eyes – and how gorgeous he looked in his suit, only served as a reminder of just how much I like him. He gave me a brief smile as I approached him, but that was that. No further interaction.
Now we’re all in the beach house, in the middle of dinner. I have noticed Leo and Nancy getting on well, talking lots and laughing together. This is absolutely unbearable for me now, so I’m sitting on the stairs alone, drinking champagne. Were it not for the alcohol in my hand, I’d look like a stroppy child, refusing to go on stage for her ballet recital. It’s the grumpy face, the tutu and the tiara that’s doing it.
‘You OK, Kid?’ my granddad asks as he passes me.
‘I’m good, just going over my speech,’ I reply.
‘You’re giving a speech?’
‘Belle asked me to.’
My granddad laughs mischievously.
‘Oh, she’ll approve of it, don’t worry. Mushy junk that would be at home in one of my movies.’
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ my granddad tells me, patting me on the shoulder as he heads back to the dining room.
I pull out my speech from the depths of my cleavage and give it the once over. Thankfully I wrote this before my own encounter with love, so it’s just false instead of bitter. Not that anyone will be able to tell, not if I’ve done my job properly.
I wander back into the room where Leo and Nancy are still laughing together. It’s the first thing I notice and trying to block it out is burning my eyes.
‘Your dress fits you nicely’ my mum tells me as I pass her. She’s standing around with a drink in her hand, and I would guess it’s maybe her twelfth of the day judging by how fresh and friendly she looks. And I think that might have been a compliment she just paid me.