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We sit on the bench in bay twelve, eating greasy potato cakes and hot chips, sipping coffee from disposable cups. More passengers start to trickle in, and eventually the driver shows up to open the luggage doors. Ticket in hand, I wheel my suitcase over and join the queue.
‘Before I forget,’ Tamsin says, pulling a pen out of her handbag and taking the ticket from me. She writes her mobile number on the back of it. ‘Call me any time you want or need to. And make sure you let me know your new address once you’re settled so I can come visit next time I’m up north.’
I hug her, holding on for a long moment. ‘Make sure you visit.’
‘You make sure you call.’
I hand my suitcase to the driver. He slides it into place, then checks my ticket. I’m holding up the line, so I have no choice but to board.
‘You’ve 100 percent got this,’ Tamsin says with an encouraging smile.
I nod and step up onto the bus, finding a seat halfway down. Tamsin continues to wait, and I watch her through the window. I’m grateful that someone is here waving goodbye while at the same time hurting over my mother’s final words to me.
Not surprised, but hurt.
It’s not her fault. There’s no one to blame. It would be so much easier if there was. I can’t resent her for her way of thinking. These aren’t political views that can be swayed with education. These are deeply rooted values and beliefs that bring meaning and purpose to her life. To support me would be a betrayal to herself and the God she loves wholeheartedly. The personal cost would be too great.
And yet I want it anyway.
I wave to Tamsin as the bus backs out of the bay. She walks alongside it for a bit. I continue waving until she disappears from sight, then bury my face in my backpack and cry all the way to Cann River.
