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And then there’s Rocco, who might not be interested in me, and I’m not really interested in him. It’s not that I don’t fancy him, it’s just that I can’t imagine he’ll be around for long.
But he’s a great distraction for the holidays, and I’m weirdly looking forward to cooking with him later.
Let’s just hope we’re better at it than we are at bowling.
13
Two things that don’t mix are hangovers and families. I haven’t even seen any of my lot today yet (well, since my nap, technically) but I already know that my headache and my hangover aren’t going to complement one another – and, yes, I am referring to my family as a headache.
I’m a little ticked off today, after my dad decided to start being a dad, decades too late. Thankfully, as I join him in the kitchen, he doesn’t mention it. In fact, he doesn’t say anything, he’s too busy staring at his phone with a big, dumb grin on his face. Eww, everyone knows what it means when someone looks at their phone like that, it means they’re messaging someone they’re into. I’d say get a room, but they have one and it’s one of mine so, just, no. Gail is up there working. She’s always working, and I wonder if her workload is as intense as she makes out, or if perhaps she’s just doing everything she can to avoid us all. I would do the same if everyone didn’t know I was a teacher. Well, I’ll clearly do anything to avoid being home, attending events submitted by users of a dating app just goes to prove it.
‘Good morning,’ I say, loudly, to drag his attention from his phone.
‘Oh, hi, Billie love,’ he replies, still looking at his screen. ‘I think the morning ship has sailed, though.’
It may not be actual morning but it’s morning to me.
‘Good afternoon, then,’ I correct myself. ‘Where’s Jess?’
‘She, er…’ He laughs quietly at something on his screen and then starts tapping away.
‘Dad!’ I say, raising my voice again.
‘What?’ he asks through a chuckle. ‘Ask your mum.’
I narrow my eyes at him.
‘Fine,’ I say, happy to leave the room, if whatever he’s doing on his phone is more important than talking to me.
I drag myself up the stairs, my headache briefly intensifying for a few seconds, reminding me of all the reasons why I shouldn’t drink so much. As I pass Gail’s room, I can’t tell what she’s saying, but I can hear muted murmurings coming through the door, so she must be on a call. I knock on Mum’s door quietly. Eventually she calls me in.
‘Good morning, party animal,’ she teases. ‘What time do you call this?’
It’s funny, no one says a word to Jess when she sleeps in.
Mum is fully clothed, with a perfect face of make-up, sitting on her bed, her phone in her hand – sort of how you would expect to find your teenage daughter in her room.
‘Nap time,’ I reply, climbing on the bed next to her.
As Mum scoots up a little, to make room for me, I could swear I notice her try to subtly angle her phone screen away from me. Before I have chance to figure it out, she locks it and places it face down on her other side.
‘Everything okay?’ I ask her.
‘All good here, darling, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know,’ I say with a sigh. ‘All the things.’
‘Christmas will be over before you know it,’ she replies, giving my shoulder a meaningful rub.
‘I know but, that’s the thing, I don’t want it to be, I want to be able to enjoy it – I want the Christmas I originally planned,’ I explain, right as Mum’s phone dings with a message.
‘Do you know what I mean?’ I prompt.
Her phone dings again.
‘Mum?’
‘I’m listening,’ she insists.
