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“Your phone keeps beeping, love. Maybe you should see who that is.” Her eyes shone with concern.
I hadn’t spoken about Manon, but my mother read me like a book. After I’d lost it as a teenager, I had seen that almost-permanent worried look on her face. Just like she wore now.
This time, it wasn’t the aftermath of a regrettable street fight. It was worse. I’d killed a man, left one to die, and in among that constant, grim merry-go-round, I couldn’t stop thinking about Manon.
We should have been having the time of our lives at our age.
There were a ton of messages from her. All begging me to call her. Telling me she was losing her mind with worry.
Trouble was, I missed her, too. I would wake up and see her before falling asleep. It was like she was there, holding me. Like I felt her spirit or something just as flaky but still profound.
“Is it serious?” my mother asked.
I poured her some fresh tea. Sally, her carer, would be over soon. Then I was off to Billy’s for some game time.
“It’s just a girl I’ve been dating.”
“Does she know you’re here?” She leaned over for a biscuit.
“I haven’t told her.” I rubbed my spiky scalp.
“Then you must. The poor girl must be worried sick.”
That was my mother, always thinking about other people.
I gave her a smile. “I’ll let her know I’m staying here for a while.”
“You like this girl?” She kept staring at me, trying to get me to open up. “You sound so sad, love. Why don’t you have a chat with someone?”
“A shrink, you mean?” I pulled a face. “No. I just need some space to process everything.”
“Of course you do, love. I’m always here for you. You know that.”
I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I know that, Mum. Just going for a run.”
I grabbed my phone and headed over to the park opposite the flats, where we’d lived since my dad had passed. We’d had to downsize because my mother couldn’t work, and it was tough trying to make ends meet. After school every day, I’d worked, cleaning at the gym where I’d learnt how to box. With that money and my mum’s pension, we had just managed. That was why I was dead set on making things better for her.
Iranlikeaman possessed, working up quite a sweat, after which I plonked myself down on a bench, gulped back water from my bottle, then called Manon.
I’d been gone for a week, and I owed her a call.
“Drake.” She sounded puffed out.
“Have I caught you in the middle of something?”
“I’m driving to London.”
“Oh.”
“So why the silent treatment?”
I puffed. “I just needed some space, so I’ve moved to London for a while.”
“For a while?”
“I’m not sure how long. I’m not sure about anything, to be honest.”
“And you’ve left me without telling me?” Her voice cracked. “Would you have told me if I hadn’t kept calling and texting you?”
