Uncomfortable familial contemplations

The next day, I headed over to the address my mum had sent me. I was surprised to find that I was feeling a little jumpy – though I couldn’t tell whether it was because I was about to see my mum for the first time in over three years, or whether it was just another byproduct of my Charley situation.

She’d picked a small, local-looking café on the side street, with classic Paris decal. Anything to forget she had to be back in London, I guess.

I poked my head inside and spotted her in the corner almost immediately. She looked almost identical to how she had last time, and still had her professor of archaeology look going strong – thick rimmed glasses, grey turtleneck, light brown hair tied up in a ponytail and skin that was weathered and tanned.

“Luke!” She exclaimed once she caught sight of me.

I walked over, and she got up and wrapped me in a slightly stiff hug. “Hi,” I replied.

“Have you grown? I feel like you’ve grown,” she said, pulling back and looking up at me.

I was about to correct her, because I’d stopped growing quite a few years ago. But then again, maybe I had still been growing all the way back when I’d last seen her. “Uh … yeah, maybe.”

“Anyway, sit down, sit down,” she said. “Tell me everything that’s going on with you.”

You know Charley, my stepsister who you’ve never met? We’re sleeping together. I shrugged. “I’m at uni now. Studying Law.”

“Ooh, Law?” she chuckled. “I’m assuming your father had some input in your choice of degree then.”

She wasn’t wrong. “Yeah, he wasn’t so keen on paying nine grand a year for me to study English or Philosophy or something. But I don’t mind. It’s intense, but interesting.”

“That’s good,” she replied.

“How about you? How come you’re back?” I asked.

“Couple new findings from out in South America, a fundraising event in Holborn. Nothing too exciting.”

She was brushing it off, but I could tell she wanted to talk about it. “New findings?”

“Yep!” Her eyes lit up, now that I’d given her the green light to nerd out.

I won’t bore you with the details, but after ordering coffees and pastries for the two of us she spent a good forty-five minutes describing in detail a tiny, splintered ancient Mayan knife she’d uncovered while in Guatemala.

I just smiled and nodded along, which apparently was enough for her.

After a while though, she finally finished her riveting story. “Sorry for rambling,” she chuckled. “You’re a good listener.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“I never got much of a chance to talk about my work with family. Lord knows your father never wanted to hear about it, before the divorce.”

Awkward family situation now brought up, we devolved into an uncomfortable silence. I had thought a lot about my parents’ divorce over the years but had never asked about it. Dad was obviously a no-go – even normal conversations with him were awkward enough, let along ones about his romantic past. And my mum was around so little that there was never really the time, or desire to bring up a topic like that.

But for some reason, there in that small café, I suddenly needed to ask about it.

“Hey,” I spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Why did you and Dad get a divorce?”

I could see her freeze the second the question left my lips. “That’s a pretty heavy question out of the blue. Why … why are you asking me that?”

“Because I want to know,” I said firmly. “Neither of you have ever talked about it. Dad isn’t exactly the most emotionally available guy around, and you’re not really available full stop.” I looked away. “Maybe it’s just a … child of divorce thing. It’s something you end up wondering about.”

“Alright. I guess one of us owes you an explanation, after all this time.” She paused, like she was mentally preparing herself. “With your father and I … our relationship felt like a chore, like we were forcing it. We got married when we were young and stupid, and then I got pregnant … by the time we both realized we weren’t right for each other, it felt like it was too late. Divorce didn’t feel like an option – I had my catholic parents; your father had his deeply rooted family values.

“So, when you were born, we decided to double down and just make it work. It was okay for a year or two – new parents are too busy with the child to worry about marital issues. But you grew up, and we got a bit of breathing room, and all the problems came rushing back. We argued constantly, focused too much on our careers – it was a nightmare. There were some good times too of course, like the holiday in the Maldives, watching you go to your first day of school. But it was almost the problem in itself – it felt like for our marriage to work, every single thing needed to be perfect, at all times. It shouldn’t be like that. It’s not realistic.

“We buried our heads in the sand for a few more years, but eventually we sat down and decided it had to stop. For you, Luke. We didn’t want you to grow up believing that this was what a marriage was.” She averted her gaze. “Sorry. I’m not trying to make it seem like I blame you.”

“It’s fine,” I replied slowly. “If you guys weren’t right for each other anyway, I guess I can’t be mad that I was what caused you to make the decision.”

She shot me a grateful smile. “Being with the person you love should be as easy as breathing. Even when you fight and disagree, get angry or sad with each other, you always know that there’s no one else you’d rather be with in the world.” She sipped her coffee. “You’ll understand it one day. Or maybe you already do. That’s why you asked me, isn’t it? You’re in love.”

“What? No!” I spluttered, my face instantly growing hot. “Where the hell did you get that from?”

“It’s written all over your face,” she said. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.”

“Well, I think you’re hallucinating. Because you’re way off.”

“Don’t want to divulge your love life to your estranged mother? Fine.” She held up her hands dramatically.

I sighed. First Max, now my mum. At this rate, I’ll end up being gaslit into actually falling in love with Charley.

In. Love. With. Charley.

The flood of thoughts was so sudden I felt like I was about to have an aneurism. Was that what this new feeling was? Was I really … in love with my stepsister?

No, I just had a crush – it was physical attraction. I had always known that was all it was. And that was why when Charley had brought up the clause in our agreement that if either of us fell for the other it would end, I had been completely fine with it.

And yet, it was so incredibly obvious that something was different now. Her always being on my mind; that dull, throbbing ache in my chest; how completely comfortable yet nervously giddy I felt when I was around her.

Was that love? I had absolutely no fucking clue. But I sure as shit needed to figure it out.

“Um … you okay?” My mum’s voice shook my out of my stupor.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumbled. “So, are you heading back to Guatemala after the event?”

With the heavy topic out the way, my mum and I carried on with the small talk for a little bit but honestly my mind was somewhere else entirely by that point. I don’t know if she noticed it or not, but eventually she was the one to call it a day. “Anyway, I won’t hold you hostage any longer.”

“Right,” I chuckled weakly. “Thanks for the coffee.”

We left the café and stood outside awkwardly for a few seconds as we prepared to say goodbye.

Turning to me, my mum broke the silence. “You know you can call me anytime, right?”

I looked over at her, saw her smile. And I knew it was genuine. But this was the same dance we did every time she’d pop up after a few years – the nice chat, the promise to keep in touch more. But we both knew full well by now that just wasn’t what our relationship was.

And that was alright. “Yeah. I know.”

As I walked back to the underground station, my thoughts were entirely preoccupied by a relationship which I very much wasn’t sure about.

The more I considered the possibility, the more it scared me. The pieces of the puzzle just slotted into place so easily – the new things I was feeling, and more importantly, the fear. Because of course there would be fear – we’d talked about the possibility, outlined what it would mean for our relationship. I knew that if it was true, it could screw up what we had irreparably.

Suddenly, just as I was walking onto the platform, I was struck by the sudden urge to see her. With everything swirling around in my head, I just needed to speak to her, be around her. Maybe it would set me straight. Or maybe it would mess with me even more. Only one way to find out.

I walked over to the other line, heart pounding.

Fuck. Am I really in love with her?