Page 2 of My Mistake To Make

He offered me a sort of sympathetic half-smile before he stood, pulling up his boxers before looking for his jeans and pulling them on. He hadn’t taken his top off, so it was a speedy mission, and then he was out of the door.

I got dumped. Immediately after sex.Wow.

‘Hi, Mum.’

I offered my soft greeting as I lowered to the ground and ran my fingers over the cold stone.

It was a nice day, not quite spring, but the air already felt warm even though it was barely nine in the morning.

‘I have a bit to tell you today, Mum. I hope you’re listening.’

Charlotte McKenzie had been a long time dead, long enough that her voice, her laugh, and the smell of her perfume were now memories that had to be triggered rather than things I could call on at any time.

‘Dad’s doing okay. I’m sure you already know that.’ I said, a slight smile curving my lips. ‘He’s still refusing to date anyone, Mum. I’ve tried telling him that he’s going against your wishes, but he says he’s fine. I know he still misses you.’

I turned my face up to the blue sky.

‘Can you believe people think it always rains in Scotland? Look at this sky, Mum.’

I took a deep breath.

‘Jamie broke up with me.’ I released a sigh. ‘He thinks we’re on different paths, that I have no sense of adventure.’ I pulled a daisy from the ground at my feet and methodically picked offeach petal as I spoke. ‘I like stable, Mum. Is that so bad?’ Even I could hear the sadness in my voice.

Jamie and I had been together for five years,five years. After that long together, I was expecting a ring, not a breakup. We met at work. I’m the receptionist at his dental surgery, or at least I was. I’d imagine I’d have to hand my notice in now. Over the past couple of days, I’d gone back and forth over it all. I’d called and texted him asking him to talk to me and work things out. He’d given me lots more words that I’m sure he thought would help explain things, but they just confused me more.

I know I like things to be safe, but he liked routine too. Most of our relationship was according tohisplans… all of it was, really. What we ate, where we went, when and how we had sex.

‘He said he thought it was only fair to end things. He knew I wanted to settle down, and he just wasn’t there yet. He wants to travel the world and experience new cultures, and I’m looking to move in together and maybe get married. After five years, I don’t think that’s a lot to expect, is it, Mum?’

I waited for a moment, knowing she couldn’t answer but giving her the opportunity anyway.

‘I feel like I’ve wasted my prime years with him now. I’ll be thirty soon, and then what? I need to start over, meet someone new, and wait to fall in love before we can even think about the next steps.’ I sigh, considering the reality of starting over. ‘Maybe he is right, though. I’ve never said it out loud before, but I don’t find it easy being me.’

I released a sigh and gazed over the wall that bordered the cemetery, watching the cows munching on grass. ‘Am I a cow, Mum?’ I turned back to the headstone. ‘Every day is the same for them—they wake up, eat grass, sleep and do it all again. Every day is the same for me too. I’m festering, Mum, stagnating. I want to be happy and fun and free.’ A sob lodges in my throat and steals my voice as hot tears wash over my eyes. ‘When Igo to a concert, I watch the other women around my age, I see them with their tattoos and outrageous hair, their piercings and incredible clothes, and I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I am holding myself back. I’m the same as them in so many ways, you know, same age, listening to the same music, but for some reason, they’re able to be the person they are on the inside, on the outside, and I’m trapped in fear. I just want to look in the mirror and see the Cara I know I can be, but I can’t do spontaneous, and I can’t be adventurous because I’m too afraid of what might happen.’ I groaned, confused about my next move. ‘Oh, Mum. You were so brave and fun. How did I end up this way? I need an intervention, Mum. I need a kick up the backside before it’s too late. I think I’m going to go home and make a plan, a plan for how to be more spontaneous.’ I chuckled lightly, ‘Planned spontaneity? That’s a thing, right?’

I tapped my hand on the stone once more, then pushed myself up from the ground.

‘How did you do it, Mum? How did you just trust that it would all be okay and get on that plane to start a whole new life away from everything you’d ever known?’ This lovely little Scottish village I called home was my safety net. ‘Maybe I’ll talk to Dad. He’ll offer some pearls of wisdom.’ I released a sigh. ‘Okay, bye, Mum. Love you, see you next week.’

Fifteen years without my lovely mum, and without fail, come wind, rain or shine, I sat by her gravestone every Saturday morning for a wee chat about life. Dad came weekly, too, on Sundays, so we both got to talk to her in private.

I got into my car after saying good morning to a few people in the churchyard, some family members visiting their loved ones, and the gardener of the church, Donald, there with his wife, Miriam. He mowed the grass as she went around, wiping all the stones and clearing away the dead flowers. Every day they’dtended to this yard, every day for as long as I could remember. Stable, safe…

The drive to Dad’s from the church was short. The drive to anywhere here was short, given the size of the place. I parked in my spot on his drive, the same place I’d parked since the day I passed my driving test. Order, routine…

‘Hi, Dad,’ I called out as I entered the hallway leading to his kitchen and living room, although, given the weather, I expected him to be in the back garden. I took off my shoes and slid on the slippers I left by his door.

‘Hi, love, I’m in the garden,’ he called out, and I smiled as I headed back to find him. ‘Have you been to see your mum?’

‘Aye, I have. She says hello.’

He offered me a nod and a small smile before returning his attention to his roses, her roses, really. Mum loved her garden so much, and Dad refused to let it go, let it be anything other than her level of horticultural perfection.

‘Have you eaten, Dad?’

‘Yes, I have, sweetheart. You don’t need to worry about me all the time, Cara. Go out and live a bit.’

Live a bit. Dad always said that to me, and I always scoffed at it because I didn’t quite understand what he meant. I had breath in my lungs, and my heart was beating. I had my life sorted, a job, and a roof over my head. I was fit and healthy. I might have been a little sad from time to time, but I had thought I was living. I just hadn’t realized there was more to living than staying alive.

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