Page 23 of Take a Moment

‘I certainly am,’ Jim’s upbeat voice confirms in my ear. ‘Your relocation package has been approved and we’ve found you a small one-bedroom apartment to rent near the city centre. I’ll email you some photos. They’d like you to start next month.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged, Jim. I’ll put my notice in tomorrow. Thanks again.’

I terminate the call and take a moment to digest its full meaning. It’s all sorted. I’m moving to Birmingham in a few weeks’ time. My stomach churns with a mix of excitement, nervous anticipation and melancholy: for the second chance I’ve gained, and the life I loved so much, that I’ve lost. I turn back to Sasha.

‘It’s all confirmed. Are you ready to hear the details?’

By the next morning, I’ve managed to get Sasha on side. I also may have let her think she can come with me if she can find a job in Birmingham. Something I’m not particularly proud of, but it serves two purposes: perking Sasha up by thinking she’ll be with me ‘every step of the way’, as she put it; and I’ve realised I can use the idea of her moving with me to call off the wolves aka my mother and sister.

By the time Sasha realises that uprooting her whole life for me is ridiculous and totally impractical (her mum is also unwell with long-term heart problems and having suffered a recent heart attack), I’ll be home and dry, so to speak, in my new-build rental apartment. Sasha’s too much of a home bird to leave Glasgow anyway.

We’ve arranged to meet my mother, John and Carol for Sunday lunch at the Art Lover’s Cafe out at Bellahouston Park, my intention being to prevent them kicking off Glasgow-style when I break my news.

Sasha and I park the car at the back of the house and amble through the well-manicured gardens towards the beautiful iconic white building, designed by the late Charles Rennie Mackintosh. It’s one of my favourite places to visit, with its lavishly detailed interior design. So much so that Dom and I had actually considered it as a wedding venue, until the wedding coordinator told us they couldn’t cater for our numbers.

As this memory develops in full technicolour in my mind, my body reacts with an emotionally charged lump in my throat and an anguished tug at my heart, a feeling I’ve become too familiar with since our split. I place a hand on my chest, take a deep shaky breath to calm the swelling feeling of loss, and draw my focus back to what today is about.

‘You OK, Lex?’

I feel Sasha’s concerned eyes on me. ‘Yes, fine. I just love this place. Always gets me, you know?’

‘I do.’ Sasha appears convinced by my answer, her eyes following my gaze towards the building. ‘It really is one of Glasgow’s special places.’

The thunderstorms of the previous day have freshened the air, and the late July sunshine sporadically peeks through from behind light wispy clouds. Despite a drop in temperature, we’re still comfortable in our short sleeves and cropped trousers, so with ten minutes to spare, we grab a seat on a bench to enjoy the warmth on our faces.

‘Thanks again for this, Sash. I know I’ve put you in a bit of a position on this one.’

‘It’s fine.’ She looks at me from behind her green-rimmed oversized sunglasses. Her flaming red hair looks almost alight from the way the sun is catching it. ‘I may not like it, but I kind of get it.’

‘I appreciate that.’ I suddenly feel a bit guilty for having gotten so irritated by Sasha’s overbearing support over the last few months.

‘Anyway, I’ve already started looking for jobs in Birmingham and there are tons of options. Maybe this is what we both need. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to pack up and move somewhere else, but I’ve been too scared. Doing it together makes it seem easier.’

‘That’s good,’ I say automatically.

The guilt immediately dissipates. Despite me knowing Sasha won’t follow through on this, I realise it could become exhausting, very quickly. Probably more so because I know it will all be for nothing and she’ll eventually find a reason to back out (her mum being an obvious and quite genuine one).

We sit quietly for a few more minutes, enjoying the sun, until our zen is obliterated by the arrival of my mother and sister with John in tow.

‘There they are. Hey, wee sis!’ Carol’s high-pitched voice carries right across the gardens from the car park.

I can see my mother waving at us theatrically from afar. They trot along the path towards us, John trailing behind them at a slower pace.

‘Alex, dear, how are you?’ My mother reaches me and inspects me at arm’s length. Her wire-framed spectacles have darkened in the sun. ‘You look not bad. Have you been following that eating plan I sent you?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ I sigh.

‘Why ever not?’

‘She’s just being Alex, Mother.’ My sister perches her lipstick-pink sunglasses on her head and rolls her eyes dramatically. ‘Has to rebel against anything we say or do.’

I observe my mother and her familial shadow and decide this is not going to be how today is going to go. I invitedthemhere, so I’m going to take the lead from the off.

‘Yup, I sure do. But can you blame me?’ I greet John with a warm hug and lead them towards the entrance to the house at a reasonable pace, my fatigue thankfully now more manageable than it was.

We enter the Art Lover’s Cafe via the gift shop. It’s a bright, open space with fairy lights strung across the ceiling, square pillars perforating the room and tastefully art-bedecked white walls. We’re shown to our seats, where I strategically place myself between Sasha and John for reinforcement.

‘So, how are you doing, Alex?’ John asks me, while my mother and Carol debate the fat content of the duck liver parfait on the menu, and whether that would be good for mein my condition. ‘I mean generally, not in relation to your health.’

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