Dont Tell Me How to Live
Let me in, Hazel! I cant live with them anymore. Its not a home, its a prison, my younger sister sobbed as she stood on the doorstep.
Hazel looked like a runaway bridemascara streaked down her cheeks, lips quivering, clutching the handle of an oversized suitcase on wheels.
Hold on, hold on I yawned, still half-asleep as I stepped aside. What happened?
Theyre driving me mad, Will! You have no idea what its like over there. Yesterday I got in at ten instead of nine, and Dad grilled me like a police officer, sniffed me up and down like a bloodhound! Mum still hasnt learned to knockshe barges in when Im changing, chatting with my mates, or on a call Ive got zero privacy!
Hazel rattled off her complaints, breathless with indignation. Her arguments actually sounded pretty valid. At twenty, suffocating parental control really does feel like hell. Who wants their parents rummaging through their pockets, bursting into their room, demanding an account for every move?
Dont go there, dont eat that, dont hang out with those people! Hazel continued. Im not ten anymore. Im an adult. Ive got the right to live as I please, not as they want. Today I said Id stay over at a friends to study for my exam, and Dad declared, No sleepoversstudy at home. Is that normal? Am I in Year Five?
I listened to Hazel patiently, actually feeling sorry for her for a moment. Our parents really were old-fashioned, anxious, and overprotective.
To be honest, Id faced the same thing back then. At twenty I rebelled too. Didnt like Dad waiting at the window until eleven, Mum checking whether I wore a hat. But I did something decisive.
Im switching to distance learning, I told them seven years ago. And moving out.
To where? How will you pay the bills? Mum gasped.
A friend works at a beauty salonthey need a receptionist. Ill share a flat with some girls. Well manage. If I cant, Ill come back.
I managed, just barely. For the first six months I lived on plain rice, slept on a lumpy sofa, but nobody told me when to go to bed. My parents tried to helpwith money, groceriesbut I stubbornly refused.
Im fine. Ill do it myself, I said.
That was when they handed me the keys to Grandma’s old flat. Not so much a gift as a recognition of my independence.
Hazels case was different.
Two years ago, after our other grandmother passed away, Hazel inherited her flat. Shed just turned eighteen.
Finally! Hazel exclaimed, clutching her inheritance. Now Im a proper bride with a dowry. I can live alone!
Our parents looked stunned.
Well, the flats yours, Dad said. Winter utilitiesat least £250 a month if youre frugal. Food? Depends, but call it £400. Transport, clothes, makeup, internet So to live alone and keep studying, youll need at least £1,600 a month. Wheres that coming from?
Hazel fluttered her eyelashes. She had nothing to say. She saw her studiesas paid by Mum and Dadas a favour to the world.
And thats where it ended, really. Hazel wasnt rushing to move out anyway. Still, one thing bothered her: Mum and Dad started letting out her flat and using the rent to pay for her tuition, bills, food, and clothes. Occasionally she got pocket money, but she was still unhappyshe wanted to live in her own space and do nothing at all.
Recalling those tantrums, I eyed Hazel more closely: New coat, leather boots, fancy purse She didnt look much like a prisonermore like a princess moaning about a pea under ten mattresses.
They took my car keys, Hazel added, wiping her tears. Said until I clear my backlog at uni, Id have to take the bus. The bus! You wait at least half an hour for one!
What a nightmare, I said dryly, watching her drag her suitcase inside. So whats your plan now?
My sympathy was evaporating fast.
Ill stay with you. Just till they calm down and apologise. Youve got a two-bedroom flat, loads of space. I wont be a bother, honestly. Ill just sit quietly and study in my room
I pressed my lips together. I didnt want to judge her, but something was off.
Hazel, I sighed. Lets talk seriously. You want to live like I do? No control, no questions, no curfews?
Absolutely! She looked excited. I want to decide when I come home and what I wear.
Great. Then why not rent your own place or get a room in halls?
Hazel blinked in confusion, clearly thinking the question was silly.
Well, I dont have any money. Im a student!
Exactly. Youre a full-time student living off Mum and Dad. You eat their food, wear the clothes they bought, drive a car Dad pays for I started counting on my fingers. Freedom costs, Hazel. When I was your age, I worked and studied. You want the cake and eat it too.
Youyoure not going to let me stay?
I sighed. I really didnt want to get dragged into this, but the situation forced my hand.
Ill call Mum first, I said. Id like to hear their side of the story.
Hazel hesitated, but she couldnt stop me.
It was late, but Mum was still up. The chat got emotional and tenseI eventually switched my phone to speaker. It turned out Mum and Dad had taken Hazels car keys and limited her social life because she had more than just a few overdue assignments. She was on the verge of being expelled.
The lecturers are prejudiced! They dont like girls! Hazel protested, blushing.
Funnyall the others managed to pass, Dad retorted. What, you thought youd show off for your sister and keep laying about?
Dads right, I said. I dont run a shelter for slackers. And Im not your nanny.
Hazel shot me a burning look.
So everyones against me, then? Fine! Ill live in my own flat! Throw out the tenants. Ill live alone; no one will tell me what to do.
There was a pause. Hazel held her head high, sure shed cornered Mum and Dad.
Alright, Mum replied calmly. No problem.
Hazel nearly jumped with excitement.
Really? Youll kick them out? Tomorrow?
Not tomorrowproper notice, of course, Dad said. They get two weeks. Youll stay with us till your exams. But, Hazel You realise youll be living independently?
Um, yes, Hazel replied warily.
No more rent money for us, so, Dad paused, letting it sink in, youll pay for your own tuition. Utilities in your flaton you. Food, clothes, everything. We wont give you a penny. Youre an adult now, so live like one.
Hazels jaw dropped. She mustve thought Mum and Dad would cave and keep helping.
But but Im full-time! I cant work!
Will managed, Mum reminded her. He switched to part-time study and worked. Your choice, love. Want to live alone? Fine. But you pay for everything. The alternative is you live with us, our rules, and we support you. No third option.
Hazel looked at me, hoping for backup, but all she got was a wry grin.
Well, sis? I said. Welcome to adulthood. Want the fish? Watch for bones.
Six months went by. Our conversations shrank to the basicshowre you, everything alright. I knew only that Hazel no longer lived with Mum and Dad, and didnt pry further. I worried shed try guilt-tripping her way back.
One rainy afternoon, I ducked into a coffee shop near Hyde Park. And found Hazel behind the counter.
A medium cappuccino, no sugar? she asked, tired but polite.
She looked different now. Gone were the fake lashes and glittery nails; her nails were short, as per health regulations. Instead of a designer hoodie, she wore the cafes green apron, name badge pinned on. Shadows under her eyes, barely disguised by makeup.
Hey, I smiled, feeling a strange mix of pity and respect. Yes. And a croissant, if theyre fresh.
Hazel nodded without a smile, and got to work.
Fresh, brought in this morning.
She was quick and focused nowa far cry from her old leisurely self. She had to adapt, not demand everyone adapt to her.
Hows uni? I asked as she steamed the milk.
All sorted, Hazel muttered. Switched to part-time. Easier. By the way, Mum rang recentlyoffered food. I said no. I can manage.
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
Since when did you get so proud?
Not proudsensible. If Mum brings food, she expects clean floors and spotless shelves. Not interested. Porridge on waters just fine, as long as no one nags.
I chuckled. Hazel placed the cup down.
Thatll be three pounds fifty.
I tapped my card. The machine beeped.
Hard adjusting? I asked softly.
Hazel froze for a second. I caught the childish lookthe same as when shed showed up half a year ago with her suitcase. But she recovered quickly.
Its fine. At least no one lectures me. Sold the car, by the way. Tubes fasterand cheaper.
Youre doing well, Hazel. Really.
She smirked crookedly.
Yeah, well. Sometimes I practically fall asleep here. Anyway, youd best sit down, or Ill get told off for chatting.
I took a seat by the window, watching Hazel scrub the counter until it squeaked.
She got what she wanted: adult life, free of parental control. And actually, it wasnt so bad. Just, as it so often happens, the fish comes with plenty of bonesand you need to chew carefully to avoid choking.
I finished my coffee, slipped a £10 note under the napkin, then returned my cup to the counter and left.
It wasnt charity for a poor relation. It was a tip for a barista who had finally begun to balance expectations with reality.
