How to Start Over
Where on earth are you off to, looking so glamorous? Mum called after me, tryingand failingto hide her annoyance. I caught sight of the clock above the door: nearly eight in the evening. Do you know what time it is?
I smiled faintly at my reflection, smoothing a stray lock of hair behind my ear before turning to face her. A difficult, uncomfortable talk was imminent, but Id grown accustomed to itand grown adept at letting it slide off me.
Mum, I havent been sixteen for ages I replied calmly, a wry smile lingering. Im a grown woman and I really dont owe you an explanation. Not anymore.
Her face tightened at once: little wrinkles appearing on her forehead, her lips pressing together into a thin line. What cheek! How dare I talk to her like that?
But you still live under my roof! her voice rose, full of outrage at my response, as though standing up to her was unthinkable. And dont forget, whos supposed to look after your child while youre off? If youre expecting me to run after that unruly eight-year-old all evening, think again! Im not babysitting a boy whos got no respect for me.
She made it abundantly clear how thoroughly she disapproved of all this. Grown bold, had I? Showing my teeth? Did I not remember crawling back here, practically begging for help on hands and knees after the divorce?
All I want is a quiet cuppa and a bit of telly of an evening she moaned, throwing her arms in the air to express the chaos shed be sure to endure if forced to mind her grandson. Instead, its chasing him around, pleading with him to do his homework, putting up with his moods! Do you know how exhausting that is? Always the same: he wont eat, hes bored, hes complaining about homework as if its the greatest injustice in the world. And Im supposed to deal with it?
Ive had enough! I snapped suddenly, my expression shifting in an instant from composed amusement to steely resolve. Max is staying at Helens tonight. And for the record, Mum, youd be the last person on earth Id turn to for help with him. I dont want him growing up taking cues from someone like you. Children soak everything up, you know.
For a split second, Mum was frozen, gawping in disbelief. Then, clutching her chest as if mortally wounded, she pulled a face so exaggerated it might have been funny if the situation werent so tense.
Listen to you! she blurted, voice trembling, painting herself the wronged party as only she could. Wasnt it me who took you back after your divorcenot just you, but that boy as well! Opened my door, gave you your own room Did everything for you, and this is what I get!
She hesitated, clearly waiting for me to softento feel guilty. But I didnt so much as blink. I knew all her little tricks by now and had no intention of biting.
In case youve forgotten, a quarter of this house is mine I cut in, not allowing her to gather steam for another tirade. Youre not the sole landlady around here. So I have every right to stay, and I dont need anyones say-so.
I took a certain satisfaction in the stunned look on her face. Was she expecting me to keep begging for scraps of approval?
Youre the one with no right to make life difficult for me in my own home I continued, a triumphant edge to my tone, like letting out a truth Id bottled for years. My fingers shook as I rifled through my bag, checking Id packed everything. I tried to keep my composure, even as anger threatened to override my movements.
Besides, we wont be here long, I added, fixing her with a look. Few weeks, a month tops. Then youll have the whole place to yourself again.
Mum laughed coldly, her voice echoing off the hallway walls, making me flinch despite myself. She folded her arms, glaring at me with a mix of contempt and self-righteousness.
And where exactly will you go? she mocked, drawing the words out with that certainty people have when they think they know everything. Youve got nothing! You cant even get a mortgageno deposit, nowhere to borrow it from.
She paused, letting her words sink in before hammering the point home, as if nailing down my coffin lid:
Your ex was cleverhad the flat put in his mothers name, so you got nothing in the settlement. You let yourself be taken for a ride. Im embarrassed youre my daughter, honestly. Clearly I didnt raise you right.
I felt everything inside me knot with anger, but I was determined not to let her see the effect. My fingers gripped the strap of my bag, knuckles white. I tried to steady my voice as much as possible.
Thats not your concern I ground out, barely keeping the sharpness from my tone. Flames flickered in my eyes, but I forced myself to douse them. Im not your naive little girl anymore. Thats it. Goodnight. Oh, and the loving granny act doesnt washMax left hours ago.
I didnt wait for her response. I turned and strode out, my heels loud on the floorboards, echoing through the hollow corridor. I practically ran down the stairs, desperate to be outout of that house, away from her words, away from the cold home that never truly felt welcoming.
Outside it was chilly, but I barely noticed. Fury roared inside, clouding my thoughts, making each breath catch in my throat. I walked blindly, away from her and everything she represented. My mood was ruined beyond repairthat familiar, heavy gloom seemed to swallow all the colour and joy from the world.
Why did I have to get a mother like her? I kept asking myself, fists clenched, marching onwards. I knowsome would judge me for thoughts like these, call me ungrateful, an undutiful daughter. But I didnt care. In my heart, I was growing ever more certain: sometimes youre better off without a mother, at least like mine. Someone who points out your every flaw instead of supporting, mocks instead of comforts, dishes out cold calculation in place of love.
To those who met my mother, Anne, for the first time, she seemed a model of warmth. She knew how to win people over: her smile, her gentle tone, the way she nodded as though she truly cared. Neighbours respected hershed always help: with advice, a loan, or a sympathetic ear, murmuring, Dont worry, everything will sort itself out.
But those close to her saw the other sidea woman relentless and controlling, convinced only her opinion counted. Truly, she believed she alone knew what was best for everyone, happy to make that abundantly clear. She spoke bluntly and, if challenged, her gaze iced over, her words growing hard and unforgiving.
I grew up under her rules: what to wear, which clubs to join, who to befriend. Even my friends faced scrutiny, as if applying for some important role.
Dont be friends with her, shed say, learning Id befriended a girl from a broken home. Not the right sort.
And that boys trouble, shed add, frowning about a cheeky neighbours son. Friends like that never lead to anything good.
But then there was often a girl she would approve of without hesitation:
Now shes a good one. Her mum works at the council, and those connections are bound to come in handy.
When the time came to pick a future, she didnt bother to ask what I wanted. The decision was made before I ever had a chance. Apparently, I was to train as a nurse. End of story. Whether I liked itor even fainted at the sight of bloodmattered little. Mum put it down to attention-seeking.
Youre making it up, shed sniff, arching a brow at me. You just dont want any responsibility.
I tried to explain it wasnt an act, that I really did feel ill at the sight of a cut, but she never believed me. Any protest was weakness, an unwillingness to apply myself.
In the end, I did the only thing I saw possible: I got married. Id just turned eighteen when Tom, a guy I barely knew, proposed. There was no time to be choosyI simply needed out. Out from the stifling grip of a mother who ran my life as if it were hers.
Of course, I realised marriage was serious, but at the time it felt like freedomthe only way to escape the endless judgement, to have some control, however small, over my life.
My marriage to Tom, predictably, didnt last. At first, after the wedding, there was a brief spell where independence felt good; we made plans and tried, not really knowing how. But after a year the cracks showedwe werent ready for the pressures of marriage.
It started with petty argumentsover chores, shopping, money. Then things grew worse: Tom started coming home late, often with a whiff of drink on him, snapping at any questions. I tried to talk things through, but he brushed it aside.
Its fine. Dont make a fuss. Just knackered, thats all.
Then our son arrived, and the strain only grew. Sleepless nights, crying, exhaustionall fuel for more arguments. Some days we shouted ourselves hoarse; other times we simply stopped talking altogether.
It wasnt long before I learnt Tom wasnt exactly faithfuland, worse, made no attempt to hide it. One night, returning home late, he tossed offhandedly:
By the way, I met someone. Nothing serious, but you can leave if you want.
I stood in the hall, Max sleeping in my arms, and couldnt conjure up a reply. I wanted to scream, slap him, demand answersbut all I did was nod and tuck Max in.
I had nowhere to go. My father was long gonejust Mum remained, our relationship ever fraught. I had no close friends who could take in a mother and young son. So I stayed, putting up with late arrivals, apathy, and the jibes. Sometimes I just cried in the kitchen, making sure Max didnt hear.
Id left nurses college before Max was even bornonly lasted six months before pregnancy took over every plan I had. Id tried to juggle a baby and study, but it was hopeless; soon my only thought was how to keep going at all.
Once Max started school, I finally had some chance to study again. After lots of soul-searching, I settled on a local college and enrolled in an evening bookkeeping course. It wasnt the dream Id had as a girl, but it was somethingsomething that could make me independent.
I worked in the day, studied in the evening, often falling asleep with a textbook open on my lap. Each time I got a good mark, hope flickered in memaybe life could change after all.
And so, when I finally felt I was able, I made the calldivorce. I had work, I had my qualification (not the one I wanted, but still), and Max was getting older, more independent. All that remained was finding somewhere to live.
Renting on my salary wasnt an option; London prices were far beyond me, and my pay only just covered essentials. Then I remembered my share of Mums house. By law, I had a right to stayit was my only option that didnt mean ruin.
The prospect of moving back filled me with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was the house Id grown up inevery nook and cranny familiar. On the other, it was the place where Id never been treated like an adult, where my choices were always overridden.
Still, there was no alternative. I took a long, steadying breath and dialled Mums number
*****
Youll go mad if you move back in with her, my friend Helen insisted, nervously fidgeting with the tablecloth at my kitchen table. And spare a thought for Max! Your mums a nightmare, and shes never had any time for your boy. Shell crush his spiritand you know he wont stand for that.
I gazed out of the window, watching the first snowflakes drift down as if whispering secrets. After a deep breath, I turned to Helen.
Its only temporaryjust a couple of months I answered with a weary but resolute note. I know what shes likebelieve me. But Ive got no other option. Then well be out and gone, and the calls will be few and far betweenif she even wants them, because I certainly wont be the one reaching out.
Helen leaned right back, studying me carefully. Something in my tone seemed to worry herfar too composed, too accepting of the situation.
And then what, after a couple of months? she asked quietly, head tilted. You sound as if youve got some grand plan up your sleeve. Thats not like you, not at a time like this.
I gave her a little smile, not broad, as if keeping a secret close.
Im not as daft as Mum thinks I said at last, looking straight into her eyes. Id do almost anything for Maxs future. Theres someone someone whos shown an interest in me.
Helens eyes sparkled with curiosity, opening her mouth to press for details, but I quickly held up a hand.
Please, dont be cross, but Id rather not say his name just yet. Its not that I dont trust youI just dont want to tempt fate. For the first time, I feel like a real opportunitys come along.
Helen nodded, trying to hide her impatience. She respected my boundaries, though.
And you like him? At least a little? she asked after a moment. She sounded genuinely concerned; she knew how easily desperation could push me into another bad decision. You only married Tom to escape your mother, remember, and look where that led. Maybe you and Max should come stay with me instead. Itd be tight, but wed manage. Max could be mates with the neighbours boytheyre the same age.
I turned my empty mug in my hands, glancing out at Londons evening, the streetlights golden beyond the kitchen windows warmth and safety. When I met Helens eyes, I smiled for realunforced, this time.
Hes a good man, I began quietly, but steadily. He genuinely likes me, and he absolutely adores kids. Hes got a son, just a little older than Maxthey met on the playground, actually. Thats how we started chatting, at first just about the boys, then about everything else.
I paused, recalling our early conversationshow kind he was about Max, how hed laugh at his antics, how hed jump in to help pick up scattered Lego on the grass without a flicker of irritation. Hed only ever been interested, never condescending or exasperated.
Being with him feels easy, I continued, as if reliving those afternoons. He never tries to change me, never bosses me about or tells me how to raise Max. Always patient, supportive. And hes a brilliant dadnever shouts, always explains things, reads stories at bedtime
Helen listened in silence, watching as a light came into my eyesone she hadnt seen for a long time.
And yes, I added, voice firm. Im not making a mistake this time. Ive weighed it all up, and this is my choice: for Max, for myself. Its not just running awayits moving towards something, to a family where were wanted and loved.
I exhaled deeply, as if shrugging off some invisible burden.
I know you worry, Helen, and I cant thank you enough for your offer. But I have to give myselfand Maxthis chance. If not now, when?
Helen nodded again, eyes still anxious, but she reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
All right she said softly. If youre sure, Im behind you. But promise me youll be careful. My doors always open if you need it.
I felt warmth fill me at that, squeezing her hand back.
Thank you I whispered. It means everything
*****
I was right, in the end, telling Mum wed only be staying a few weeks. Life turned in our favour far quicker than expected: Michael proposed. He was exactly the chance Id been hoping fora real fresh start. We packed our things in double-quick time: a few bags of clothes, Maxs favourite toys, the bare essentials. It took only hours, as if fate itself couldnt get us out of there fast enough.
Max was the happiest of all. Hed never hidden his dislike of my mothers stern rules and constant criticism, and hardly suffered her company at the best of times. Now his eyes shonehe could finally relax and be himself.
When Mum heard about the engagement, she reacted at oncedemanded to meet Michael. Her voice quivered with indignation.
I must meet him! If I dont approve, therell be no wedding! I wont let you be reckless again!
My answer was firm, without hesitation:
Thats not happening, Mum. Your approval isnt required.
It lit the fuse at once. She stormed outsideperhaps so all the neighbours could hear her righteous angerbellowing about my foolishness, my ingratitude, my total lack of respect.
People who knew her as the always-polite lady down the road, ever helpful and neat, were shocked. Some tried to calm her, suggesting not to make a spectacle. In return, they got a torrent of abuse. People edged away, whispering with raised eyebrows: Whod have thought? She always seemed so calm
Later, she tried phoning around the neighbours, offering excusesthat shed got carried away, that she just cared about her daughter. But it was too late: the impression was made. In their eyes, shed turned into the woman whod thrown the huge family row right out in the street.
As for me, I was finally happy. My new marriage was everything Id longed for: warm, dependable, filled with understanding. Michael wasnt just kindhe became a rock for both me and Max. With him, there was no need for pretence, no fear of a careless word or step.
I managed to chase another dream tooI started university. It wasnt easy: juggling classes, work, and domestic life, but every morning, cracking open a textbook or sitting in a lecture, I felt alivethat fire my mum stifled years ago finally rekindled. I was studying what I really loved at last, and it filled me with purpose.
My new job wasnt glamorous, but it was steady: a decent boss and room to grow. I learnt to budget, put money aside for a rainy day. Those savings werent just practicalthey represented freedom, a safety net only I controlled.
Sometimes, Id look back at that eveningthe one when I left Mums house with my life packed in bagsand Id find myself smiling. It had seemed impossible, but now I finally had it all: a loving husband, a happy son, work, study, andabove allthe sense that the life I was living was truly my own. There would still be difficulties, of course, but I knew Id cope.
Because this time, the choice was mine.
