Trying to Get Rid of Me
What on earth are you wearing? Barbara Wilson eyed her daughter up and down, gaze lingering on the skirt. Thats indecently short. At your age, its time to stop dressing like a teenager.
Caroline instinctively tugged at the hem, though her skirt nearly touched her knees. It was a plain office pencil skirt shed snagged at last months sale. It had seemed like such a good finda classic cut in a neutral colour.
Mum, theres nothing wrong with it, Caroline tried to keep the irritation out of her voice. I wear this to work.
Thats just it. People will look and think all sorts of things. When I was your age…
Caroline stopped listening. Shed heard the same story a hundred timesabout modesty, about how in our day a respectable woman dressed. Rather than reply, she slid a swollen envelope onto the table, its outside stamped with the logo of a travel agency.
This is for you, Mum…
Barbara Wilson broke off mid-rant. She looked at the envelope, looked at her daughter, then back at the envelope.
What now, Caroline?
Open it.
Caroline had been waiting for this moment for half a year. Shed set aside every spare pound, denied herself coffee, new shoes, weekends away with friends. Shed found Mums dream spa hotelGeorgian columns, mineral springs, the works. Booked the best room. Thought through every detail.
Barbara slid out the ticket and skimmed it. Caroline waited, hoping for a hug, or at least a soft thank you, a trace of warmth in her eyes. Instead, her mother pursed her lips and pushed the envelope away with her fingertips, as if it were something filthy.
Once again, youve made all the decisions for me.
Carolines breath caught.
Mum, its Bath. You always said you wanted…
And who will water my violets? Did you think of that? Barbara tapped the table. Three weeks gone and theyll be dead.
Ill pop by every day.
You work full-time. Youll forget, then youll be too busy. And anyway, I bet they only feed you cabbage there. Ive read about these new spa hotelseverythings about saving money now.
Caroline stared at her mother in disbelief. Six months giving up every treat, just for this?
Mum, theres a restaurant with five dining rooms. A la carte menus. Massages, pools, nature walks
Nature walks! Barbara mimicked her. Learning fancy words now, are you? Couldnt stop to ask if I actually wanted all this?
A lump rose in Carolines throat. Shed hoped for a small well done. She had lived for those two words her whole life.
Caroline sank into a chair, her legs suddenly made of jellyas though her body had chosen for her that she simply couldnt stand and take any more. She glanced at the envelope, pushed to the edge of the table, and said nothing.
And another thing, Barbara began pacing the kitchen, fussing with the already spotless tablecloth. The climate down theres ghastlyhumidity awful. My blood pressure will shoot up in a day. Did you even think of that?
Caroline remained silent, realising she no longer wished to defend herself. For the first time in years, she felt no urge to try.
And the journey? How long even is thathours on a wretched train? My back cant take it. Mum sat opposite, folded her hands, bracing herself for a long speech. And take Kate from next dooruseless husband, drinks himself silly, but at least Kate visits her mum every day, shopping, sitting with her
Caroline noticed the deepening lines around her mother’s mouth, the grown-out grey at her parting beneath some faded dye, the familiar veined hands that once braided her hair before primary school. Those lips had sung lullabies. It seemed so distant.
Are you even listening to me?
Im listening, Mum.
Doesnt seem like it. Youre sitting there like a statue. Im trying to talk sense, but you
Barbara reeled off her list: cramped hotel rooms now, noisy fellow guests, young doctors who knew nothing but writing prescriptions. Caroline nodded as expected, but inside, a vast emptiness spread.
The clock ticked the minutes away. An hour. More. Barbara shifted gears from the spa hotel to bigger complaintslonely evenings, rare phone calls, a daughter gone her own way.
Youve no idea what its like for me, alone here, have you? Mum snapped her chin up. Just want to get me out of sight, so you can enjoy yourself, dont you?
Mum, its a present.
A present! Barbara threw up her hands. A presents meant to be enjoyable, not this! You bought it to soothe your own conscience. Send your mum off somewhere, live your life undisturbed, is that it?
Caroline rose slowly. Her legs still refused to work, but she gripped the envelope tight.
Youre right, Mum. Youd be miserable there. Ill cancel it.
Barbara looked at her, an odd flickerconfusion, as though shed readied herself for a fight and her opponent had just walked away.
What do you mean, cancel?
Just that. Ill get my money back. Youre rightI didnt think.
Caroline, leave it on the table.
Why? You dont want to go.
I never said I dont want to go! I said you should have asked if I wanted to! Mums voice rose, colour rushing into her cheeks. You always do thisyour way or nothingthen act shocked if Im upset!
Clutching the envelope, Caroline made for the hallway, heart pounding, but her resolve strengthening every step.
Where are you going? Caroline! Im talking to you!
Mum, Im tired.
Tired! I gave my life for you! We went hungry, your father left us, I raised you single-handed, and this is my thanks?
Caroline turned. She saw her mothers lips quivering with fury, her face drained of colour.
You just said you didnt want to go.
I said you never asked me!
All right, Im asking now: Mum, would you like to go to Bath?
Barbara gasped indignantly.
Are you taking the mickey? Are you trying to torment me? Honestly, youre a heartless robot! Leave the ticket, Ill think about it!
Caroline carefully released her mothers grip, still clutching the envelope.
Ill ring you tomorrow, Mum.
Then she closed the door before Barbara could reply.
Mums shouted curses caught up with her on the landing, muffled through the closed door: something about ungratefulness, wasted youth, and how shed regret all this. But Caroline didnt pause or turn back. Her feet carried her down the stairs, past battered post boxes and nodding neighbours.
Outside, a drizzle had started. Caroline tilted her face upwards, letting the cold drops land, breathing in the smell of damp pavements. People hurried round her, someone tutted under their breath, but she was past caring. The envelope was still in her handand suddenly, the idea of going to Bath herself didnt seem so strange. Georgian columns, spa baths, no disapproval with breakfast.
She walked aimlessly until she found herself by a little café on the corner. Warm lamplight bathed tables set with crisp white cloths and little vases of fresh daffodils, while people dined quietly, unhurried. Caroline stepped inside.
Evening, a waiter greeted her, offering a menu with genuine warmth. Are you on your own?
Yes, she replied, surprised at how natural the word sounded.
She picked a table near the wall, away from the rest, unfolded her napkin and glanced at the menu. Her gaze landed straight away on the priciest dessertpear tart with caramel and salted fudge. And a glass of rich, deep red wine.
Her mother would have called it madness. Money down the drain. Caroline pictured the pursed lips, the reproachful stare, the endless refrain of when I was your age… as she placed her order.
The wine was velvety and ever-so-slightly tart. Caroline took a sip, letting herself relax in the chair. A strange new feeling crept inlightness where there had always been a burden. She remembered dreading a C at school because Mum would not speak for a week after any shameful mark. Choosing economics at university over literature, because its sensible. Three years with Tim, who she loved, breaking it off when Mum insisted he was going nowhere.
The tart was soft and melted in her mouth. Caroline gazed at the caramel, realising she couldnt remember the last time shed done something simply because she wanted tonot for her mums approval or a choked well done, but only for herself.
Her phone buzzed in her bagonce, twice, then a flurry. Seven missed calls from Mum and three voicemails. Caroline turned it off.
She finished her wine and dessert, asked for the bill, and left a generous tipjust because she couldbefore stepping out into the night. The drizzle had stopped; a sweep of fresh sky glimmered above the rooftops, first stars peeping through.
And Caroline realised she had taken the hardest step already: allowing herself, just this once, to matter more than someone elses demands. For the first time, she understoodyou cannot pour from an empty cup, and living to please is no way to live at all.
