might think to register on my behalf as she did the rounds, but then I decided she wouldn’t. Karen had one thing on her mind, and that was Karen.
I slipped the lost phone into my backpack and hurried on. If I’d known the true weight of the mystery the little device held, if I’d known the impact my good intentions had set in motion, I’d have thrown it into the nearest river and never looked back.
When I wake I panic, wondering where I am, not knowing what day it is, let alone whose bedroom I’m in. To my left I see an empty bed – the white sheets rumpled around the indentation of sleep.
Mum
, I remember, sitting up.
The hotel
.
My head throbs, though I don’t know why. I feel groggy and queasy, making me wonder if I’m going down with a bug as well as everything else.
‘Mum?’ I call out, wondering if she’s in the bathroom. But she doesn’t reply.
The bedroom door suddenly opens, and I whip the duvet up under my chin.
‘Ah, the sleepyhead awakes!’ Mum says brightly. She’s wearing her tracksuit and her hair is wet. I smell chlorine on her as she bends down, giving me a kiss on the head.
‘I went for an early swim,’ she says, lifting the kettle from the tray on the side table. She goes into the bathroom and fills it. What her early swim tells me is that she couldn’t sleep either, that although I finally drifted off around 5 a.m., Mum no doubt lay awake most of the night, watching it get light. At one point I heard her whimper, perhaps a stifled sob.
‘The pool was empty,’ she says, faking a smile. ‘And the water was nice. You should go in.’
The thought of putting on a swimsuit fills me with dread. ‘Maybe,’ I reply, knowing I won’t.
‘Great,’ Mum says. She swipes a towel from the bathroom, rubbing vigorously at her hair. ‘We’ll go after our massages later, and have a sauna afterwards.’ She pulls back the curtains, making me screw up my eyes. I flop back down on to the pillow.
‘Massages?’ There are flashing lights behind my eyes. Within seconds they’ve turned into angry red dots.
‘A full-body massage,’ she says. ‘One whole hour of bliss and relaxation.’
Then comes the predictable sigh as Mum remembers how Dad booked this break for them; how, if everythingwere different, they’d be lying on the couches side by side, feeling their stresses melt away, reaching out, fingertips touching. Then they’d maybe take a walk or just enjoy each other’s company, doing what couples do. But instead, Mum has got me. All because of that phone.
‘I don’t want the massage.’ I fling back the covers. Cooper heaves himself from his bed when he sees me rise. ‘I’ll take him outside,’ I say, going into the bathroom and pulling on my tracksuit. When I come out, I hide my face from Mum. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the weekend without her finding out.
Hannah
Mum doesn’t know that I went to see the university counsellor. What a freak. What a failure. What a fucked-up waste of space I am. We walk through the lobby and I pull Cooper back as he strains at his lead. He’s keen to get out.
But after everything that had happened –
was
happening – I didn’t know where else to turn. Of course, I couldn’t and didn’t tell the counsellor everything anyway – that would be suicide. Which, by the way, was my only other option.
There were posters up everywhere around campus for the free sessions at the Well-Being Centre. In fact, there were posters covering every eventuality in life dotted around the place, making me wonder if all these things were going to happen to me during the next three years. Everything from drugs counselling to coming out as gay, fighting sexual harassment and dealing with STDs. By this time, actual studying couldn’t have been further from my mind, and I’d already fallen way behind.
After thinking about it for days, I finally approached the counselling service, nervous and tentative, unsure which bit of the knot of my
I slipped the lost phone into my backpack and hurried on. If I’d known the true weight of the mystery the little device held, if I’d known the impact my good intentions had set in motion, I’d have thrown it into the nearest river and never looked back.
When I wake I panic, wondering where I am, not knowing what day it is, let alone whose bedroom I’m in. To my left I see an empty bed – the white sheets rumpled around the indentation of sleep.
Mum
, I remember, sitting up.
The hotel
.
My head throbs, though I don’t know why. I feel groggy and queasy, making me wonder if I’m going down with a bug as well as everything else.
‘Mum?’ I call out, wondering if she’s in the bathroom. But she doesn’t reply.
The bedroom door suddenly opens, and I whip the duvet up under my chin.
‘Ah, the sleepyhead awakes!’ Mum says brightly. She’s wearing her tracksuit and her hair is wet. I smell chlorine on her as she bends down, giving me a kiss on the head.
‘I went for an early swim,’ she says, lifting the kettle from the tray on the side table. She goes into the bathroom and fills it. What her early swim tells me is that she couldn’t sleep either, that although I finally drifted off around 5 a.m., Mum no doubt lay awake most of the night, watching it get light. At one point I heard her whimper, perhaps a stifled sob.
‘The pool was empty,’ she says, faking a smile. ‘And the water was nice. You should go in.’
The thought of putting on a swimsuit fills me with dread. ‘Maybe,’ I reply, knowing I won’t.
‘Great,’ Mum says. She swipes a towel from the bathroom, rubbing vigorously at her hair. ‘We’ll go after our massages later, and have a sauna afterwards.’ She pulls back the curtains, making me screw up my eyes. I flop back down on to the pillow.
‘Massages?’ There are flashing lights behind my eyes. Within seconds they’ve turned into angry red dots.
‘A full-body massage,’ she says. ‘One whole hour of bliss and relaxation.’
Then comes the predictable sigh as Mum remembers how Dad booked this break for them; how, if everythingwere different, they’d be lying on the couches side by side, feeling their stresses melt away, reaching out, fingertips touching. Then they’d maybe take a walk or just enjoy each other’s company, doing what couples do. But instead, Mum has got me. All because of that phone.
‘I don’t want the massage.’ I fling back the covers. Cooper heaves himself from his bed when he sees me rise. ‘I’ll take him outside,’ I say, going into the bathroom and pulling on my tracksuit. When I come out, I hide my face from Mum. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the weekend without her finding out.
Hannah
Mum doesn’t know that I went to see the university counsellor. What a freak. What a failure. What a fucked-up waste of space I am. We walk through the lobby and I pull Cooper back as he strains at his lead. He’s keen to get out.
But after everything that had happened –
was
happening – I didn’t know where else to turn. Of course, I couldn’t and didn’t tell the counsellor everything anyway – that would be suicide. Which, by the way, was my only other option.
There were posters up everywhere around campus for the free sessions at the Well-Being Centre. In fact, there were posters covering every eventuality in life dotted around the place, making me wonder if all these things were going to happen to me during the next three years. Everything from drugs counselling to coming out as gay, fighting sexual harassment and dealing with STDs. By this time, actual studying couldn’t have been further from my mind, and I’d already fallen way behind.
After thinking about it for days, I finally approached the counselling service, nervous and tentative, unsure which bit of the knot of my
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