In Another Life

“Good morning!” A voice shrieks in my ear.

My eyes crash open and I scream, scrambling to my left, away from the invasive voice. With my heart hammering wildly against my ribs, I look for the intruder, clutching my blanket to my chest in pure terror. And then I relax when I see a tow headed little girl with brilliant brown eyes smiling happily at me.

“Owena Grace Matthews,” A familiar voice comes from my doorway and I look up to see Mum looking sternly at my baby sister, her hands planted on her wide hips. “I told you to wake your sister up nicely. That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

Owi shakes her head and looks back at me, instantly appearing contrite. “I’m sorry, Bry.”

I smile and scoop the five-year-old up into my arms. “It’s okay, Owi. I forgive you,” I whisper, cuddling her close.

Owi giggles childishly and throws her chubby baby arms around my neck. “I missed you, Bry!”

“I’ve missed you too,” I reply, letting her go as she wriggles to get away. I watch in amusement as she slides back off of my bed and darts out past our mother and into the main room of my flat. “I thought you weren’t going to be here until later,” I say to Mum, stretching my arms up towards the ceiling. “I would have been awake if I knew you were coming earlier.”

“Well your father came into London on the earlier train because he had an early meeting,” Mum shrugs and in the next room I can hear Owi arguing with Cadi, our other sister. “And I figured it would be easier to travel with him for the extra help, so here we are. I let myself in with my key, because I didn’t want to wake you up. But get up now, because I’m making breakfast.” She smiles fondly at me and then bustles out of the room, calling out for my siblings to quit their bickering.

I remain motionless for a moment, listening to the sounds from home that I’d come to miss the most in my absence of three years—the voices of my darling little sisters, the pots and pans banging together while Mum cooks and even the familiar pinging of my brother’s mobile phone from receiving text messages. When I first moved to London on my own, I would cry myself to sleep because I missed all of the comforts and familiarity that was my home in Essex.

But I’d gradually gotten over that with the help of my friends and frequent phone calls and visits back home. Even though I’m technically out on my own here in this apartment, there will always be that one part of me that revels in going home and slipping back into the routine of the old Bryn.

I slowly crawl out of my bed and head for the bathroom where I brush my teeth and scrub my face clean before I pull my hair back in a loose ponytail. Since it was just my family, I really wasn’t going to bother with looking fabulously put together.

I pad out into the living room and spot Griffith, my 16-year-old brother, lounging on my sofa with his mobile out and the television playing some skating competition. I walk into the kitchen where Mum is at the range, flipping something in a pan. Owi is clinging to her legs while 10-year-old Cadi is coloring in a coloring book at my kitchen table.

“Hi Bryn,” Cadi greets me cheerfully.

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and plant a kiss in her hair. “Hey Cadi. How’re you?”

“Good,” She says enthusiastically, turning in her seat and bearing her teeth. “I lost a tooth!”

I laugh and take in the prominent gap where her front tooth should have been. “Well done. How much did you get for it?”

“Two quid,” She answers proudly. “Mum wouldn’t let me bring it with me though. She thinks I’d lose it. I wouldn’t,” She leans around me to see Mum. “I just wanted to show Bryn. Honest.”

I look at Mum, who’s busy cracking eggs into a skillet, and then back at my little sister. “I’m sure it is an exquisite bill, but it’s not like I’ve not seen one before, Cads.”

“I know,” She grumbles, resuming her coloring begrudgingly. “Tad says a fairy gave it to me in exchange for my tooth. What does she do with it, Bryn? I want to know.”

I step to the refrigerator and pull out the orange juice carton. “I’ve no idea, Cadi. You’ll have to ask Tad.” She ponders over my words for a moment before she goes back to her art quietly. I glance over at Mum, who’s smiling as she cooks. “What does she do with it, Mum? I want to know.”

“Oh hush,” Mum laughs, turning off the gas and dumping the scrambled eggs onto a plate. “Go call your brother; breakfast is ready.”

I set my glass of juice down on the table before I lean into the living room. “Griff, it’s time to eat.”

He grunts a response back at me, far too absorbed in his cell phone to look at me properly. I leave him alone and return to the kitchen where I slip into a spot next to Owi. Mum is busy dishing her breakfast out onto everyone’s plate and it’s a busy couple of minutes as we all get settled and our morning meal begins.

“So Bry,” Mum says brightly, her fork of eggs halfway to her mouth. “Tell me what’s been going on in your life lately.”

I shrug, pouring a fair amount of syrup on my flapjacks and then pouring a bit on Owi’s pancakes, as well. “Nothing much. My life consists of school and work—I had an exam this past week in art history.”

“And how did that go?” She asks, pushing Cadi’s hand away from the plate of bacon in the middle of the table. “You have plenty on your plate. Plus you haven’t even touched your eggs.” She ignores her daughter’s cries that she doesn't like eggs and surveys me seriously. “It went well?”

I nod, swallowing my mouthful of food and reaching for my glass of orange juice. “Yes, I got top marks.”

She smiles, the dimple in her right cheek popping out. “Good. I expect your father’ll be asking you about your grades when he comes back from his meeting.”

“Probably,” I agree, shrugging my shoulders. “I actually have to run on to campus today.”

“Why?” She swats Cadi’s fork away from the bacon once again before she takes off two slices and puts it on her plate. “No more until you finish your eggs.”

A sudden explosion of nerves swell up in my stomach and I drop my gaze down to my plate. There’s no need to let her know just how nervous I was about this internship and all I was doing was dropping my resume off at Professor Harris’ office—it’s not like I was interviewing or anything. I really have no idea how I’m going to feel if I actually do get an interview request.

“I’m just dropping off some papers in my professor’s mailbox,” I answer carefully, sidestepping the truth neatly. “It’ll take me an hour or so and then I’ll be back.”

“Oh,” Mum takes a bite of her food and chews carefully. “Do you know what time you’ll be back around?”

I shake my head, reaching for the juice carton so I can fill my cup back up. “I guess it’d depend on when I left.”

“I was thinking about nipping down to the shops and picking up a few things for Cadi and Owi. It’s atrocious how quickly they grow,” Mum carries on, her brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “I also want to pick up groceries—your cupboards are so bare, Bry. I have no idea how you eat.”

“Can I go to the skate park?” Griffith speaks up suddenly.

Mum pauses. “With who?”

“Just some people,” He shrugs indifferently, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “I have friends in London too.”

“Well give me some names and perhaps I’ll let you go,” Mum retorts airily, her gaze suddenly snapping towards Owi. “Chew with your mouth closed, please, darling.”

Griffith rolls his eyes and pushes his eggs around with the tines of his fork. “Joshua and Darren.”

“Be sure you’re home by dinner time,” Mum responds. “Your father wants us all to eat together.”

My brother rolls his eyes again and reaches for his mobile. “Why? We never eat together at home.”

Mum purses her lips and manages a tight smile for him. “Because I said so and it’s nice to be a family every once in a while, Griffith James. Besides, your father and I need to talk to everyone about something,” She adds on vaguely, swatting Cadi’s fork away for the third time. “Honestly Cadi, eat your eggs or that’s it. You won’t eat until lunch.”

“Talk to us about what?” I ask, wiping my mouth carefully and picking up my dishes to carry to the sink. I turn in time to see Mum’s face soften into a tender smile as she looks at me. “What?” I say slowly, a bit unnerved by her sudden show of affection.

She waves her hand in front of her face and looks down at her plate. “Nothing, love. Now go drop your papers off so you can come back and go shopping with me!”

I nod, still a bit thrown by how she’s acting. But it all slips to the back of my mind as I enter my bedroom and catch sight of my resume. The ball of nerves appears in my stomach again and I can’t help but notice the way my hands tremble as I dress myself.



It’s always a bit odd coming to school on the days that I don’t have to be on campus.

There’s a different crowd of people and a different set of lectures being conducted. I’m so accustomed to being at school during a specific set of hours and I’m used to seeing the same people day in and day out that it throws me for a moment as I cut across the courtyard and tug open the heavy wooden doors that lead to the university’s professors’ offices.

The air conditioning is rumbling in the front hall and it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the sudden dim lighting. I move forward, pushing my sunglasses up into my hair as I look all around me interestedly. I’d only been in here once before with a friend to drop off a paper in her teacher’s mailbox. The only other time I come into contact with professors was either through email or after class—I never actively sought them out on my own.

I squint at the plaque on the wall that tells the different professors' office numbers, clicking my tongue against my teeth as I scan the names hurriedly until I come across a familiar title. And then the nerves in my stomach flair up all over again.

Dr. Gregory C. Harris B.A. … 3C

I cross the tiled floor to the elevator and hit the calling button before I step back and look at the lit up numbers. As I wait, my right leg taps up and down impatiently. I’m going over my resume in my mind, scrutinizing every detail bleakly. Should I have exaggerated a bit on my qualities and work experience?

I shake my head as the steel doors slide open and I step into the empty elevator and then hit the level three button. I start to move upward jerkily and I lean back against the cool wall for a bit of extra support. My gaze drops down to the floor and I catch sight of my new sandals in the reflective surface on the wall.

My mood brightens just a bit and a smile even appears as I look at my shoes with a bit of pride. I’d bought them for nearly 70% off and they are absolutely gorgeous—all silver and slinky with a bit of sequins at the toes. It’s so silly, but I pluck up a bit of courage at the sight of my new shoes.

But then the doors ping open and that little scrap of bravery disappears as I step out into the narrow hallway. It smells of stale coffee and freshly printed papers—I’d always liked the smell of fresh ink. Just like I loved the smell of paint and talcum powder. But today these do nothing to smooth the anxious wrinkles off my face.

I move forward carefully until my eyes find the third cubicle where Professor Harris’ name is stenciled onto the glass of the door. My stomach twists up even more as I go over all of the abbreviations after his name in awe. Who am I kidding? There’s no way he’ll accept my resume—this internship normally goes for students in their final years.

But I remember my promise to Jeanette and Amanda that I would at least put my application in his mailbox. If I didn’t get accepted, then fine. That was the end of that. But there’d be other internships and more opportunities to gain experience and knowledge.

So with a deep breath I reach forward and open the door to reveal a small, neat waiting room. I step onto the thin carpet and catch the door with my hand so that I don’t make a loud entrance. I wait until I can hear the soft reassuring click of the door shutting before I move forward, scanning the wall for his mailbox or a tray to put my application in for him to see.

Finally I spy a metal tray at the far end of the desk with ‘Internship Applications’ written neatly on a sign next to it. I step forward and glance at the resume on top, though I don’t recognize the name. I shouldn’t, I remind myself, because these would all be students ahead of me.

I place my own resume and application at the top and pause for just a moment, contemplating the enormity of what I’ve just done. I’ve submitted myself for a major job when the odds aren’t in my favor at all. I’d be better off going out for a smaller internship and working my way up.

But still. I can’t help admiring how my resume looks just as nice as the person before me.

“Miss Matthews?”

I jump away from the desk in fright and whirl about to see Professor Harris staring at me amusedly. I place a hand over my racing heart and muster up a weak smile. “P-professor Harris, hi. How are you?”

He’s holding a mug of fresh coffee and a sheaf of papers tucked under his arm. “I’m well, thank you. Just wondering why you’re in my office. I don’t think we have an appointment—is there a problem with your thesis?”

I shake my head, my grin faltering. “No. I was just… submitting my application for the internship,” I gesture at the tray feebly. His gaze is smoldering and I shrink under the pressure, well aware of how silly I must look to him now. “I know it’s normally for older students, but I thought that I-I was just as qualified and eager for the chance to—”

“I’m glad you found the flyer on your own,” He states suddenly, walking forward and placing his papers on the desk. “I actually meant to keep you behind after lecture one day and ask you to submit your application. I don’t say this often to undergrads, but I feel you’re a strong candidate for the position.”

It’s like my whole world has come to a shrieking halt. I can do nothing but gape attractively at my teacher and wonder if I’m just delirious with nerves and I’ve somehow managed to imagine his words. I wouldn’t put it past myself; I’m not sure if I’m even still breathing at this point.

“Miss Matthews?”

The smile that suddenly blossoms across my face is brilliant and I just know that as soon as I leave the room, I’ll be cringing over how childish and unprofessional I’m acting. But in this moment, I can’t seem to find it in me to care. One of the most distinguished professors at my university, the man that I had secretly worshipped since I took his freshman class three years ago, has given me such a huge compliment.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, biting down on my lower lip. “Thank you so much.”

He peers at me through his wire-rimmed glasses and suddenly he smiles, revealing deep wrinkles around the corners of his eyes. “Don’t act so surprised; you’re a talented young woman. I have high hopes for your career.”

“I just—I—thank you,” I blunder through my words horridly and I realize that he’s most likely questioning his words. I’m really showing off my brains right now. “Wow.”

“I’ll review your resume and be in contact with you should I decide if you’re qualified,” He carries on smoothly, graciously ignoring my sudden thick tongue.

I realize that I’m being dismissed, so I nod and smile brilliantly at him once again. “Thank you, Professor.”

And then while he starts to rifle through his papers, I slip out of the room and make my way towards the stairs. I can’t stand still right now, so the elevator is out of the question. My feet carry me forward automatically, though I feel as if I’m floating.

I burst out into the bright sunlight and exhale heavily, releasing the breath that I’d been holding the entire time inside. My arms wrap around my waist in a tight hug and I start to walk towards the tube that will take me back home. I’m on a completely different planet right now.

The world is beautiful today and life is good.



“Hello?”

“Tad, we’re in here,” Owi shrieks, bouncing in her seat. I watch in amusement as her blonde wispy hair moves with her body. “In the kitchen!”

I turn as my father appears in the doorway of my kitchen, looking tired but happy. His gaze lands immediately on me and he opens his arms. “Bryn love, give your old man a hug.”

“Hi Tad,” I whisper, leaning against him as he envelopes me in his warm embrace. “How was your meeting?”

Tad releases me and moves for Mum, who’s busy carrying the platter of chicken she’s marinated and grilled for dinner tonight. “It went well; I think we’ve landed another client, but I don’t know for sure. I guess we’ll find out on Monday. What’s for dinner, sweets?” He address Mum, who flushes at the affectionate nickname.

“Chicken, garlic potatoes and biscuits,” She answers, pushing her hair away from her flushed face. “It’s all of Bryn’s favorites.”

I nod happily as I sink down into my seat. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a proper home cooked meal. I’ve missed it,” I help myself to the potatoes as Tad washes his hands at the sink and Mum begins to dish out the meal. “Are you staying for the night or taking the late train back?”

Owi’s eyes light up and she claps her hands excitedly. “Can we stay at Bry’s house for the night, please?! It can be like a sleepover!”

Mum glances over at Tad, who shrugs his thick shoulders carelessly. “I suppose we could stay the night. You don’t have to be into work tomorrow, do you, Jack?”

Tad nods, sitting down in the empty seat next to Mum. “I'll take a personal day.”

“The sofa pulls out into a double bed, so the girls can sleep there. You and Tad can have my bed and I have an inflatable mattress in the closet for Griff. I’ll sleep on the armchair or something,” I chime in, suddenly overwhelmed with homesickness. I don’t want my family to leave just yet. “I have plenty of tshirts for everyone to sleep in.”

“Bry, you’re acting like you miss us,” Tad jokes, winking at me as he helps himself to a piece of chicken. “I think she misses us, Aerona.” He whispers to Mum.

She smiles at me and nods her head. “We miss her too, Jack. Of course we’ll stay the night.”

“Sleepover!” Owi and Cadi scream together until Mum shushes them.

“Girls, use your inside voices,” She admonishes them gently before she glances at her husband. “Shall we tell them our news, Jack?”

Tad looks all around the table and I suddenly remember Mum’s surprise. She’d been a bit secretive all day long and it was driving me crazy. I had imagined every possible scenario from divorce to a terminal illness. Each of my theories was just as crazy as the last—my rationality apparently left me completely.

“Children,” Tad says and all of our eyes pivot up to his solemn face earnestly. “Your mother makes a wicked chicken breast,” He announces, looking down at his plate meaningfully.

A groan comes out of my mouth as I jokingly glare at my father. “Tad, be serious!”

“What your father is trying to say is,” Mum lays her hand on his arm and he suddenly turns somber again. “Is that we’re going to have another baby.”

A stunned silence thunders down upon our dinner table and I can do nothing but gape at my parents in horror. Surely they're joking. I’m 23-years-old and their youngest is 5, nearing 6. How on earth did they plan on raising a baby now? If Mum’s pregnant, that must mean they’ve—

I shudder at the mental image and then look over at Owi, who’s looking at our mother in confusion. “I’m going to have a sister?”

“A sister or a brother,” Tad replies kindly. “We’ll find out in a few weeks. What do you want, Cadi?” He addresses his second eldest daughter.

She looks contemplative and then smiles, revealing the adorable gap in her teeth. “Another sister.”

“No way,” Griffith pipes up. “It’ll be a boy. We have plenty of estrogen already. We don’t need any more.”

“Look at that,” Tad roars, reaching over and ruffling Griffith’s hair fondly. “He cares, look at that smile! He’s just as excited as I said he’d be,” He goads him lightly, finally releasing him. “He’s right; we need another man to carry on the Matthews legacy.”

I slip up out of my chair as Mum tells her husband to hush and I move until I’m right next to my mother. And then I bend over and hug her tightly, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Congratulations, Mum.”

She hugs me back tightly and I know that my support means more to her then she cares to let on. It might be weird of me to admit, but my mum is one of my best friends. And I am thrilled at the prospect of another soft velvety baby, because I know that Mum has always wanted a big family.

“Thank you, love.” She squeezes me once more and then lets me go. Her eyes are strangely misty and she fans her eyes hurriedly, laughing a bit at herself. “And there goes the hormones.”

“I always forget about those,” Tad muses thoughtfully, cutting into his chicken again. “Though they’re a walk in the park compared to the labor.”

Mum launches into her rant about how Tad will never know exactly what it’s like to birth a small human being, so she reserves the right to be as ridiculous as she wants during her delivery. I slip back into my seat and gaze around the table with shining eyes, far too happy to return to my dinner just yet.

I wish I could take this moment and just freeze time so that my family and I are always this happy together.