Status: updates are kind of slow. sorry.
Hard Water
ii
"You sure you want me to go, Mum? I'll stay if you want me to."
"Don't be silly, love," my mother answered my frenetic worrying as patiently as ever, "there's no point. You go and have a lovely time. I'm so happy for you, Mona-"
"I don't have to go, honestly. We can get married another time."
My mother sighed softly on the other end of the phone. "You're not having second thoughts, are you, darling?"
I gulped. She knew me too well, more than I'd admit. "No. Of course not, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about." I ran a hand through my hair. It was too late now. We were already at the near-empty port in Aberdeen waiting to board: Callum was checking in a few metres in front of me, and seemed to be engaged in a casual conversation to the drippy girl behind the desk. It was a freezing, early morning and I was tired and anxious about my mother, and Callum had been no help, grumbling about traffic all throughout our drive up until I turned up the radio to drown him out. I glared at him from a distance and pulled up my zip, burying my face in my massive red scarf. "All right," Mum said after a long pause, relenting, "if you say so. I love you, Mona."
"I love you too, Mum."
"I don't know if I'll be here when you get back." she said sadly, and instantly choked up. Through the tears blurring my vision combined with the harsh whipping of the wind, I could only faintly make out Callum waving at me impatiently. It was time to board. "Don't say that, Mum," I said, my voice sounding strangled, "please."
She laughed softly. "I'm sorry, Mona. I'm not getting any better, that's all. Goodbye now."
"Bye, Mum." I whispered, then squinted at my phone screen. She had hung up; she had always been down-to-earth, levelheaded, never melodramatic. She saw everything in black-and-white, exactly how it was. It was how she had always lived. I wasn't surprised.
"Mona! Come on," yelled Callum, already wheeling our two suitcases onto the pier, and I reluctantly pulled up my hood and hurried to catch up with him. "Do you want us to miss the fucking boat?" he huffed from a few strides ahead of me.
"That might have been the last time I ever speak to my mother." I said quietly, more to myself than to him. The realisation hit me like a train.
My words were washed away by the wind. He didn't hear.
"What are you talking about now?" he said obnoxiously. "You gotta speak up. I can never understand what you're saying." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I sniffed, then hurried to swipe them away. We arrived at the boat and found a seat near the edge. The sight of the sea was instantly calming to me, and I managed to pull myself together a little, inhaling the fresh air as the engine hummed and the boat set off. Callum wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into him, and I greedily soaked in his warmth. "Sorry," he said, "I'm just a little stressed today. I want everything to be perfect."
"I know." I murmured when he stroked my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
Callum reached into his pocket and fumbled around. I rolled my eyes. "Do you think I can light up? There's barely anyone here, and we're out in the open." I glanced around; the boat was almost bare, with only a small group of people sitting on the other side of the deck. They were elderly, perhaps birdwatchers: I smiled a little. Maybe I'd see some beautiful, rare birds on the island. I could take some pictures and show them to my mother: she shared my interest in ornithology, and had partially inspired me to make it my full-time job.
"Fuck it, I'm gonna light up," Callum mumbled, "I won't last four hours, or whatever it is."
"Go for it," I sighed, "but don't blame me if you get lung cancer."
Instead of snapping at me like he usually would, Callum just gave me an odd look. He shrugged. "Fine then. I won't, if you don't want me to." He shoved the packet of cigarettes back into his pocket.
"Since when did you let me tell you what to do?" I challenged him.
His warm grey eyes had turned steely cold. "You didn't tell me to do anything. I was merely being considerate." I had to stop myself from sneering: he could be so pretentious. He would say anything to protect his own ego. "Sure you were." I replied acidly, even though the look in his eyes told me I should most definitely stop in my tracks. But it was something about winding him up that gave me thrills.
"This is to do with your mother, isn't it?" he asserted flatly.
Yes. "Why would it be?"
"The cancer thing."
"My mother didn't give herself cancer," I hissed angrily, "there's the difference. You can do what you want. But you do it to yourself. I'm only warning you."
He was silent. Maybe I had gotten to him; or maybe he was more furious than I could imagine. "I'm going inside," I said quickly, "it's cold out here."
"Good," said Callum, not trying to stop me, instead a smug smile appearing on his lips, "maybe I can smoke in peace now."
As I gave him one last look of disgust, I reminded myself with horror that this was the man I would be spending the rest of my life with.
"Don't be silly, love," my mother answered my frenetic worrying as patiently as ever, "there's no point. You go and have a lovely time. I'm so happy for you, Mona-"
"I don't have to go, honestly. We can get married another time."
My mother sighed softly on the other end of the phone. "You're not having second thoughts, are you, darling?"
I gulped. She knew me too well, more than I'd admit. "No. Of course not, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about." I ran a hand through my hair. It was too late now. We were already at the near-empty port in Aberdeen waiting to board: Callum was checking in a few metres in front of me, and seemed to be engaged in a casual conversation to the drippy girl behind the desk. It was a freezing, early morning and I was tired and anxious about my mother, and Callum had been no help, grumbling about traffic all throughout our drive up until I turned up the radio to drown him out. I glared at him from a distance and pulled up my zip, burying my face in my massive red scarf. "All right," Mum said after a long pause, relenting, "if you say so. I love you, Mona."
"I love you too, Mum."
"I don't know if I'll be here when you get back." she said sadly, and instantly choked up. Through the tears blurring my vision combined with the harsh whipping of the wind, I could only faintly make out Callum waving at me impatiently. It was time to board. "Don't say that, Mum," I said, my voice sounding strangled, "please."
She laughed softly. "I'm sorry, Mona. I'm not getting any better, that's all. Goodbye now."
"Bye, Mum." I whispered, then squinted at my phone screen. She had hung up; she had always been down-to-earth, levelheaded, never melodramatic. She saw everything in black-and-white, exactly how it was. It was how she had always lived. I wasn't surprised.
"Mona! Come on," yelled Callum, already wheeling our two suitcases onto the pier, and I reluctantly pulled up my hood and hurried to catch up with him. "Do you want us to miss the fucking boat?" he huffed from a few strides ahead of me.
"That might have been the last time I ever speak to my mother." I said quietly, more to myself than to him. The realisation hit me like a train.
My words were washed away by the wind. He didn't hear.
"What are you talking about now?" he said obnoxiously. "You gotta speak up. I can never understand what you're saying." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I sniffed, then hurried to swipe them away. We arrived at the boat and found a seat near the edge. The sight of the sea was instantly calming to me, and I managed to pull myself together a little, inhaling the fresh air as the engine hummed and the boat set off. Callum wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into him, and I greedily soaked in his warmth. "Sorry," he said, "I'm just a little stressed today. I want everything to be perfect."
"I know." I murmured when he stroked my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
Callum reached into his pocket and fumbled around. I rolled my eyes. "Do you think I can light up? There's barely anyone here, and we're out in the open." I glanced around; the boat was almost bare, with only a small group of people sitting on the other side of the deck. They were elderly, perhaps birdwatchers: I smiled a little. Maybe I'd see some beautiful, rare birds on the island. I could take some pictures and show them to my mother: she shared my interest in ornithology, and had partially inspired me to make it my full-time job.
"Fuck it, I'm gonna light up," Callum mumbled, "I won't last four hours, or whatever it is."
"Go for it," I sighed, "but don't blame me if you get lung cancer."
Instead of snapping at me like he usually would, Callum just gave me an odd look. He shrugged. "Fine then. I won't, if you don't want me to." He shoved the packet of cigarettes back into his pocket.
"Since when did you let me tell you what to do?" I challenged him.
His warm grey eyes had turned steely cold. "You didn't tell me to do anything. I was merely being considerate." I had to stop myself from sneering: he could be so pretentious. He would say anything to protect his own ego. "Sure you were." I replied acidly, even though the look in his eyes told me I should most definitely stop in my tracks. But it was something about winding him up that gave me thrills.
"This is to do with your mother, isn't it?" he asserted flatly.
Yes. "Why would it be?"
"The cancer thing."
"My mother didn't give herself cancer," I hissed angrily, "there's the difference. You can do what you want. But you do it to yourself. I'm only warning you."
He was silent. Maybe I had gotten to him; or maybe he was more furious than I could imagine. "I'm going inside," I said quickly, "it's cold out here."
"Good," said Callum, not trying to stop me, instead a smug smile appearing on his lips, "maybe I can smoke in peace now."
As I gave him one last look of disgust, I reminded myself with horror that this was the man I would be spending the rest of my life with.