A car ride into uncharted waters

I woke up on Saturday morning to the sound of rain ricocheting off the Armstrong entertainment area. Mum was in her trekking-in-Nepal gear attacking the veggie patch again. She came in dripping and spent half an hour in the shower. She emerged from her room and began to walk around the house mumbling to herself. There was definitely something up. I thought a morning with her plants was meant to make her feel better.

My mum radar said to keep right away, as far away as possible, which I did in my bedroom with my guitar. But considering any minute now she would be at my door telling me it was time to go and be king of the geeks, I thought for once I’d be prepared. If only to give her absolutely no opportunity to sit on my bed and have one of her talks.

Will, it’s nine-thirty, haven’t you got to be at school by ten?

She stood in my doorway, looking shocked and even a little disappointed.

You’re ready?

What was going on with the woman? One minute I get the irresponsible, not meeting my commitments stuff and the next she looks like she’s going to cry because I am actually ready on time.

Yeah, I’m ready. I’m just about to go and get the bike.

Oh for goodness’ sake, Will, you can’t ride in this weather. I’ll drive you.

The radar system was ringing out its alarm. Car. Confined space with no way of escape.

No, Mum, I’ll be right.

Will, stop procrastinating. You’ll never be able to ride to school with your guitar in this weather.

I have before.

Oh, stop carrying on and get in the car.

But I wasn’t the one carrying on. For one of the only times in her life Mum started to jabber. She likes to talk but she never jabbers. In fact she can’t stand people who jabber.

The rain will be good for the veggie patch. It’s coming along well, don’t you think? Have you seen the little shoots of lettuce coming up? Another couple of months and we’ll be having fresh veggies every night. I was thinking that we might drop some over to the Rohannas—they’ve been so kind lately …

I switched off and began to think about the fact that I was going to be stuck in the St. Andrew’s College hall all day. I couldn’t be bothered going, I couldn’t be bothered playing and I certainly couldn’t be bothered communicating with a Year 7 reject no matter how much he needed the attention. I just wanted to hang out at home. It was chucking down with rain, freezing cold, and all I wanted was a date with my bed, TV and guitar.

I suddenly noticed the jabbering had stopped. We’d pulled up at the lights and Mum was staring dead at me saying nothing.

OK, this was too weird. I eyed her nervously.

What’s going on, Mum?

I’m allowed to look at you, aren’t I? I am your mother.

She drove on in silence. That was about enough questions from me. Everything in my body told me to shut the hell up. The familiar wash cycle started in my gut.

Well, if you must know, I woke up thinking about your father. And when I was looking at you I was thinking of how much you remind me of him.

Silence.

But I didn’t want to say it because I knew you would react exactly like you are now.

The water continued to slosh around in my gut.

Then I thought about what we would have done on a rainy Saturday if he were still here. That made me think we hadn’t spent any time together lately.

Now that was where she was definitely lost. I had spent more time at home this year than I had since I’d reached puberty.

I know what you’re going to say, Will, but that’s different. You’re home, but you aren’t really there.

Mum was moving into uncharted waters and she knew it. She also knew that if she kept going I’d bail. I turned away from her and looked out the window. She pulled over to the side of the road. Her hand was on my shoulder and mine was on the door handle.

Will, I’m sorry. This is hard for me too, OK?

I released the handle and turned to look at her.

I just wanted to … There were tears in her eyes, hanging on the lids like big fat water bombs.

Well, I just wanted to make a connection, that’s all.

The bombs never dropped. They retreated with the act of speaking.

It’s all right, Mum. It’s no big deal.

We drove to school in silence. The tension was gone, replaced by a weary sadness.

Will?

It’s sweet, Mum, I said, grabbing my guitar. Thanks for the lift.

And then I did something I hadn’t done since I was eleven. I reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. It was worth it. I hadn’t seen the smile she gave me as she drove away for ages.

Mum had probably been sitting on that all week. Now that she’d had a little chat with me she’d be fine. That was what she was like: she had her say and then she was happy. Me, on the other hand, I was left feeling like crap. That was the problem in our house: she loved talking about Dad and I hated it.

Hey! Hey, Will, it’s me. Zach.

That was all I needed.

Hey, Freak, how’s it going?

We walked into the hall together, the Freak giving his running commentary. This time I didn’t mind so much; the more he spoke the more the car ride and the conversation disappeared. And as he kept talking the washing machine continued to work through its cycle until finally it switched to off.