Dumped, Actually(79)

‘Yes.’ I nod my head. ‘You’ve never argued. I’ve never seen you raise your voices to each other once. That’s why it was such a shock to see you doing it now.’

‘Oh, Oliver. Your father and I snap at each other all the time,’ Mum says.

Dad nods. ‘Oh yes. We’ve had some right barnstormers.’

‘But I’ve never seen you . . . never heard you . . .’

‘Of course you haven’t, sweetheart,’ Mum tells me, hand squeezing mine. ‘We’ve always tried to keep it away from you. You’re our son, and we love you. We don’t want you to see us arguing.’

I blink three times in quick succession, staring at her. ‘You argue all of the time?’

I am utterly incredulous.

‘Of course we do!’ Dad exclaims. ‘Every couple does, Oliver. It’s just the way of things.’

I shake my head again, adamant. ‘No. You’re not like other couples. You’re . . . You’re perfect.’

Dad actually lets out a loud bray of laughter, while Mum puts a hand over her mouth.

‘There’s no such thing as perfect, my boy!’ Dad says. ‘And just as well. Perfect sounds bloody boring to me!’

‘Leonard,’ Mum chides, before leaning forward in her chair towards me. ‘Is that what you’ve always believed, Ollie? That me and your dad have some sort of perfect marriage . . . with no problems?’

‘Yes! Absolutely! And I realised yesterday that I keep screwing things up with the women in my life because I’ve been trying to emulate you. Trying to emulate your relationship. Because . . . Because it’s perfect.’

Mum puts her hand over mine. ‘Sweetheart, nothing is perfect. No relationship is perfect. There’s just no such thing.’

No such thing.

No. Such. Thing.

Oh God.

The universe makes another one of those fundamental shifts as I let this sink in. It’s going to have to stop making them soon, otherwise I’m going to fall off the bastard.

I’ve been chasing an impossibility.

I’ve been hankering after a falsehood.

I’ve been wasting my time on a thing that can never be.

I heave the longest, loudest and deepest sigh I have ever let out of my body, and slump in the chair. It feels like someone has let the air out of me.

Some vast and invisible weight is being lifted from my shoulders as I sit there staring at my mother’s concerned face.

Everything slots into place in my mind – for the first time in my life.

I have idealised the notion of romance, because I idealised the way I saw my parents.

I have lived with this dream of the perfect relationship that was so strong, it forced me into making terrible decisions . . . and into losing the girl of my dreams.

I have been nothing short of a bloody fool.

‘Oh dear. We’re so sorry, son,’ Dad says, looking pretty damn miserable himself now. ‘We always tried to protect you from any problems we might have had . . . but maybe we went a little too far with it.’

Mum nods in agreement.

Both of them look guilty.

That’s horrifying.

‘No! No!’ I say, sitting up straight again. ‘You mustn’t blame yourselves at all! You gave me everything I needed when I was a child. You loved me, cared for me, and always did the right thing by me. None of this is your fault. It’s all down to me. Because . . . Because I didn’t want to see. You understand? Because . . . I didn’t . . . I didn’t want to grow up.’

Oh boy.

There it is.

There’s the answer.

I have lived my entire adult life with a child’s idea of what romance is, and what it should be. I have walked around with this idealistic vision in my head – born of what I thought my parents’ relationship was.

Watching all of those bloody romantic comedies probably didn’t help, either. They would have just reinforced the fantasy I had in my head. Maybe I should have watched more action movies, after all.

I have simply not allowed myself to grow up. To accept that no relationship is perfect. That they all have their own problems.

And it took an obviously inconsequential argument about a pergola to realise that.

I say all of this to my parents.

They sit in silence digesting everything, before Dad lets out an explosive breath. ‘Blimey. I never realised that’s how you felt.’

‘Nor did I,’ Mum agrees. ‘We made things very difficult for you.’

I shake my head again. ‘No, Mum. I made things very difficult for myself.’ I square my shoulders a little. ‘And that’s the truth. I’ve been acting like a child for too long when it comes to the women in my life. When it comes to my relationships. And that needs to change. If I’m ever going to find the right woman, I have to grow up. I have to see being in love for what it really is.’

‘And what is that?’ Mum asks, curiosity in her voice now.

I think for a moment. ‘Imperfect. Frustrating. Difficult.’ Sam’s face flashes through my mind, followed by Gretchen’s, Yukio’s and Lisa’s. ‘And wonderful,’ I say with an exhausted smile.

Mum also smiles, and once again squeezes my hand. ‘I’m very proud of you, son,’ she says softly.

I feel my dad’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Me too, my boy.’