Maame(24)

Still, I’m happier with the idea of Dawoud taking care of Dad because I’ve had doubts about Mum’s reliability. Sometimes I’d come home from “work” when it was her night to feed him, and she’d get home later than his 6:30 P.M. dinnertime. But Dawoud is always early and likes to sit and talk to (or, rather, at) Dad. I don’t know where Mum goes; she says she’s visiting various aunties but none of the names sound familiar. “You have a lot of aunties,” Mum said. “I don’t expect you to remember each one.”

When Dad’s eaten and taken his medication for the night, I reheat my food and join him in front of the TV.

“My last day at home,” I say quietly, but Dad’s already falling asleep.





Chapter Ten


I don’t have much to pack because I wear different variations of the same clothes every week.

It’s strange to see the sink without my toothbrush or the banister without my towel, or to see my life in only two suitcases.

Mum’s still asleep when I drag them to the door. I go into the living room and kiss Dad on the forehead. I told him again last night that I was moving out today, but maybe it won’t register until he doesn’t see me tomorrow morning.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

He smiles and tries to nod, but it’s early and his medication needs a little longer.

The Uber is here and my heart starts to pound. Are you doing the right thing? Should you really be leaving home?

It’s fine. Remember, Dawoud’s upped his hours.

Mum comes down in her dressing gown to kiss and hug me at the door. We close our eyes, and she prays that I’ll be safe in the new house; she’ll be coming round next week to sprinkle holy water into its corners. I’ll have to time her visit for when both Cam and Jo are out.

Her phone vibrates. “Be safe, my dear,” she says before taking the call upstairs with the bedroom door closed.

I look up at the stairs, then turn away, closing the front door behind me.



* * *



I’ve been added to the house group chat, where Jo told me she left my key under the mat. I’m here alone until my interview at OTP this afternoon, but I have two messages waiting for me as soon as I’m connected to the Wi-Fi.

Jo

We want to go out for dinner tonight to celebrate you moving in! xxx



Cam

So don’t cook anything



Maddie

Sounds good!



Before unpacking, I venture around the flat. The utensil drawer gets stuck if pulled out too far. There are blank spaces in the food cupboards and an empty shelf in the fridge. I put the leftovers Mum packed into containers for me in there and the bright orange and red stands out among the yellow cheese, white bread, and pale pink wine.

I sit in the living room and look around, but nothing has changed since my first visit. I unlock the back door and step out into the garden. The gate opens up to the other side of the residential square. The garden furniture extends to a picnic table, three mismatched chairs and a mini barbecue in the corner. There’s a small tree beside it and weeds stick out from cracks in the ground. Our neighbors on the left have a garden obscured by a wall of leaves, but if I stand on my tiptoes, I can just glimpse the garden on our right—it looks like a plant haven, bird feeder included.

I go back inside and upstairs to pee; the toilet lid doesn’t sit exactly on the base, so I have to be careful. When I reach for toilet tissue, I notice a basket filled with spare rolls. We’ll split this cost, I assume. I won’t have to stand in the supermarket’s queue every week wondering if we have enough left.

Jo’s left her bedroom door wide open, and I poke my head around the corner. Her room is marginally bigger than mine; it faces the garden and comes with two different desks and a lava lamp I’m tempted to switch on, but don’t (what if it won’t turn off again?!). A tower of books sits on the floor beside her bed and in the corner is a clothing rack of colorful dresses.

I think of my own meager wardrobe. What if we go out and Jo comes out of her room in one of these dresses and I leave mine in jeans and a faded black jumper?

I online-shop for the rest of the morning, picking things I’d never wear and spending money I usually wouldn’t because I can reinvent myself here. Jo and Cam don’t know me and I can be whoever I want to be.

So … who do I want to be?

Someone cooler, more confident. Sophisticated, even? Effortless and kind of like, I don’t go to things, they come to me, you know?

I land on a page of pantsuits; surely nothing screams confidence more than a woman in a sunshine-yellow suit. But where would I wear a bright suit to?

Don’t overthink it, Maddie—manifest it.

If you have the suit in your wardrobe, an opportunity to wear it will present itself. I’m certain that’s how manifestation works.

Google: Where do you wear a yellow suit to?

To work

On a date

To a wedding

The theater

Around the house, like the bad, boss bitch that you are

Right. Add to basket then.

Okay, dresses. I already own a few, all loose and below the knee, but I remember what Shu once said when I arrived to her birthday party in a polo neck and jeans: “Can you whore it up a bit, Mads?” I think back to what Shu and her girlfriends were wearing that night and add some tight dresses and short skirts to my basket. It’s like they say, one man’s whore is another woman’s inspiration. Before I check out, I balk at the three-figure total but key in my card details anyway.