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Adam

Sunlight streams in through the curtains when I open my eyes.

My first thoughts are about Sophie. Mum didn’t mind her staying over.

.. she’s more relaxed about a lot of things, and Wren didn’t bat an eyelid when they bumped into each other in the bathroom.

In bed afterwards, Sophie told me how Wren had solemnly asked if she wanted to borrow her toothbrush.

We giggled in the dark before making love for the third time.

Smiling, I turn over to reach for Sophie, but her side of the bed is empty and cool.

I stare at the email strapline: it gives away no clues.

This is all I’ve been aiming for since I left Stanford: my potential return. But instead of being excited, a sick, heavy feeling grows in my stomach and a familiar tightness returns to my chest. The board’s response feels sudden, despite the fact I’d guessed it would arrive today.

I click on Sophie’s message first, which she sent at 5.33 a.m.

Woke early and couldn’t get back to sleep. Snuck out of your house like old times! You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you. Need to crack on with quilting. Sophie xx

Meet this afternoon? I reply . Or I can ask Mum to babysit if you fancy going out for dinner. I can find somewhere with plastic cutlery and milkshakes!!! Adam xx

Two blue ticks appear, but it takes a couple of minutes before her response pops up.

Sounds tempting! But I have to finish your quilt and sort through Mum’s boxes. She left more than I expected. Need to drop off at the tip and charity shop. Meet later in the week? Sophie xx

I write back: It must be tough looking at your mum’s old things. Please let me help? I can check boxes, be your driver, provide carrot cake and big hugs whenever needed. Mum can take Wren to the beach for a few hours.

She answers immediately: Don’t worry, am fine! Have days out with Wren and your mum. We can catch up soon. Sophie xx

I frown, rubbing my face. She’s used our private language of love, but I can sense she’s pushing me away.

It must be tearing her apart, being reminded of her mum and Lily.

Why won’t she let me in? My gaze returns to the email from Stanford.

Did she hear the ping and see the strapline flash up on my phone at 3.

15 a.m.? She could be distancing herself because she’s worried about the board’s decision, and mine.

She avoided mentioning the meeting yesterday.

Ditto Mum. I take a deep breath and open the message.

Dear Adam

Many congratulations on your success!

Firstly, completing your dissertation is a huge achievement. It will now be reviewed in detail by faculty members ahead of your oral exam (date to be arranged).

Secondly, the board has approved our project and we have funding for a two-year research position. Ideally, we’d like you back here in the department as soon as possible to take up this post, visa applications, PhD awarding and university regulations permitting.

Please confirm you wish to proceed and we will file the appropriate paperwork from this end.

Yours sincerely

Dr Hunt

My heart pounds uncomfortably fast and my vision blurs around the edges, making the furniture appear to shift. I close my eyes and hang on to the duvet, trying to control my breathing.

This is what I’ve wanted for so long. Why does it feel like I’m losing, not winning? Is this the best thing for Wren and Mum? Sophie? Me?

Aagh. What should I do?

If Sophie were here, I’d hold her until my room, the world , stops spinning. But I need to stop expecting her to save me. I tap out a quick holding email:

Dear Dr Hunt

This is great news and very exciting! Obviously, a two-year position is a lot to consider when I have a young daughter. I’ll need to discuss this with her and other family members. Please can I have a week to think about it? I’ll email my decision by Tuesday, April 15.

Best wishes

Adam

My breathing calms and my vision clears after pressing ‘send’.

I’ve bought myself more time and a chance to think.

I pull on my running gear and tiptoe downstairs before Mum and Wren wake up.

Bella and Max sniff around my ankles but don’t bark as I open the back door.

Stepping outside, I inhale the crisp sea air.

Gulls caw loudly from nearby roofs as I jog down the road.

The knots in my chest and stomach loosen as my pace increases, and the burn in my calf muscles feels satisfying.

After thirty minutes debating the pros and cons of returning to Stanford, I stop, panting, at the entrance to the churchyard.

Usually, I avoid coming here when I’m back home; I’m uncomfortable around the dead.

Today, the sun casts the tombstones in a warm golden light and the air smells of freshly mown grass and flowers. Birds trill in the trees as I make my way up the snaking path to Dad’s grave. As usual, guilt surges over me when I spot his black marble memorial. It’s engraved with the words:

Nicholas Bailey

Loving husband and father

3 January 1947 to 15 April 2021

Mum must have paid a visit in the last few days; the pink tulips are fresh and the green glass chips are neatly raked beneath the tombstone.

‘Hey Dad,’ I say quietly. ‘It’s been a while.

.. I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.

I’ve been saying sorry a lot recently..

. To Wren, Mum and Sophie. And now to you.

But here’s the thing... I felt guilty about letting you down and lost sight of who I am.

Being back here with Sophie has helped me find myself.

That’s why I’m not going to apologise for dropping out of Stanford.

This is the best decision for me and Wren.

It’s made me realise how anxious I’ve been for years, trying to fulfil your dreams.’ I lick my dry lips.

‘Leaving has made me see I can be a good teacher. It’s hard, and some days I want to give up.

.. but I enjoy it. It’s more fulfilling than I ever expected.

.. It feels like I can make a difference now, rather than holding out for someone else’s idea of success. ’

I rub my watery eyes with the back of my hand.

‘I wish you could meet Wren and discover how wonderful she is! And I’m sure Sophie would eventually win you over.

.. the way she has with Mum. If you could see us all together, you’d know how happy we are.

Now I’m a dad, it’s made me realise that all I want for Wren is her happiness, and good health.

I won’t demand that she follows the career I pick for her.

.. You won’t like what I’m going to say, Dad, what I’m going to do , but this is my life, not yours.

’ I raise my chin. ‘I broke my promise to you, but you should never have asked me to make it in the first place... All I ever wanted to hear was that you loved me. That would have been enough.’

I kiss my fingers and touch his headstone.

‘I will always love you , but Mum and Sophie were right... it’s time for me to make the most of living.’