Page 27 of Do You Ship It

It’s Christmas before I know it, and all I can think about is how me and Jake should be hanging out watching Elf and feasting on the biscuit casualties left over from his family’s annual attempt to make a gingerbread village. When Ginny uploads a photo of this year’s wonky spectacular, I have to swipe away before I start crying.

Should I reach out to Jake now? ’Tis the season, and all that, and maybe he’s missing me a bit too? Giving him space seemed like the right thing to do, even if it meant letting him get over his crush on me , but I don’t care about that anymore. I just want my friend back. Daphne and I patched things up, couldn’t me and Jake? Then again, there were no broken hearts and betrayals involved there …

In the end, I decide not to.

It’s Christmas, he’s busy, he’s having fun with Ginny home and his older brother Thomas has finally moved to Cardiff so they’ll be playing D she got a real kick out of that story. ‘Don’t tempt me. But you’re both moping around, missing each other, and …’ She lets out a big sigh. ‘I really don’t want to get involved, Cerys, it’s not my place. Jake will come around. He’ll talk to you properly soon, I’m sure of it. Just … give him a bit of time, okay? Maybe after Christmas?’

‘But it’s already been ages . Nearly two months.’

‘I know. I know, but …’ She looks so sad, so conflicted, I wonder what really is going on with Jake. Is he more heartbroken than I realize?

More heartbroken than … I have been?

When I try to ask Anissa about that, though, she refuses to get into it. ‘This is for the two of you to sort out. Now come on – I thought I came over so we could read the new update on that Moonsilver fic. It’s six thousand words about the ballroom scene, Cerys, and I don’t think they even kiss yet …’

Maybe I haven’t known Anissa that long, but the shared love of OWAR has helped us forge a strong bond – and I trust her. Enough, at least, to promise to myself that I’ll carry on giving Jake space until at least the New Year.

My own Christmas is as strange as it is chaotic. Mum and Dad are back to being frosty with each other and every conversation they have is in clipped tones. We have my Aunty Jude’s party on the 23rd with my dad’s side of the family; we spend Christmas morning with Dad’s parents, and the afternoon with my maternal grandma, including a bunch of my younger cousins with their noisy new games and food we’re too full from lunch to really eat. Then it’s a drive up to Bangor on Boxing Day to see my granddad and step-nan, with only one bust-up over the route Mum takes. I put on the third OWAR audiobook and pretend to sleep for most of the journey.

See? I want to tell them. I knew this would happen . The whole ‘happy families’ act was never going to last.

At least for New Year’s Eve, Chloe’s invited us all over. It’ll be a welcome escape from all the family time I’ve been subjected to.

Like tonight, with rain lashing against the windows, and all three of us sat around the kitchen table, the mood eerily calm. Pleasant, almost. Mum and Dad are holding an actual conversation, and there are a few smiles and laughs between them that make me wary.

After they’ve hashed over all the usual chatter – my New Year’s plans with the girls, how work and college have been, if I’ve had any more thoughts about uni yet ahead of next year’s applications – Mum broaches the one subject I was hoping they’d been too preoccupied to notice.

‘You haven’t mentioned Jake very much lately. What’s going on there?’

I freeze. ‘Um …’

‘Have you two had a falling out?’ Dad asks – and, brilliant , now they’re both doing the kind, concerned parent act, teaming up again like they did when Anissa came over.

‘Not really. Just … um … You know.’ I shrug. ‘We’ve both been busy.’

It’s a pathetic excuse, and I’m sure they both hear the lie in my voice based on the glance they exchange.

‘It’s such a shame,’ Mum sighs. ‘He was always such a lovely boy, and a good friend.’

‘He’s not dead , Mum.’

They both laugh. She waves her fork at me. ‘I know that, silly. I only meant it’s a shame you two haven’t managed to stay close.’

‘We –’

We would’ve, if not for Max. If not for the kiss.

If not for The Plan, and my determination to see it through ruining everything.

‘We’re fine,’ I end up saying. ‘Just, you know. Christmas. College. Stuff.’

Mercifully, they let it drop, and I’m left to scroll on my phone at the table while the two of them work in tandem to load the dishwasher and pack away leftovers. Dad says something that makes Mum laugh – a tinkly, mirthful sound – and she swats him lightly with the tea towel.

It’s so disgustingly cosy and domestic, the words finally come spilling out of me.

‘You’re not getting back together, are you?’

‘What?’ says Dad, and they both turn, confused, processing what I just said. I clamp my mouth shut, horrified that I even said it at all, hoping maybe I can pass it off as them mishearing or me saying it at something on my phone, but then they exchange a look and Mum sighs, coming back over to the dining table. Dad clips a lid on to the tub of leftovers and joins us.

They both drag out chairs, the noise like nails on chalkboard, and my heart is in my throat.

Fab work, Cerys, they’re sitting down for A Talk. Last time they did this, it was because you got a week’s worth of detentions for bunking off PE with Jake and the others in Year 10. What fresh hell have you unleashed now?

Mum sighs again, folding her hands on the table, but not before I see them shaking. Dad reaches over and places one of his hands over hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

And again, I blurt – ‘You are, aren’t you? You’re getting back together. You’re not going through with the divorce. You’re –’

‘Cerys,’ Dad interrupts. ‘We’re not getting back together.’

In a voice that’s so timid it hardly sounds like Mum at all, she says, ‘We’ve just been trying to make more of an effort for … Well, for you. This hasn’t been easy for us, and we know that we get a bit … carried away, sometimes. That can’t be very easy for you, either. And it’s Christmas.’

‘So?’

‘So we – we just …’

‘What next, you’ll tell me Santa Claus isn’t real?’ I snap, scowling. ‘I’m not a child. I’m not stupid . I’m –’

‘You are a child,’ Dad says. ‘That’s … That’s …’

‘What? The problem?’ Great, amazing, first Jake, now my parents.

Mum cuts him a look filled with a bit more of their old animosity before saying to me, ‘This whole thing has been difficult and drawn out, and there’s still things we’re trying to sort through with the lawyers, but we wanted that to impact you as little as possible. There’s been so much upheaval for you , we were …’

‘Trying to keep the ship steady,’ Dad fills in, with what I’m willing to bet is some metaphor provided by their couples’ counsellor. I give him a deadpan look – as if this ship has ever been steady. He raises an eyebrow, clearly agreeing, but only says, ‘What with me moving out –’

‘And you off to a new college …’ Mum adds.

‘And uni on the horizon …’

‘And … Well, and with things getting a bit serious with … with Jeremy.’

‘With – what?’ I interrupt. ‘Wait. Who’s Jeremy ?’

Mum blushes .

Oh my God. Oh my God , I’m such an idiot! Of course she’s not out with friends that often – of course her book club didn’t suddenly go from once a month to every few days. I was so busy worrying that Dad might be moving back in that I never stopped to consider why Mum was going out .

I can’t believe my mum, the bitter divorcée, has a more successful love life than I do.

‘You have a boyfriend ?’ I blurt, and look at Dad and say, ‘Are you dating someone, too? Are you both –?’

Mum cringes. ‘It’s very early days. He’s divorced as well, and he’s got two kids – a bit younger than you. We’re … taking things very slowly.’

‘Right.’ Right, except – wrong, so wrong. Since when did my mum lead this double life where I potentially have future step-siblings?! She starts trying to reassure me that she’s not moving a whole new family into our house and that’s not what this is about …

I’m stunned, speechless, and the words wash over me.

They’re still getting a divorce. This new civility isn’t them trying to make it work, it’s them … moving on . Or trying to, anyway. The relief is so immense I feel like my chest might cave in, and I think about how I can’t wait to pour all of this into a long, rambly Discord message to Jake. He’ll never believe it, he’ll …

Not answer, because he’s not talking to me.

My face must fall because Mum pauses to say, ‘Cerys? Are you alright? I’m sorry, darling, I know this is a lot. I didn’t want to spring it on you quite like this.’

‘I told you it was too soon,’ Dad mutters, and she glares at him.

‘No, it’s not … it’s not that, it’s …’ I really don’t fancy getting into the whole Jake drama right now; this conversation has been emotionally exhausting enough already. And saying it out loud will make it real. I’m not ready for that.

I think about the Of Wrath and Rune episode I was rewatching earlier. Lady di Silver’s family had allied with the evil usurpers in the palace, even issued a warrant for her safe arrest, and faithful Devon had tried to comfort her now they were on opposing sides – enemies. I think about the earnest look she gave him in response.

‘ We are not on opposing sides, Devon. We are all making our choices for the good of the kingdom, the good of our people, because it is our duty. We are all trying to do the right thing for those that matter most to us. I cannot blame them that their path looks different to mine. ’

The whole duty thing and the fact they’re talking about quests for long-lost magickal beings aside, she had a point.

I take a deep breath, and the smile I give my parents feels more sincere than any of the brush-offs and hasty side-steps I’ve gotten away with for the last few months.

‘I’m not upset. I’m … I’m glad you told me about all this. But don’t feel like you have to do the whole “forced family fun time” thing for me. Seriously. I mean, that’s not exactly been normal for us, even before you were getting the divorce,’ I point out, and they pull faces, abashed. ‘It’s … it’s okay with me if us spending time together looks … different, I guess is what I’m trying to say.’

In fact, I’d welcome it.

They swap another look, both visibly relaxing. Mum gets up to come and give me a cwtch while Dad says, ‘That’s really mature of you, Cerys.’

‘All that therapy you guys have been doing must’ve rubbed off on me,’ I say, smothered in Mum’s embrace, and we all laugh. She drops a kiss on my forehead.

‘I’m sorry we didn’t talk to you about it properly, love. We’ll be more upfront and honest going forward, yes?’

I nod, and as she starts to peel away, I hug her a bit tighter.

‘Actually … Actually,’ I repeat, then haul down a deep breath. ‘In the spirit of being honest , I’ve … Well, I’ve been thinking lately. About uni. About what I want to study. And I think maybe … maybe I’d like to do art, instead of business and media.’

‘You would?’ Dad says, surprised. ‘But I thought you weren’t that interested in it these days?’

Meanwhile, Mum says excitedly, ‘You do? Oh, Cerys, that’s lovely! You’ve always had such a talent!’

I pull back now, staring between them. ‘Wait. You’re … not mad?’

Mum laughs. ‘Why would we be?’

‘Well, because … I mean, Dad always … I thought you both …’

Am I missing something? Did I imagine all those arguments between them about it?

Catching on, Mum sighs, and Dad tells me, ‘Cerys, just because I made decisions about my career, doesn’t mean you’ll be in the same boat. We were young, we had a kid and a mortgage. I had to think about more than just what I wanted to do.’

‘We never meant for you to stop pursuing it, if it’s something you’re passionate about,’ Mum adds. ‘I think it’s safe to say we both assumed you were good at it, but not necessarily bothered about it.’

Dad raises his eyebrows at me. ‘Are you?’

‘Y-yeah. I am. A lot.’

‘Right!’ He stands up, clapping his hands. ‘Where are all those uni prospectuses? We’d better start having a proper look at their art courses.’

Mum gives me a squeeze. ‘Have you got some finished pieces you can show us? I’d love to see them.’

Ohmigod, no . As if I need to get into all the fandom stuff, too … But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing?

I’ve been so worried about keeping the ship steady, like Dad put it. Not making a fuss about my artwork, not wanting to lose Jake, not wanting to be too openly friendly with Anissa in case it cost me the girls, even trying to force Max out to salvage my own friendship with Jake at the cost of his … And where’s that got me?

Where has it got any of us?

A little change might be nice.