Mother’s Day was designed for staying in bed. It was a Sunday after all, and if she’d done enough drinking the night before, chances were it would be lunchtime before she even surfaced. Add in a big-enough hangover and you could guarantee that darkness would have fallen before she was recovered sufficiently- swaddled on the sofa in front of Friends repeats on some miscellaneous satellite channel, nursing a vat of sweetened builder’s tea and holding her head as still as possible- to even think about it. The problem was that she never quite achieved the Zen-like state of making it to midnight without once thinking of the day, of it’s significance. Of her. Unsurprising therefore that Julia erupted, Vesuvius-like, at around 5pm that particular Mother’s Day into the arms of an unsuspecting and utterly confused sort-of-boyfriend.
Given that he was only commenting on some article or other in the Sunday Times, you could forgive him for not grasping the severity of the situation and reacting accordingly, so it was a full ten minutes before Matt had the sense to get the box of tissues. He did a very sensible thing, given that he was still adjusting to their particular situation, and put his arms around her. And they sat together, cocooned in the duvet, whilst the room grew dark and the street lights threw their other-wordly glow across the dining room table, as she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Exhausted by the tears, by her grief, by the Herculean efforts she had employed to stay in control of her emotions about this particular subject on this particular day in front of this particular person, she fell asleep, half-propped up on the sofa, duvet tangled around her round her like a snake trying to squeeze the last vestiges of her grief from her.
When she awoke to the smells of cooking, Julia wandered over to Matt who, at a loss for what to do, had kept himself busy by cooking supper, and poured herself a glass of wine from the open bottle. She took a large swig and began to talk. Whilst he cooked, she told him about Mother’s Day and why it was so hard for her to do anything other than just survive it. He put a steaming bowl of Thai chicken in front of her, took her hand as he sat down on the bar stool that was next to hers and asked her to marry him.
So wonderfully written, and what a lovely ending 🙂
I’m so pleased you enjoyed reading @mrsteepot
Awesome. I hope you’re going to write the rest of this and not keep us hanging! x
It’s a work in progress Desk Monkey 🙂
I realy enjoyed this Kelly, I hope there’s more where this came from? x
I’m working on it Hannah!
Wow!
Thanks @keynko
Fantastic start – I can’t wait to read the next part! Get writing girl!
Oh wow, Kelly, I have tears in my eyes. What an amazing piece of writing. Is it part of something bigger? If so, I want to read more. If not, it stands alone really well. Thank you so much for using one of the Write On writing prompts. I am thrilled that you’ve joined in 🙂 x
Thank you for prompting @sandy. It is part of something much bigger but your prompt made me focus on something small in the story.
Oh no! What happened to her mum? Now I want to know! And what a supportive boyfriend – loved the hook at the end. Great stuff. XXX
Thank you. To be honest I’m not entirely sure what happened to her mum yet. You’ll know when I do!
Oooh Kelly, you have a really stylish voice, can’t wait to read more 🙂
I really appreciate your comments @Penny. You’re one of the writers I aspire to be!
Poor Julia – lovely writing
Thanks so much @Carie
Beautiful xxx
Supportive as ever @Marianne. And thank you x