Bliss

twenty nine

If there was ever a time to escape, it would be now. It's not that I don't love my family, but other than Dad, who's a pro at minding his own damn business, the rest of them are far too involved in my life. Which would be fine if I needed, or, you know, wanted their involvement. However, I don't need nor want it. If anything, I need/want them to leave me the hell alone. Unfortunately, the more I insist, the more embroiled they become.

If you need proof of their unnecessary concern, Paula's presence is more than enough. She arrives at nine on the dot with a box of pastries, a blinding smile and an apology. The pastries I appreciate, but the smile and apology can go to hell for all I care. Unfortunately, they stick around, following me through the house and into the kitchen.

"You were right," she says as I place the cardboard box on the kitchen counter and turn on the kettle. "I wasn't supporting you."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not." She snatches a mug from my hand and pushes me towards the stools that crowd the island. I sit down, knowing I can only deal with one area of contention at a time, and bury my face in my hands.

"Fine," I say, "it's not."

"I just want you to know that I support you no matter what."

"I know, Paula."

"And, I want you to know that you can always come to me," she continues, utterly oblivious to my acceptance of her unneeded apology.

"I know."

"Don't be scared to tell me anything, even if you don't think I want to hear it."

"Well." I unearth my face from my hands and turn to her. "In that case, you won't mind me asking you to stop."

"Stop?"

"The apology, the mothering, the nurturing. I'm fine, I mean it." I pause, taking in her frown. "Not fine," I say, swallowing a sigh, "but better. Working on it, even."

"Really?"

"Yes. In fact, I planned on working on it in the summer house."

Her face falls further. Honestly, it's positively sagging.

"But," I say, grabbing the pastries in the process. "I guess I wouldn't mind some company."

"As in me? Because I totally don't mind finding Mum. We need to start on Henry's birthday plans anyway and—"

"As in you."

"Okay." A bright smile finds its way onto her face. "I'll make the coffee and meet you out there."

"You do that."

I'm fiddling with the speaker, a crusty croissant dangling between my lips when Paula knocks. I open the door, taking one of the steaming mugs from her hand, and hold it open with my heel.

"You should really fix that," Paula says, nodding to the door as she nabs a danish and perches on the edge of the sofa. "It's not safe, the whole, one-way opening situation."

"What one-way opening situation?"

"You know, how you can't open it from the outside if the keys are on the inside."

"You can open it from the outside, Paula. It would be pretty stupid if you couldn't."

"So why does everyone knock?"

"Privacy."

She glances at the door, then me and back again. "You're telling me I've been knocking to give you privacy?"