A Thousand Tiny Wishes // Ed Sheeran

Chapter Twelve - Looking Up

Ed

A lot can happen in two weeks' time.  For one, I've had a shower every morning and sometimes each night.  I've been fed and earned myself enough money to buy some clothes that were desperately needed.

After a few days I'd finally gotten up the courage to pick up the phone and ring my mother.  Deep down I knew the way I'd left home was unfair to her and she deserved far better.  She answered on the second ring and though I felt anxious, the nerves and fear faded the second I heard her voice.

"Hi mum," I said, keeping my voice calm and free of emotion.

"Ed?" She asked, her tone filled with concern and shock, "Baby is that you?"

The second I said yes she broke down.  My chin quivered and I fought back the stinging in my eyes, trying hard to mask the ache in my chest. 

Through rushed words she asked if I was alright and without hesitation I told her I was.  In that moment I wished I could reach through the phone and wrap my arms around her. 

"I've been so worried.  I know you're smart and I know you're careful, but my God Edward you scared me."

I could practically see her wiping her eyes as she sniffled and sighed, "Lord I miss you."

It was too hard to hold back the feelings trying to push their way through and I let a warm tear fall down my cheek.

We chatted for a bit and I told her of my adventures, careful to keep out a few details.  I'd mentioned Stuart and his pub and she seemed happy for me, or at least she pretended to be.

Just after a pause of conversation she sighed and I could feel the next topic before she even spoke.

"Your father has been worried about you," she said. 

I kept quiet to process what she'd said and though I didn't feel any truth in her words, I knew she was only trying to make me feel better, or maybe worse. 

"He's cut down on the drinking," she continued, "He started a new job a few days ago."

I rubbed my hand roughly over my face, trying not to get agitated with the sensitive subject. 

"Reckon that won't last long," I blurted. 

We both knew it was true, as we'd seen him go through rebound after rebound over and over again.  It became tiring.  And predictable. 

"He's trying, Edward."

After that I told her I had to go and that I loved her, and with a smile in her voice she said it back before we both respectively hung up. 

It felt comforting having spoken with her after it'd been so long, and it made me feel better that she knew I was safe.  I had briefly told her about Stuart and how welcoming and kind he'd been, and at first she was apprehensive about the idea, but came around when I assured her that his only intention was to help.  For a second I imagined them meeting.

Stuart has been the closest thing I have to a friend recently.  The morning after he and his girlfriend invited me to eat dinner at their table I woke up and spotted a yellow sticky note stuck to my black guitar case.  The two of them had gone off to work and after I saw it I peeled myself from the sofa and wandered over to read the short message.

'Hope you don't mind the patchwork -  Stu,' it read in messy writing.

Confused, I opened the case, which I'd only done a few times since I'd left home.   From being dropped to the ground and tossed from the car that cold night, it'd gotten scratched and cracked a bit.  I didn't think about trying to fix it, and I hadn't told Stuart, but he figured it out.  I reached for the neck and pulled it out, examining the patchwork Stuart had warned me of.  He'd put tape along the front side in an attempt to replace a small missing piece of wood and another piece toward the bottom.  I ran my fingers over the white tape, feeling a smile work its way over my mouth.  And just to be sure it still worked, I held it properly and strummed.