Prologue
‘’Are you all set to go, hon?” Paul shouts from the bottom of the stairs as I pack the final bits in my suitcase, ready to leave for him to drive me to the airport. As I zip my suitcase shut a tear escapes, staining my already red cheeks. I haven’t been able to stop crying since realization hit me last night- I’m leaving today.
Wiping away the tears, I pull the suitcase down from my bed and then roll it through the corridor to the top of the stairs. Taking in a deep breath, I lift the twenty-three-kilogram suitcase, and step by step I carry it down, trying not to stumble and fall flat on my face.
“There you are, are you all set?”
Paul comes into view, grabbing the handle when I reach the last few steps. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how he must feel. Right now, he’s acting as happy as can be, but the look on his face says it all. The corners of his lips are unable to reach his eyes when he smiles, and the sadness fills his deep brown eyes when he looks in my direction.
“Yup, all good,” I respond, my body shaking from anxiety.
The nerves are riveting through my veins. I keep replaying the same questions in my head, on repeat like a broken record – was this the right decision to make? Is this now my future? And will I regret this?
Paul places his warm hands on my bare shoulders. He takes in a deep breath before speaking.
“Look, I know this is hard, but England will be an amazing opportunity for you. It’s not every day you get invited to attend a privileged college, and it will be a great time to reconnect with your father.”
My breath hitches as another tear escapes and falls to the ground. Why did my life have to drastically change within a few days? The few days where my mum died, and I received a call from my father who then offered an amazing opportunity for me to attend Darlington Academy. I was stunned when father called, considering the last time I heard from him was on my birthday, and even then, it was rare. But why now? Why does he want to build a relationship after eighteen years of no effort? When he offered for me to move to England and attend Darlington, my emotions were all over the place. I had a serious conversation with Paul, because he has been a father to me since my mum married him. I couldn’t wish for a better father, but he agreed that letting this opportunity slip was stupid and I would regret it in the long run.
Unfortunately, I have no future here in South Africa, and in order to broaden my horizons, England is the best option - I was born in England after all.
Wiping away the tears that fall, I nod in response to Paul, who unclasps his hand from my shoulder and already I feel the warmth deteriorating. He picks up my suitcase and carries it out to the car.
Meanwhile, I walk into the living room, taking it in for the last time. The small room is only able to host two cream leather sofas, both facing the open brick fireplace, and just above it is our fixed forty-inch television. The magnolia painted walls are scattered with golden frames filled with family portraits.
I step in front of one where my mum, Paul and I are sitting in a safari jeep, admiring the view of the animals with no care in the world. My finger involuntarily brushes against the panes of my mum’s face, admiring how beautiful and happy she was – how happy I was.
Taking in a deep breath, I fight the urge to cry again. I can’t spend my last moments here crying as I have been these past few days. I want Paul to remember me with a smile on my face at least.
Walking out of the room, I make my way outside to where Paul is checking up on the car, a routine he has always completed before driving. He checks the oil, the water and the tyres, making sure the vehicle is safe to drive. My heart strings pull knowing this is the last time I will ever witness such a routine. Before, I thought it was a tedious job but now, I am admiring him. Admiring the fact that he has always put safety first, ensuring I am protected in his care.
“Hey, are you ready?” he asks, his voice slightly breaking as he approaches me. The smile on his face does not reach his eyes. Unknown to him, I’m studying his features, taking in the wrinkles around his eyes as he smiles, his light brown shaggy hair with a few scattered greys blowing in the wind. He is always wearing a goddamn checkered shirt. He has them in every single colour.
“I am ready” I say, my voice sounding raspy.
I clear my throat and turn to look at my home for one last time. The little townhouse which has been my home since I can remember, but now it’s time to move on.
The drive to the airport is silent, no words spoken between us, so I turn the radio on to break the sadness. There doesn’t seem to be anything left to be said. Paul looks brave on the outside, but during the evenings he locks himself in his room and I can hear him shed his tears. Some nights I can hear his night terrors, with him shouting out my mum’s name. I never bring this up to him, knowing he won’t be able to confide in me. He leaves his burdens before the threshold of the bedroom, a smile replacing the frown as soon as he exits the enclosed room. He always ensures that I am taken care of, with breakfast on the table for when I wake up.
When we arrive at the airport, Paul drives through to the parking lots, grabbing a ticket from the machine so that he can pay later. He parks the car in a visitors parking bay and shuts the engine off.
“Adelaide, your mum would be so proud of you, I hope you know that…” he whispers without eye contact, and he rushes to climb out of the car before I can say a thing. My hands start to shake, the nerves getting the better of me. It takes a while to compose myself before I climb out of the car, whilst Paul grabs my luggage out of the boot. The fresh air hits me, and I take in a deep breath, appreciating the African atmosphere and heat. This is something I will definitely miss.
Paul escorts me all the way to the check in desk, where I collect my tickets and I notice that father has upgraded me to the first-class experience, which should be a lot more comfortable than economy. Once I have checked in my suitcase and watched it disappear into the baggage hold, I turn around and walk away.
It’s too late now.
Without a word, I crush into Paul’s chest, wrapping my arms around his neck and squeezing him tightly.
I don’t want to let go.
I can’t let go.
Tears appear in the corner of my eyes, staining my cheeks red as they fall onto the blue checkered shirt that Paul wears. His arms wrap around me tightly, giving me a reassuring squeeze before I let go. His scent of tobacco and cloves lingers in the air.
This is a moment I don’t want to forget.
“It’s time, Adelaide,” he whispers with a faint smile.
I nod in response, the words not leaving my lips.
“This is not goodbye Adelaide, you know that. This is your chance to make a life for yourself. Enjoy what’s to come, and you never know, you might prefer it in England. You know you can always come back home if you decide to. I will always be here for you,” he says, looking me dead in the eye, and I know he’s right. I can always come back home if things don’t work out.
Letting go, I brush the stray tears away from my cheeks, a faint smile ghosting my lips as I watch Paul smile down at me. It truly is infectious.
Turning to leave, I walk towards the escalators to make my way through to security. As my feet land on the first step, I turn and look over my shoulder, finally seeing the tears escape from Paul’s eyes and the strings pull around my heart.