Any other people I know in this country are just acquaintances, Facebook friends. So, it’s a toss-up between going back to my papa’s villa, or making the effort to go stateside to stay with my mom, and the latter is too much of a big deal. I’m in no great hurry, though. My flight doesn’t leave until tonight, so I give the radio a try. Good, it works. I pull away from the hostel and start driving through the busy streets of Liverpool’s city centre.
Nick never replied to my WhatsApp. He still hasn’t read the message or been online, and I last checked five minutes ago. The harsh pain in my chest can only be released through tears, so fuck it, I let them come.
The radio crackles, this old banger of a car not equipped with much of a sound system. Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’ has just started, and oh, I love this song. The intense string section sets me off even more. I want to listen to it happy, exactly how I imagined I’d be today. I’ve spent the last six months living for today, never expecting to wake up in a backpacker’s hostel all alone. I know I’m torturing myself with these thoughts, but I can’t help it.
I’m not even paying attention to the satnav. I need to focus.
What was that?
Should I have turned?
Ah, great. Yeah, I should’ve turned off that complicated excuse for a roundabout. Except, hold on. Why can’t I u-turn? Why? I’ll have to take the next turning and come back around. The satnav is ‘recalculating’. But, whoa, what’s going on? There is no turning. All that lies before me is a one-way trip into a huge tunnel.
‘What the actual …?!’ I cry.
There’s no going back. The tunnel swallows me whole and all I can do is put my foot down to keep up with the other drivers going forty miles per hour, which feels pretty fast in this crappy car. Elbow is replaced with awful fuzz.
‘How long does this thing go on for?’ I shout, banging the wheel.
It’s not as if I can stop, get out, ask anyone.
Opening my mouth, I take a huge breath and hold it. Disappear.
I was six years old, sitting in the back seat of a yellow taxi. Sandwiched between my parents yelling at one another, passing blame like a game of ping pong. I made an excellent net.
We were edging into Manhattan, moving slowly, immersed in a long tunnel.
‘Why can’t I go back to work?’ my mom cried. ‘How is this fair?’
‘You’ve no idea how good you’ve got it,’ my papa told her.
‘Your opinion, Samir. Not mine.’
‘My opinion matters most.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s practical.’
I decided to hold my breath. My theory was that if I didn’t breathe, then I wouldn’t be alive, which meant I wouldn’t be there. I’d be invisible. And my parents could say what the hell they liked to each other and I’d never know, never be a part of it. I wouldn’t be in their way, the root of all their problems.
‘You’re a fucking snail, Samir.’
‘Don’t use that sort of language. Not in front of your daughter.’
‘She’s your daughter, too.’
‘And why am I a – what do you call it – snail? A snail? What ridiculous metaphor are you going to hit me with now? Seriously, April.’
‘Ridiculous?’
‘That imagination of yours is dangerous. It stops you from getting on with your duty.’
‘My duty? As what? A wife? A mother?’
‘Yes, April. My God, yes. Exactly that. This conversation is futile.’
My face was starting to pulsate. Would they notice if I went pop?
‘You’re a snail, and I’m the trail. Think about it, Samir. It’s not ridiculous. It’s accurate.’
My papa laughed and the tunnel came to a bright, sharp end. He nudged me, playfully, and it forced me to release, take a fresh breath, come back to life. Although I didn’t like how I felt. I was hot, sweaty and I wanted to cry, but my papa was laughing and I didn’t want him to stop. Laughter was so much nicer than shouting. My mom bent forwards and reached out her hand, touching the taxi driver’s shoulder gently.
‘Sorry you had to hear that,’ she said to him.
‘No problem,’ the taxi driver said.
‘A snail!’ my papa gasped. ‘Whatever next?’
And although my mom wasn’t laughing with him, I do remember letting myself smile. I imagined my papa as this big grumpy snail, my mom a glittering trail dancing behind it. Maybe I was hiding inside the shell. I didn’t know what ‘ridiculous