Dear,
Child of Mine.
Don't worry, you're not in trouble. I write this for us both, in case I ever forget myself. There are lessons to learn in your journey from child to adult. Lessons that I, as your mother, would never wish to see you struggle through alone like I had. This is an account of the one year, and the one person, among all others, that changed me. In this account, I'll impart the lessons that on reflection, I'd have benefited from learning sooner.
I remember it distinctly; the year 2013. I'd not long turned eighteen when my journey began. The summer had been difficult; I was left financially vulnerable, with no choice but to reject my university offer and take a gap-year. I learnt early on not to rely too heavily on my parents for support. I hope you never feel this way, my darling. My desperation and devastation at the situation were a heady mix, which fueled my determination to bounce back. I found a care assistant job and started working all the hours in the day. I had simple objectives; work full-time, earn enough money for university, and travel. Although these objectives were important, this letter's focus is on the unexpected events in life.
On the outskirts of our village, platformed on the corner of a busy junction, a small garage. A quaint little place, it opposed a graveyard on one side and a large common on the other. Quarrelling for the space next door was a reasonably sized two-story house with a red door, my younger self assumed it to be where all the mechanics lived. It wasn't until secondary school when I befriended Khloe, who lived there, that I discovered otherwise. Khloe didn't stay on to sixth form like I did, so it was a pleasant surprise to run into her two years later as I got my first car checked over. Our catch-up was brief, she was more interested in flirting with the nearby black-clad mechanic bent under a car bonnet. I assumed the mechanic in question wasn't much older than us. I watched the one-sided conversation in amusement; he was obviously more interested in the car than he was in her. This was my first memory of him.
Lesson No.1 - Never waste your time and attention on anyone who doesn't return it with equal interest.
Eventually, bowing under the pressure of my sixteen-hour workdays, my car developed problems. My trips to the garage became regular as new car issues arose weekly. Dewey - the most experienced mechanic and most familiar to me, turned my visits into a running joke as I struggled to make my second-hand cars survive. On the periphery of all our conversations, was that mechanic. After acquiring my third car in three months, I'd been relaying the car's history to Dewey when the shadow joined the teasing. This caught my attention; an awareness of his omnipresence followed a realization that I knew nothing of him.
"What is your name?!" I asked, focused on him fully. Unprepared for the question, and startled by my intent, he dropped the tool with which he'd been fiddling.
"Looks like you finally made an impression," Smirked Dewey.
"Emmanuel, but you can call me Mannie." He smiled, wiping his greasy hands on his trousers for me to shake. He was cute. I could understand why Khloe wanted his attention. Very 'boy-next-door'; brown eyes and a round face with dimples in his smile.
Over the following months, the mechanics' teasing intensified. It no longer centered around my car issues, but the chemistry between Mannie and myself. Something I wasn't initially aware of, despite the attention the others drew to it. If I laughed off their remarks, I wasn't denying what they said, but if I objected, I was defensive because I was hiding something. A double-edged sword Mannie and I struggled to parry; without consent, we'd been labelled an 'item', something I wasn't prepared for.
Despite paying for myriad expensive fixes, by the beginning of December, I was grieving my fourth car. Dewey took pity on me and offered to find me a 'reliable car'. I was pulled into a playful hug. "You can hug her you know," he told Mannie, who stood close to me. As if approaching a wild animal, Mannie tentatively put his arm around me, but not trusting I wouldn't bite, removed it seconds later. My indifference to the motion seemed to spur on Mannie's increasing attentiveness. I pretended not to notice.
Lesson No.2 – Whenever you're unsure, act with confidence.
I was distracted in the meantime by another mechanic – Maxis – who'd left his number in my car. He wasn't my type, but we met for coffee. Nothing happened. He was easy to talk to; a nice refuge from the scrutiny of the others. I couldn't fool myself, Mannie's increased attention encouraged my attraction to him. He had a very mischievous, boyish, all-round playfulness about him. It was addictive. Whenever I saw him, I'd be smiling before I could stop myself, and leave with my cheeks aching.
One evening in January, while visiting the garage with my older brother, he'd commented on how Mannie would make a good boyfriend and asked if I had considered it? At home, I entertained these ideas, going so far as to look him up on Facebook. What I found wiped away the smile.
A fiancé.
Children.
Why had he never mentioned them? I shut down all my thoughts and feelings. I couldn't go there, I'd never condone a cheat. It crossed too many moral boundaries.
The start of February brought an unpleasant realization. As I drove past the graveyard, nearing the garage, it dawned how frequently I thought about the garage; conjuring reasons to visit, to see that mechanic. I wasn't naïve about what it meant. It enraged me to have feelings for him. I seethed in silence; I wanted to hit him. I thought I'd erased those feelings, only to realize they'd been festering. Provoked, I vowed to keep my distance.
The-powers-that-be had other ideas. By mid-February, Dewey's 'reliable car' needed a new part. I tried, I tried so hard to remain aloof, but Mannie seemed to try harder to pull me back in. He'd mess with my back-window wiper; I'd see it sticking up in my middle mirror as I drove. He'd sneak up behind me to tickle me or pull the hood over my eyes. I'd take his hat as hostage when he'd swipe my keys and run off with them, so I couldn't leave. The other mechanics were good at dispersing, when it suited them. One night, it happened so quickly... I'd chased him into the back room to retrieve my keys. In a blur of movement, he'd wrapped an arm around my waist, pulled me in and kissed me. My heart stopped. Immediately after, Dewey called him, so I snatched my keys and bolted without a backwards glance.
I don't remember the journey home. Flooded with adrenaline and shock, my head ached with confused thoughts. I wanted to cry. I'd clung to the belief I wasn't that kind of person, yet I'd been so caught up in the playfulness of it all. How had I not anticipated it? More to the point, why didn't I feel guilty?
Lesson No.3 – Understand & embrace your thoughts and feelings. They make you human.
The next time I saw him, it was as if nothing happened. I'd tortured myself about the moral implications of it all, and there he was, the epitome of normality, cheeky and playful as ever. I watched him flit around my car, I tried to gage something, anything about what he thought. Watching him, I began to understand why I didn't feel guilty; there was only him. I didn't see his fiancé, I didn't see his kids, I didn't see the life he went home to. Just him. In his gaze, I felt an inexplicable understanding, so strong there was nothing else. Just us. It was consuming; an overwhelming familiarity, deep and integral. I knew him, and he knew me, in a way that didn't require words. Nothing, but this feeling, has ever tempted me.
Just like the last time, when I went to leave, he took my keys. This time I knew what to expect. This time, as his arms wove around me, I knew to dodge his searching lips. I needed him to know I didn't agree with this situation. "You, mister, are taken." He shrugged and tried to continue. Instead, I escaped to the office, to think away from his presence.
My head screamed to leave; it was wrong, I wasn't that kind of person. My heart demanded I stay to feel loved and wanted for the short time I could spare. Was that so wrong? I was still indecisive as I made to leave, glancing between the cars on the lifts to the back room where Mannie sat on his phone, my heart constricted with conflict. I felt torn; a bloodthirsty war raged between Devil and Angel. Carnage between heart and mind, it was suffocating. The assault on my common-sense left me vulnerable.
Without thinking, his name left my lips. That look combined with those feelings, so frustrating and enticing, had me run towards him. Already on his feet, he steadied the momentum of our impact. This time I kissed him willingly. "Please, don't do something you'll regret." I wanted to give him the choice. In this, I was powerless, but I could find strength to leave if he gave me a reason to.
Lesson No.4 – You have inner strength. Use it.
"If it's with you, I won't regret it." My will crumbled. He'd made his choice, and in doing so we'd both agreed to any consequences. Justifying my lack of guilt, Dewey enlightened me to the character of Mannie's missus; demanding, controlling and smothering. Apparently, Mannie had been 'distracted' once before, and suffered a tight leash for it. This bothered me only in that I didn't want to be another girl in a long line – on the rare occasions we actually had a conversation Mannie declared it nonsense.
The whole 'affair' only amounted into two rendezvous, being stood up twice and the misfortune of having seven cars perish. The first time he'd stood me up, my hurt rebounded to anger. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. My heart was in the firing line and I was hopeless. I deserved better. I pledged to stop seeing him. Determined to see this through, that night I checked and refilled the fluids in my car myself without realizing I'd got them mixed up. The next day, I was forced to return to the garage with my car spewing what looked like strawberry delight. He laughed, and he joked, but he also met my anger. He could only say sorry. My reason told me I couldn't blame him, how could I? He had a family. If you play with fire, you risk getting burnt.
It never really ended. By the end of the year, I'd achieved my goals. In September of 2014, I attended university, which is where I met your Father. When I returned, I told Mannie about him. He teased me about it, but between all the joking, he was happy for me. We seemed to reach a non-verbal agreement. From then onward, he became a close friend – the kind that however rarely you met, it always seemed as if no time had passed. It took another two years before my feelings changed from being in love with him, to just loving him. I've felt desolation, humiliation and conflict. But also valued, desired and liberated. I learnt to love myself, to question my assumptions, and to feel only human. For all of that, I finished my gap year stronger, aware of my capabilities and more understanding and enduring than ever.
Lesson No.5 – Don't shy away from experience & always trust your instincts.
With all my heart,
Your loving Mum.