Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect Read Online Free Page B

you’re twenty is fun – all those hopes and dreams, all those future relationships and adventures to look forward to.  Being single at fifty-five is just … sad.  All you’ve got to look forward to is drawing your pension, varicose veins and incontinence pads.  Not the same at all.
    I did pull a sickie on that Monday – I just couldn’t face school.
    I couldn’t face Life, either.  I lay in bed all day, just occasionally getting up to go to the fridge.  Unfortunately, I still seemed to have an appetite – I obviously wasn’t going to be one of those women who lose loads of weight, in a crisis.  In fact, I found myself comfort eating: toast with loads of butter; chocolate digestives that were hiding at the back of the cupboard and a whole tub of chocolate chip ice cream.
    By the evening, not only was I feeling sick from over-eating, but I was also feeling guilty about my classes – I have, despite everything, a deep-seated desire to do a good job.  I went in on Tuesday, avoided the staffroom, kept my head down and left on the dot.
    *
    When he walked out that night, all I kept thinking about was Holly and Adam – although they’re ‘adults’ now and have their own lives, this was going to be devastating news for them.  Particularly for Holly – she worships her Dad.  Adam and David, on the other hand, fight like male lions, tearing each other apart, at every available opportunity.  David just doesn't understand Adam and Adam thinks his father is a ‘dickhead’ (his words, not mine – but come to think of it, a pretty apt description.)
    Adam had been staying with a friend, the night before that Saturday, leaving the coast clear for David to do his evil deed.  Holly lives in London, so was out of the picture, anyway.
    They’re so different, Adam and Holly.  She’s so focussed and hard-working; Adam’s more of a free-spirit and hasn’t got a clue what he wants to do – he thinks that surfing is a great career choice and that his ‘A’ levels are irrelevant.  None of us are sure he’ll pass any of them – he’s a bright boy, but doesn't apply himself to anything that involves sitting down.
    Adam texted late Saturday night; I was still staring at the television, unable to drag myself to my solitary bed.  It read: Staying over again. See ya tomoz.
    When the phone vibrated, I thought for a mad moment it was David – Soz, bad joke, I know.  Convincing though!
    But no, of course, it wasn’t him. 
    Adam was always good at letting me know what he was doing and I was grateful that he’d done so this time.  I had no energy left to worry about him that night. 
    When he eventually wandered in at two o’clock on the Sunday afternoon, he didn’t even comment on the fact that David’s car wasn’t there – he probably didn’t even notice.
    I was still in my pyjamas and Gaz was looking extremely hard done-by.
    “You look rough, Mum … heavy night?” he said, as he dumped his bag in the middle of the floor.
    “Thanks.  You could say that, yes.”  I opened my mouth to tell him the news, but nothing came out.  I was sitting on the sofa, surrounded by empty crisp packets.  I stood up.
    “What are your plans for the rest of the day, Adam?”
    “Not a lot.  I thought I’d have a kip now – didn’t get a lot of sleep last night or the night before, for that matter.  Got a cracking head.”
    “Can I have a word …” I said, as he was making his way to the stairs.
    “What?”
    “I thought you should know … your Dad’s left.”  I wasn’t sure how to tell him.  Blunt, seemed the best way.
    “What d’ya mean?  Where’s the old git gone?”  Adam was always one for showing respect for his elders.
    “He’s left us.  He’s gone to live with Mrs Barton, the PE teacher.”  As I said it, it was like I was part of some awful sit-com.
    Adam’s face was a picture of incredulity.  A smirk came over his face and he said, “You’re joking, right?”
    “No, Adam, I’m