Loopy

When Charlie goes away for work I go a bit loopy. Usually I think of myself as quite a capable, organised and independent person, but the first few days after his departure are always a bit wonky. I don’t know what it is, it’s been especially acute since moving here. With a significantly reduced social circle (to two- me and him) having the entire population of my social network disappear to the other side of the world for three weeks is a little disarming. The first trip he did from the States in June was ridiculous now I look back at it. I had this obscene sense of pride that demanded I stay in America rather than go back to my parent’s home in England. It was as if leaving the US when Charlie did would mean I was admitting that I hadn’t made it work. Being that we were only 2 and half months in to the move I think I lost sight of the fact that it was bloody obvious I hadn’t made it work yet, how could I have done without yet having moved to a proper home, acquired leave to work or bought a sofa?

The first trip took place when we were in our sublet. I get on my knees and pray with thanks every time I think of Andrew, our saviour landlord. After having been let down at the last minute by the sublet I had previously arranged, he offered us his place for the six weeks we needed. I have no complaints about our accommodation as the only other option was living in our car. It sounds funny now but at one point living in the car was a serious viable option. The only slight hiccup in the accommodation department was that Andrew’s place was unfurnished (unlike the original sublet I had found) so our only furniture or home ware was a blow up mattress we bought from Walmart on the drive over and some wine glasses. Priorities people, priorities.

The reason the apartment was available was that Andrew had literally signed the purchase agreement the day before and his new tenants weren’t due to move in for six weeks. So knowing that this was always going to be a temporary arrangement we didn’t have the option of signing ourselves up to any type of internet. Skype is my lifeline to my family in England so I knew this would be tough, but being opposite the library meant I could use their wifi… for an hour a day, whispering.

So let’s recap: a blow up bed, wine glasses, no connection to the outside world (ie England).

There was also a freak heat wave in June but because we were on the ground floor I had to promise my mum (who was convinced a serial killer lurked in the basement and gangbangers lived in the next street) that I wouldn’t leave the window open at night. So imagine all that but also really sticky.

So I waved Charlie off on his trip and set about being super positive that I could do this whole living in America thing on my own. Quite why I thought that self-enforced solitude on the other side of the world would convince everyone I was alright is beyond me.

The first few days we’re great, I went to markets, I read a lot; I took out DVD’s from the library (discovered Breaking Bad) and thought this is all going to be fine! Then my granddad died.

Trying to speak to your parents in the midst of your grandfather living his final hours, on shitty 3G powered Skype, on a cell phone that is getting alarmingly hot against your face is shit. Dashing up the road in the rain (I should have had some sort of power ballad playing to accompany me) to steal Wifi then crying in public outside a Chinese launderette where they do NOT understand ‘why you so much cry’ is also not great either.

So for this Charlie trip I am going home. I don’t feel it’s an admission of failure on my part at all, I feel it is a well-deserved break. We are finally set up in our flat, I am working, my friends are doing some very exciting things back home and Matalan is dying for a mother daughter spree of sorts.

As dad (pilot man) was doing a Boston a few days after Charlie shipped out I thought it would make sense to hang on and jump on his return flight. Return home + some quality father and daughter time (and a new coat from H&M- thanks pop) = smiles all round. This did mean I was on my jack for two days in Providence but now that I had some work on and the flat was all nice I thought it would actually be a great opportunity to get some stuff finished off.

I am in that period of working where I am desperately trying to impress everyone without looking like I’m desperately trying to impress everyone- ‘I’m just this good all the time don’t you know?’... no. I’m like a business-attire clad swan, gliding along trying to look like I’m taking it all in my stride and being awesome whilst paddling away like a mentalist getting it all and everything else done a week before a deadline.

I’ve written an article about Thanksgiving which will hopefully be featured in a Rhode Island magazine next month. I have finished the article and my dad liked it, we all know that parental enthusiasm and praise is indicative of real life good work so I feel pretty chuffed about it. But I’ve also decided to send in some accompanying illustrations in the hope that I might get noted for that ability also. They might just say ‘oh that’s nice, but don’t do it again’ or (a bit like getting pinged for the article itself) it might lead to other interesting opportunities.

The illustrations I wanted to do required some craft materials, so after work on the first day of Charlie’s departure I hopped in the car to drive to a craft shop just over the border in Massachusetts. I marvelled at how far I’d come emotionally, feeling so empowered that I was dealing well with Charlie going away and make sensible decisions about travelling home. Also how exciting things were in my professional life and feeling pretty chuffed that I had actually made it work in America.

It was twenty minutes later I realised I had taken the wrong exit onto the interstate and was in Connecticut.