Writing Our Song Read Free Page B

could only be described as terror.  Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes I repeated over and over again in my mind.
    “Didn’t we say you weren’t allowed to date until you were sixteen?”
    “No.  I don’t think we ever talked about it.”
    My dad looked confused for a moment.  “Who did I say that to then?”
    “Dad!  Be serious for once.  Please, I really want to go!”
    “OK, OK.  Look, I am being serious, my honest gut reaction is to say no and go make sure my shotgun is still in good working order but… oh boy.  This is all a bit sudden for me.  Let me think.”
    “But can I go?”
    “What did I just say?  I think I’m out of my league here, maybe you should talk to your mother. “
    “Dad, no!  Can’t you just say yes?”
    “This… you’re just growing up so fast, Bea.  OK, look, you’re not a kid anymore and I know you’ll just jump out the window if I lock you in here but I really think you should talk with your mom, get a female perspective on dating.”
    “Dad…”
    “Here’s how we’ll play it.  I’ll tell her I’ve already implied you can go, but I haven’t.  If she says no, then it’s a no from me too.”
    “Dad!”
    “Bea, it’s not ‘no’ forever.  It’s not even ‘no’ this time yet, just give your mom a chance.”
    “Oh boy.  OK,” I said, deflating down to sit on the edge of my bed.
    My dad left the room and I looked down at my hands in my lap as I began to wring them nervously.  Things had never been quite right between my mom and I.  Apparently after I was born she had something called postnatal depression, which led to all kinds of problems and it went undiagnosed for a good couple of months.
    It wasn’t her fault or anything, from what I’d heard it happened to a lot of women, but she was so exhausted and sleep deprived during those early days that it was always my dad that had come to cuddle me when I woke up crying in the night.  By the time she got the help she needed and was able to cope, I was already officially a little daddy’s girl.
    That was all well before my first memories of course and I couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been, for want of a better word, a ‘satisfactory’ mother.  She gave me everything I needed, she wasn’t mean, cruel or unfair but sometimes it felt like she was just going through the motions.  Sometimes it felt like maybe she hadn’t forgiven me or my dad for what she had gone through, or for how close he and I were.
    My looks came from my mom, everybody always said how alike we were, but everything else seemed to come from my dad.  My sense of humor, my taste in and love of music, my outlook on life, all him.  I usually knew what I was going to get out of a talk with him.
    I didn’t want to have this conversation with my mom, I had no idea where it was going to go, what she might say or do.  Another thought made me cringe, what if she decided this was time for the birds and the bees talk?  I’d learned all of that in school, the last thing I wanted was to listen to my mom go over it again.
    Footsteps approached from the hallway and I tensed up before she knocked and walked in at the same time.  I gave her a tight-lipped smile, feeling a mild blush rising on my cheeks.
    “Hi, Mom.”
    “Oh Bea… I’m sure you’re as nervous as I am.  Did your dad give you a pep talk like he did for me?”
    “Yeah,” I chuckled, “sort of.”
    It was an unexpectedly light-hearted start, I dared to hope that it might go well as she cleared a spot for herself to sit down on my bed.  After sitting down, she looked at my scattered clothes as if hoping to find some cue-cards before sighing.
    “I don’t know about this, Beatrice, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
    “Why?”
    “You’re too…” she paused as if realizing something for the first time.  “I can’t believe you’re fifteen.”
    “Closer to sixteen.”
    “OK… you’re not too young.  I’m kind of surprised you