Three Years, Five Months and Eleven Days

Chapter Twenty-Three

The picture on the side is the necklace.

Hope you enjoy, tell me what you think :D

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     ‘So what do you guys want to do today?’ Lisa asked when Michael and I appeared for breakfast around midday, slightly more clothed than previously. We were sitting at the table eating, and she was next to Michael, just watching us.

     Michael shrugged. ‘I dunno. What is there to do?’

     ‘Well I thought that maybe Debby might like to do some sight-seeing since it’s her only day in Manchester,’ she suggested.

     ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ I said.

     ‘Yes you would,’ he told me. ‘There’s nothing to see in Manchester, just a few museums.’

     ‘It doesn’t have to be museums you know,’ Lisa pointed out. ‘You could just take her to see the centre, buy her something pretty,’ she nudged him with her elbow as she said this.

     Michael rolled his eyes, and stood up to put his empty plate in the dishwasher. ‘Mum you need to be less happy about this whole situation.’

     ‘What so you want me to dislike Debby?’ she asked. ‘To disapprove of you two?’

     ‘No, it’s just that you seem more enthusiastic about her than me,’ he explained.

     Lisa grinned. ‘You say that now when Debby’s here, you’re just trying to act indifferent,’ she teased. ‘It’s a whole other story when it’s just me.’

      ‘Whatever,’ he said defensively. ‘I’m going to have a shower, is that cool with you Deb?’

      I nodded. ‘Go ahead, I’ve got your mum to keep me company.’

     He disappeared through the doorway and Lisa turned to me, excited. ‘Does he always pretend to not be crazy about you?’ she asked, sounding like a gossiping schoolgirl.

     ‘No, that’s just when you’re here,’ I told her. ‘He’s pretty open about it generally.’

     She gazed out the door, where he had been a second before. ‘I’m so proud of him,’ she muttered, half to herself and half to me. ‘He’s a nice guy right? I mean he’s not pressuring you into anything you don’t want to do?’

     ‘No, no,’ I reassured her. ‘We’ve talked about it loads, and though he would have it differently if I were willing, he’s accepted that I’m still really young.’ The conversation we were having should have been awkward: this was my boyfriend’s mother, who I’d only met yesterday, and yet it didn’t feel it at all.

     ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘I was really glad when I heard he was going out with someone younger. It’s strange, I know, but from my point of view it’s better. Dating someone young will teach him about the emotional attachment you can have without the physical one, which in turn will teach him how to treat women.’ She was practically glowing with pride.

     ‘He’s already pretty good at that,’ I told her. ‘He’s by far the sweetest guy I know, always thinking of me, complimenting me and all that. He really brightens up my life.’

     Some of the joy faded from her face, it was ever so subtle, but I noticed it. ‘You do know that it can’t last?’ she asked, sounding concerned.

     ‘Of course!’

     ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just- the way you talk about him… you seemed, just from the way you said it, to think that it would last for ever.’