Life Gets Bigger

My life changed a month after my sixteenth birthday. It was almost surreal walking into breakfast, expecting to find my parents and listen to their stories about their delayed anniversary dinner in London the night before. Only my parents weren't there; it was Gran, and she'd clearly been crying.

"Callum, my love, we need to talk," She said, her voice hoarse.

Instantly, I knew. I knew when I sat down Gran was going to tell me that my parents had died. I stood still, wanting to delay the moment until the urge to vomit overtook me, and I rushed to the toilet to heave. I'm not sure how much time passed before I heard the gentle knock on the door.

"Callum, are you okay?"

"Please, Gran, just give me a minute," I replied, still staring into the toilet bowl.

"Okay, Love, I'll put the kettle on and make you some toast."

As the nausea passed, I sat on the floor; the tiles felt colder than normal. I willed myself to get up, but I couldn't. The floor was safe, the floor gave me the protection of ignorance. The moment I got up and joined Gran, it would be real but the cold floor was my temporary sanctuary from the truth. Seconds turned to minutes before I forced myself to stand. I couldn't delay the inevitable forever.

Returning to the kitchen, I saw Gran had made my toast just the way I liked it: lots of butter and a thin layer of marmite. Taking my seat, I took a sip of tea and a bite of the toast before I finally raised my eyes to face her.

"Callum, I'm so sorry. Your mum and dad, there was an accident last night, and..."

I barely heard Grandma's voice trailing off as I forced myself to process the news that my deepest fear had become my reality.

"How?" I asked quietly.

"The police will be here later to tell us more, but my understanding is they were crossing the road to the tube station when a drunk driver missed the light and hit them. The paramedics did everything they could, but your parents were already dead by the time they reached the hospital."

The police visit was almost pointless. They didn't tell us much more than we already knew, except that the man who killed my parents had been arrested. Maybe later that would matter, but in that moment, I just wondered why these strangers thought I was interested in their sympathy. I knew once they left, I would be forgotten in days as I became another file number, and they would move on to telling the next family that they had lost a loved one.

I never felt more alone than I did in bed that night. I had always loved my small family and the close bond it allowed us, but then it hit me. It was just me and Gran now. Suddenly, I felt the weight of the curse my family had placed on me; I was the only child of only children. Once Gran left me, I would be alone.

The days that followed passed with the flurry of activity that only those who have experienced the death of a loved one will understand. Gran protected me from some of it, leaving me at home when she went to identify my parents, but I was present for most of it. I had to politely sit through the seemingly endless stream of visitors that follow grief. Dad's work colleagues, my parent's friends, and the neighbourhood mums who would drop in every day with gifts of food, easing Gran's burden. I didn't mind all the activity. It kept me engaged and focused in the present, a small escape from having to think too deeply about my loss even as I was constantly reminded of it.

I managed to hold on to this perverse detachment all the way up to the funeral. I maintained my composure as I stood next to Gran, shaking hands and welcoming my parent's mourners to the crematorium chapel. I listened to the eulogies, hearing their friends' memories, occasionally wondering why I didn't know these details about the two most important people I'd ever known. It was only when I watched my parent's coffins disappear through the curtains that the finality of it all hit me, and I broke down.

I stayed in the chapel long after the mourners filed out, processing my reluctant acceptance of my parents' departure. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't notice when the seat next to me was taken.

"It does get better, you know," A voice said.

I looked up to see one of our neighbours, Mike, he'd been friendly with Dad, they were occasional drinking buddies, and they played cricket together.

"Fuck off, Mike, it can't be better; how can I feel better about my parents being gone?" I snapped, unhappy with the intrusion into my private moment.

"Look, just listen and I'll fuck off but listen to me for a moment," Mike said kindly. "People are going to tell you the pain gets better, that's bullshit, it doesn't. The hole in your heart doesn't get smaller. What happens is that your life gets bigger, and you learn to grow with the pain; you learn to embrace new experiences and new feelings, and slowly, the pain and hurt move away from the centre and start living on the edges. You know it's there; you even revisit it a few times when you want to remember them. It just stops being that all-consuming hurt that dominates your every thought. Now, I'll fuck off, but if you ever need to talk about anything, you know where I live."

"Thanks for the advice, Mike," I replied. "I know you're trying to help, but I've spoken more than enough. I just want to be able to move on."

"That's okay too. Look after yourself, Callum. That offer doesn't have an expiry date."

As an only child, my parents' estate was the easiest part of the process. Quite simply, I inherited everything. Per their wishes, all of their assets were placed in trust until I graduated from university or my 25

th

birthday, whichever happened first. The only exception was their successful transport and logistics business. I would not be allowed to assume control until my thirtieth birthday. I would receive a generous allowance after my 18

th

birthday, but until then, Gran had total authority over my care. After the solicitor's visit, Gran and I had our first serious conversation since the morning our lives were turned upside down.

"Callum, there are going to have to be a few changes," Gran told me. "I'm responsible for you now, and I can't just be the person you turn to when you want to be spoiled anymore. You've just gone through something that nobody your age should have to deal with, and you haven't even begun to start healing. I know you've been pretending because that's been helping you cope, but you need to let yourself feel like you did at the funeral. So I'm going to make you a deal. I know you're going to do things as a response to your grief and anger; that's understandable, so I will turn a blind eye as long as you keep yourself safe, you don't let your schoolwork slip, and you attend a decent university. Do we have a deal?"

"Okay, Gran, we have a deal," I replied, shocked by her offer and the sincerity of her words. "What happens if I slip up?"

"I'm hoping I've made a good decision here, and you won't, but that's just an old woman's foolish optimism when talking to a 16-year-old, so let's say we'll cross that bridge when we get there."

"Okay, Gran," I said, thinking over our new agreement. "Gran?" I added quietly after a few moments.

"Yes, Love?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dear."

Going back to school after my summer was difficult. I thought I had gotten over the worst of dealing with the loss of my parents, so I wasn't prepared for the whispers and pitying looks that followed me around. The change with my friends wasn't as overt, but it was there. There was always an invite for dinner or a sleepover. Their mums always wanted to know if I'd eaten enough, and their dads would be more generous with our curfew because I was there. It was almost worse from the teachers; this was sixth form. The start of my transition from childhood to adulthood. Yet the way they looked at me, the extra checks if I was okay or needed more support, all of it let me know that in their eyes, I was no longer Callum. I had become the boy whose parents died.

I knew I couldn't shed that title, so I resolved to be something more. Yes, I was the boy whose parents had died, but I could show them I was more than that. Using my new freedom from Gran, I became more sociable and outgoing. I attended every party I could. At these parties, I learned that the bigger the show I put on, the less people focussed on my loss, and in those moments, I could allow myself to forget.

Embracing my new identity was surprisingly easy. It wasn't really an act; I enjoyed the parties, the showmanship, and most importantly, the freedom. As I fell into my new life, I remained conscious of the deal I made with Gran. In fact, I only fell foul of our agreement once. It was stupid, and I knew better, but I got caught up in the moment. It was meant to be a simple house party to celebrate the end of our AS year; all Gran had asked for was a phone call if I wasn't coming home, and I forgot.

When I got home the next morning, I was clearly hungover and stinking of booze. Gran wasn't there. She'd called in reinforcements. Waiting for me in our kitchen were Mike and Alex. I liked Alex more than Mike; he was the young dad, less than a decade older than me, but looking at them, I knew this wasn't a friendly visit.

"Callum, sit down, shut up and listen," Mike said angrily. "Your grandmother explained your deal to us, and even though I think it's the height of stupidity, I'm not going to get into that. Callum, you are 17 now, and going out and exploring your limits is fine. But using this behaviour as an outlet for your grief is not. When the moron next to me was in the same place, I drove him out into the middle of nowhere and forced him to confront his pain. I can't do that with you because we're not in Botswana, and your Gran won't let me, but for fucks sake, let yourself feel something. I told you a year ago all you had to do was ask, and I would help you." Mike paused before taking a deep breath and talking in a much more even tone. "Okay, now that's out of my system. Tell us what's going on while I catch my breath."

The force of Mike's attack took me by surprise. No one had spoken to me like that since my dad. Shocked by the confrontation, I broke down and explained everything about how I had felt when I returned to school and my desire to be more than that. Then I explained how much I enjoyed, I enjoyed the parties, the attention, and being free from my pain.

Mike and Alex both looked at me sympathetically before they had a quick chat in Setswana as they often did.

"Mike, let me handle this one," Alex said, reverting to English. "You're angry because you see too much of yourself in him. Let me try a more tactical approach."

Alex made some coffee while Mike left. I was conscious of him looking at me; part of me was angry at their intrusion into my life, but they hadn't come on their own. Gran had asked them to because of my behaviour; confronting them would only make my situation worse.

"You should listen to him, you know. Even though I'll never say it to his face, he has this annoying habit of being right," Alex finally said when the coffee was ready. "What he did for me after my mum died changed my life and honestly put me on the course to meeting and marrying Lily. I'm not going to lecture you or yell like Mike. I'm going to say my piece, drink my coffee and leave. What you do with this information is up to you, but before I do, I will warn you that if your grandmother ever calls us again, Mike

will

fly you out to Botswana and keep you in the bush until you learn to manage yourself better, and I will help him. Are we clear on that?"

I didn't have the words to respond, so I nodded.

"Good," Alex continued. "Callum, your grandmother loves you; you're her last relative and her daily reminder of her son. She's given you this freedom because she knows she can't replace what you've lost. What scares her is that this new you appeared so soon after your parents died, and because you've shown no outward signs of real grief, she doesn't know if it's a coping mechanism or you are discovering yourself. Based on what you told us, I think it's a bit of both, which is fine. Just be mindful of her fears about losing you. Even without what you told us, I would have bet my marriage you have similar fears. I would have made that bet because I had them about losing my dad after my mum died, and I have a massive extended family, not including the extended family of friends and community Mike is offering you. Go out, party, discover yourself, and if it helps you cope, fine. Just don't put your Gran or yourself in this position again. Now you have about an hour before she comes back. Get a shower and brush your teeth."

After that day, I made a more conscious effort to consider Gran's feelings as I enjoyed my new life. I made it to University. I picked Newcastle because, academically, it met Gran's requirements and because it's a party town. If I were going to get a degree, I would have as much fun as possible doing it. I even gritted my teeth long enough to ask Mike for his advice because it was his alma mater. Despite our previous interactions, he was kind and generous with advice and encouraged me to join a football team.

"Callum, I loved my time in Newcastle. Just do me a favour and join a football team, society or something like that. I can even help you join my old team. I don't know what it's like now, but when I was there, we were as much a drinking club as we were a football team, so you'll probably love it. We considered it a bad term if we didn't make the paper at least once with reports of what we got up to on a night out. I can't tell you what to do, and I know you'll probably indulge in the many things Newcastle has to offer. I know I did. But maybe if you join a team or something, you'll get to enjoy it with some mates around you. It's your first time away from home, and no matter where you are, you need a support network."

Given how I had ignored his offers of help previously, I was surprised by the supportive way he helped me with my decision to attend Newcastle. So much so that I even accepted his offer to take my Dad's old place on the pub cricket team over the summer before I left home for the first time.

As soon as I arrived in Newcastle, I knew I had made the right choice. Socially, I loved everything the city had to offer: the food, the nightlife, and the welcoming nature of the people. It took me a few weeks to understand

Geordie,

but it wasn't as big an adjustment as I had thought. It also helped that my trust allowance was probably too generous for an 18-year-old properly exploring his freedom for the first time.

For the first time in two years, I wasn't the boy whose parents had died; I could be Callum, and I loved it. The persona I had developed became more pronounced as I embraced every indulgence the city offered, from the happy hour button game on Osbourne Road to the trebles bars on nights out, even the football team Mike suggested I join. More often than not, I did quite well in finding female company. I knew part of it was the financial freedom I had in comparison to other students, but I didn't care. It was fun and consensual, and I always treated the ladies I met with respect, whether they came home with me or not.

It wasn't all fun, and I did spend some time on my academic work. It was important to Gran, and I didn't want to disappoint her. Maybe I wasn't as diligent as she hoped, and I became known as the person who did just enough to get by and only tried when I had to. That wasn't strictly true, as I typically received decent marks for my work. I just preferred people thinking I didn't care; they tended not to try and delve too deeply that way, and I could keep my past in Oxford.

My attitude changed in my final year when I met Josie. We had met several times in passing, a side effect of sharing several classes. But as far as I knew, our social circles didn't overlap, and our interests were different. So we had never met properly. I did know she was a great student who treated university like a profession, dedicating 8 hours a day to lectures and tutorials and spending time in the library while I was planning the football team's next social outing.

I finally got to know her when we were thrown together on a project at the start of our final year. The other half of our group was hostile to my presence and deliberately pushed some of the more time-intensive work in my direction, trying to minimise my chances of just skating by. My reputation preceded me. Josie remained silent.

She remained behind as the group left before turning on me.

"Callum, here's the deal," She said firmly. "I know you're not dumb; no one does as little work as you and still gets the marks they need to still be here. I'm prepared to give you a chance. No one else will. Do your work, and I'll have your back. Fuck me around and ruin my chances at graduating with a First, and I'll do everything I can to make you suffer."

I was shocked. No one spoke to me like that or called me out on my behaviour. But I also felt strangely seen by her. Outside of the few close friends I allowed myself, she seemed to be one of the few people who could see past the image I had created. She expected more of me. I later learned it was just who she was.

Instead of trusting me to do my share of the work, she started making appointments to meet me in the library and supervise me. One day, as we worked on our project, she confronted me about my previous behaviour. Through our study sessions, we got to know each other a little. She still wasn't very interested in getting to know me, but we managed to have a few decent conversations.

"Why teaching?" I asked one day after she told me her plans. "You're studying for a degree in Economics, and you're almost certainly going to get a First. Why not go after something more lucrative?"

"I've always wanted to be a teacher," she replied simply, not looking up from her book. "It's not really about the subject; I could've done English, Maths, whatever, I'd still want to be a teacher. The way I look at it, I'm a teacher whose best subject happens to be economics. Don't you have that thing that you just know you want to do?"

"No," I replied simply. "I mostly picked Economics because I find it interesting, and I've always been able to grasp the concepts fairly easily. I could've studied History for the same reasons, I suppose, but Economics seemed more interesting when I applied. But I haven't thought about the future in a long time."

Conversations like this became a common part of our routine. I thought we had developed an easy peace until the week before our deadline. I slipped up and went on team night before one of our sessions. She wasn't happy when I turned up more than a little hungover.

"Seriously, now is when you decide to show your true colours, just before our deadline?" She said angrily. "3 weeks, you've been fine, turning up and keeping your partying away from me, but just when it becomes important, you decide that it's time for you to show up hungover. Well, thanks for getting my hopes up that there was a person that cared in there."

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "It was a team night out. Just because you make me turn up to these sessions doesn't mean my life stopped happening. You knew who I was, but I was here every time. I'm still here. Yes, I'm hungover, but I came; I didn't text you some bullshit excuse. So let's do what we need to do, and after we hand it in next week, we can go back to the world in which you dislike me so much."

"Callum, I only dislike you because you don't seem to care about anyone or anything but yourself. You're clearly more than clever enough to be successful. So tell me, why don't you care?"

"Why should I care?" I replied, angry now myself. "My parents are gone; all I have is Gran, and if we're honest, she will likely be gone in the next decade. Then it'll just be me. No one will care about me or what I do. I'm only here to make Gran happy, and once she goes, it won't matter. So I do enough to make sure I get my degree, and everything else is just for me."