Taking a deep breath, Dad seemed to mellow out.
"Plus we ran out of your blue face paint at Halloween when we dressed up as Smurfs."
Huffing out a sigh at not getting to beat some English meat, he seemed to restrain himself. "I'm just so angry, sweetheart. I'm raging, you ken?"
"I know, but let’s just forget it and move on. Hey, with any luck I’ll get myself a Scottish boy next," I laughed.
"Aye, that'd be good. But no fenians, you hear? If they support Celtic, dunnae even bother bringing him home! You're my little girl. My miracle," he sniffed, and wiped away a single tear.
I laid my head on his shoulder. "I know, Dad."
One parent appeased, I turned to my mother to see her bottom lip beginning to tremble.
Great, here come the water works!
"Oh, my sweet girl, how could he?" she said, rushing over to me and crushing me into her ample bosom. "And on the imported Italian leather L-shape? Has he no shame?"
"Mam, I’m fine, really," I managed to mumble out of my current suffocation.
Letting go, she grabbed my cheeks and looked me in the eye to check for fibs.
"Honestly, Mam, I think it’s for the best. You know I don't let things get to me. Especially after speaking to the homeless man. I'm just pissed off that he threw a whopping spanner in my life plan. I mean I’m twenty-eight and no spring chicken, but, thinking about it, I never really loved him; he just fit the profile I was looking for in a potential partner."
My parents furrowed their brows at how I could talk so coldly about someone I had been in a relationship with for three years, but it was true – I don’t think I ever really loved him. He was just... convenient.
"But how could he?” my mother continued. “After all you have been through, the insensitive little shit! Wait, did you say you spoke to a homeless man?"
I waved my hand in front of me, dismissing her worry. "It doesn’t matter about the homeless man, Mam. Please stop worrying. I’m not a charity case!" I shouted in exasperation.
My mam tutted at my little outburst. "Firstly, I do not think you are a charity case, but you have had more than your fair share of bad luck in this life, and I for one cannot believe that Nathan, knowing all of that, still betrayed you in such a way," she cried into her hands.
"I know, Mam, but it’s done; I’m moving on. I think it was a blessing in disguise anyway. It saved me from a messy future divorce and gave me a new perspective on life."
She sat beside me, stroking my hair and holding my hand, nodding and staring into space.
"Erm, guys, I have something else to say in regards to said, new perspective," I started again, wanting to keep the momentum of the revelations going.
"What is it, flower?" asked my mam.
"Tink and I are moving to Calgary. In five months," I said in an upbeat tone. "Ta-daa!" I added weakly, as an afterthought, incorporating my award winning jazz hands into the reveal.
"I dunnae feckin' think so!" My dad rose to his feet and began pacing and spouting expletives again.
I looked in my mother’s direction. She was looking a deathly shade of white and had definitely stopped breathing, slouched over Brunhilde, the Munro family dachshund.
My father halted in his rant abruptly and looked me in the eye, no longer upset. "Let me get this straight. Yesterday you were living your life as normal, yes?"
I nodded.
He continued. "Then you go home and find your boyfriend with another woman, break up with him, go to Tink’s, get blindingly drunk and decide to move to Calgary, Canada?"
He waited for my answer in silence.
"Erm, in a nutshell, y-yes," I stammered. It did sound kind of random, hearing it said out loud.
"You need to answer a few things for me."
"Okay." All eyes were on me.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?"
I cleared my throat. "Well, I realised yesterday that I needed to get back some joie de vivre, and unfortunately it took my boyfriend’s infidelity to show me that. Then I went for a walk and asked for a sign, and, Jane Austen spoke to me from the grave telling me to seize the day and then Tink and I got drunk and I decided that a change of scenery was exactly what I needed.”
My father shook his head in disbelief. "I've have never heard anything so feckin' stupid in all my life!"
"I second that motion!" piped up my mother dryly, with her arms crossed firmly across her chest.
That’s it!
"Whether you like it or not, I am doing it, so you have five months to come to terms with it. That may sound harsh, but I want to do this, and I’m old enough and stupid enough to go through with it!"
I walked to each of my parents and kissed each of them on the cheek, and made my way out of the house feeling like Xena Warrior Princess at standing up to my somewhat over-protective elders. I was sure they would come around in time – but until then, I headed back to my favourite fairy. It was time for another drink!
* * *
To say the following months were a blur would be an understatement. Dorothy in the tornado on her road to Oz had more structure and organisation than I did. Tink, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. Having years ago been left a hefty inheritance by his eccentric and fabulously wealthy artist uncle, he had no reason to work.
However, Tink being Tink felt that not working would be to deprive the world of his unrivalled social skills, so for years had held gainful employment as a waiter in our local Italian restaurant, to enhance his verbal and, most importantly, flirting communication. Tink loved nothing more than feeding his espresso addiction while chatting to anyone and everyone about anything and everything. Coincidentally, Mario, the owner of the Italian restaurant where Tink currently worked, just so happened to have an friend in Calgary who was more than happy to organise a similar job for him there.