Faking It

His phone pings and he starts to type. I focus on the road and try to think about something else but it’s impossible – nothing feels as big as Dylan’s impending departure.

‘Is Zoe nervous about leaving so early?’ I ask, after a few minutes of silence. ‘And how are her parents doing?

I am obsessed with how other parents are handling this major life event. I’ve spent hours online looking for forums where people (mostly women) talk about how they coped with their children leaving home, looking for tactics and strategies that might help my brain to calm down, just for a bit.

‘She’s a bit anxious about meeting her flatmates,’ Dylan tells me. ‘They haven’t got a group chat like my flat has so she isn’t sure what they’re going to be like. But her parents are chill with it all, you know?’

‘Oh, they’re chill?’ I indicate and pull left onto our street. ‘Of course they are. Because why wouldn’t they be? It’s a chill thing, isn’t it? I am also chill. And cool. Totally cool. Because it’s all going to be absolutely fine and brilliant and amazing.’

Dylan gives me a look as I turn off the engine.

‘Are you doing okay, Mum?’

It’s so important that I don’t project my fears and emotions onto him. This isn’t about me. It’s about my darling, sweet, first-born child and I have got to be strong enough for both of us.

‘Me?’ I laugh in a light-hearted manner. ‘I’m absolutely fine! Why wouldn’t I be? I won’t have to wash your stinky socks or spend hours collecting dirty plates and mugs from your room or chauffer you around the place because you decided that driving lessons weren’t that interesting!’ I plaster on my chirpiest smile. ‘I should have sent you packing years ago!’

Dylan puts his hand on my arm. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m ready for the next adventure, Mum.’

‘Of course you are.’ I turn away to open the door so that he can’t see my face because I’m getting this all the wrong way round and he’s not the one who is supposed to be comforting me. ‘You’re absolutely ready.’

It’s me who isn’t ready. And I don’t think I ever will be.

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