"Miss Isobelle Harding," our principal, Mr. Saunders, called me to the stage.
Shaking with adrenaline and sweating like a bitch in heat, I ascended the steps with the sound of applause ringing in my ears. All my focus went into not tripping in my graduation gown and looking like a complete dickhead in front of all these people. The pressure of having a hundred pairs of eyes following me across the stage scorched my face with embarrassment. I wasn't exactly an outgoing person and despised being the center of attention. Perspiration formed across my upper lip like a sweaty mustache, making me feel sticky and gross.
Why did this gown have to be made from black polyester?
In temperatures of eighty-six degrees, the heavy material was suffocating. By the time I had walked across the stage floor, I was a flustered mess. As subtle as I could muster, I wiped my damp palms against my gown before accepting the diploma. The principal grasped my clammy hand as we exchanged an awkward handshake. I couldn't get away quick enough, scampering off down the opposite steps to where my best friend, Joanne Prichard, was waiting for me.
A beaming smile spread wide across her face. "We did it!" she squealed jubilantly, bouncing on her heels.
"I know," I gushed, relieved that the torture was finally over. "Thank fuck for that. No more essays. No more exams. We’re fully-fledged adults. Productive members of society," I expressed, reminiscent of all the caffeine-infused nights that we had endured over the last few years.
“Soon-to-be taxpayers you mean,” Joanne replied, bursting my bubble.
My heart dropped. “Oh, yeah. And repaying the student loans.” The thought was daunting.
"Fuck the loans. I can't believe you're going away tomorrow. I'm gutted I can't come with you," Joanne grumbled, pouting her lips to display her envy. “You’re such a lucky bitch.”
It was true. I was lucky to have been chosen out of all the other candidates. The university had secured a grant for one person to travel abroad to study a rare species of Canis lupus, more commonly known as wolves. An unknown species was found in the faraway state of Whitehaven, and I had been chosen to research them. All the necessary equipment, also food and lodging, would be provided. I didn’t have to worry about anything. When the information pack came through the mail, I obsessively scoured through it to find out anything I could about the place, the culture, and whether I’d be staying in the wilderness or a town with lots of people. I decided to run a Google search to see if it would bring up a street view, but each time I tried, the search engine didn’t recognize the location. Whitehaven was so remote, that there weren't even any news articles available. It’s like it didn’t exist.
"I know . . . I've never been as far as Spain before," I replied. "I've always wanted to go to America. Now my dream is becoming a reality." I clapped my hands with excitement, feeling proud of myself.
My mum was concerned about me traveling alone, which didn't ease my anxiety. As much as I craved my independence, I was nervous about taking this giant leap and it surprised me when my professor mentioned I would be going alone. It would have been nice to have a companion. Joanne was visibly disappointed. Not that she wasn’t happy for me, but because this would be the longest time we would ever spend apart.
"There you are, girls," Dad chimed as he rushed towards us.
My mother was hot on his heels, as were Joanne's parents. They were all bleary-eyed after shedding proud tears of joy during the ceremony.
"Let's get a decent photo of you to commemorate this occasion," Joanne's dad, Gordon, urged.
"Just the girls first, then we'll do one with the mums, then the dads, and then finish with a group photo," Gordon directed, organizing things.
I posed beside Joanne, both giving our best smiles before our mothers ambushed us.
After taking lots of photos, Gordon passed around the camera, allowing us all to view our pictures on the digital screen. My smile faltered as I witnessed the unfiltered reality of a bog-standard image.
Where the hell was a Snapchat filter when you needed one?
"This is one of the proudest moments of my life," my dad, Arron, gushed with pride. "The other times were marrying you, Fiona, and of course, when you were born," he said, as he pinched my flushed cheek.
I cringed, baring my teeth.
"Shall we go to The Smoke House for dinner?" I suggested.
That was mine and Joanna's favorite restaurant, and I wanted us to enjoy one last meal together before I leave for the summer. I would be gone for twelve weeks. That would mean three long months of missing everybody. I wasn't going to hold my breath that they would have sufficient WIFI out in the sticks. It would be just my luck to be given a carrier pigeon to send messages back and forth.
"We've never been there, have we, Gordon?" Joanne's mum, Norah asked.
Gordon pressed his lips together as he thought. "Isn't that the one that serves cowboy food?"
"That's the one," Joanne replied, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Dad. Cowboy food." She chortled.
"I bet our Izzy will get to experience the real deal over the pond," my dad added, "Real cowboy food." He beamed.
Dad had always wanted to go to America, and experience how cowboys lived. He loved watching old western films and often wondered what it would be like to ride on horseback. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it wasn’t all like that. Whenever he watched an old film on television, he would comment on how his lifelong dream was to sit and eat food that had been cooked on an open bonfire, ride through the wild west, and sleep under the stars. Sorry, Dad but you’re a few decades too late. My grandparent’s equestrian center a half a mile down the road from us didn't quite cut it in comparison. He would have to make do with an electric barbecue, and a walk, trot, and canter around the paddock.
"I will not be hanging around any cowboys, Dad. Where I'm going, there's nothing but forest and mountains for miles," I explained.
Not that the thought of strapping big countrymen wearing slack jeans and not much else didn't seem appealing to me, because it did. A girl could dream, and those were exactly the kind of thoughts I could pack in my spank bank and fantasize about during the twelve-hour flight.
My father's exuberant expression never faltered despite what I told him. "It's still going to be brilliant though, no matter what. It's a fabulous opportunity they have given you," he chirped happily.
"I couldn't agree more," I replied, still relishing the delicious imagery of me riding a ranch-hand called Hank like a bucking bronco. Hank the hunk who was hung like a —
"Earth to Izzy," Mum chuckled, snapping me out of my reverie.
I blushed furiously. I had been single for way too long, and my overactive imagination was reminding me of that.
Dad's upbringing was not as cushy as mine had been. He came from a life of poverty on a council estate in Bradford. Both his parents had died whilst he was little, and he went to live with his aunt. He shared a bedroom with five of his cousins, and each of them survived on one meal a day. Money was tight, and he left school to get a job so he could help his aunt the best he could. It was only after he turned twenty, that he joined the police force, starting from the bottom, then spent years progressing through the ranks to become the Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police.
Mum came from a modest middle-class family in Warwickshire. Her life was a stark contrast to the way Dad lived. She had never experienced poverty and didn't understand how it felt to go hungry. My grandparents always made sure she was happy and never went without. They bred racehorses and enjoyed holidays abroad every year, whereas Dad had never even visited the seaside. Mum studied to become a Pediatric Surgeon and currently worked at Great Ormond Street Hospital in London. Both my parents came from opposite walks of life, yet their paths entwined together somewhere along the way. That's almost poetic if you think about it . . . like fate had brought them together.
My parents were supportive of me. I have always shown an interest in animal biology, so I knew it was my future vocation. The type of career that would enable me to travel the globe and take me to places that I could only read about in reference books. Those were my dreams, and I couldn't help but wonder whether fate had any plans in store for me too.
We arrived at the restaurant and were shown to a large oval table right in front of an open-plan kitchen. We could see the chefs cooking, turning the meat on the grills, and the yellow flames licking the sides of the steaks. The cowboy-themed décor and the aroma from the smokers made it feel as if we were in the real Wild West. After perusing the wooden-backed menu, I decided on the chicken bucket special and a large glass of house red. A twenty-something guy wearing a red plaid shirt and jeans took our orders. We didn’t have to wait too long before he worked his little butt off to bring the food to our table, earning his service charge as he worked those buns.
"Mm, this brisket is to die for," Mum complimented as she tucked into her food.
Norah gave Mum a look which suggested that she was immensely satisfied. "It is. It just melts in your mouth . . . and this barbecue sauce is, mmm, heaven."
I flashed a grin at Joanne who was glowing crimson with shame, embarrassed by the orgasmic noises that our mothers were making as they savored the food.
"I think we should bring our wives here more often, Gordon," Dad joked, looking at his friend with a wide-eyed expression on his face.
Gordon snorted with a nod. "I know. They seem to love the meat, all right."
At that point, Joanne nearly died of humiliation and so did I. Her fork dropped from her fingers and clattered onto the table.
"Izzy, are you coming to spend a penny?" she asked hastily. It was a polite way to ask if I would accompany her to the women's restroom.
I followed her as she weaved past the tables filled with happy diners. The moment that we were out of earshot, she rounded on me.
"Why are they like this? We can't bloody take them anywhere," she whined in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.
"They're having fun. It's cute. My parents work all the hours that God sends. It makes a change, seeing them spend time together like this," I replied with a shrug.
Joanne chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering. "Yeah, but they don't give a shit what they say and who hears them," she huffed with a half-laugh. “What am I going to do without you? I’ll be all alone, wallowing in second-hand embarrassment.”
Joanne was easy to embarrass; it didn't take much. Just the mention of sex was enough to turn her a deep shade of red. I wasn't a prude by any means, but I kept my saucy thoughts to myself. I locked those in a vault in the back of my brain, never to be brought out into the open.
After a brief moment of respite, we returned to the table to finish our meals. The conversation flowed smoothly, and the alcohol lifted my spirits. Now wasn’t the time to get all sentimental about leaving my family and friends behind. I was looking forward to whatever the future had in store for me.
Once the evening ended, we said our farewells. Three months would be over in a flash. I would be back before they know it. My only concern was the lack of service my mobile phone was likely to receive high in the mountain range. It would make calling and texting difficult. But that was a problem I would have to face another day. Tonight, I was planning to dream about Hank and his extra-large plank.
