Reggie & Me (3 page)

Today was the big move. It started off well with the removal van and a team of guys turning up. Mum was getting slightly neurotic about whether they’d be here on time so she was very reassured when they were a whole four minutes early. They must be used to slightly neurotic people though as they were very patient with Mum as she went through a detailed explanation of how important every single box was.

Mum cried as we locked up our house for the final time. I suppose that if it wasn’t for everything that has happened she wouldn’t even have thought about moving. I know that a little part of her would be thinking of Daniel too. I couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was a good thing for both of us. Mum couldn’t spend the rest of her life in this house just on the off chance he might turn up one day. I couldn’t care less if he never turned up. I kept that thought to myself though.

As usual, we had packed up a picnic for our journey. The search for the cheese had created a small panic this morning as Mum thought she’d put all the cold stuff in one place and we can’t go anywhere without a cheese and pickle sandwich. Luckily the crisps, jaffa cakes and Haribo had been spotted, and I can’t say I worried too much when we couldn’t find the apples. We had all of our really special things in the car with us. It was a four-hour journey and as usual, we travelled for about 10 minutes, got on the motorway and then started on the sandwiches. I don’t think we have ever actually left our picnic
alone for more than 20 minutes, regardless of what time of day it is or how far we’re going.

We had about an hour to ourselves in the new house before the removal team arrived. Mum had thought of everything though and magically produced two mugs, teabags and milk from a little cool bag. She’d even remembered to pack a teaspoon. We sat on the floor in our brand-new, empty, beige living room, cuppa in hand and continued tucking in to our picnic.

I had remembered everything about our new house and I immediately felt safe. As it is brand new, on a new housing development it really is just ours. Nobody has ever lived here before and that feels really special. It also means that everything is beige and magnolia. That’s okay though as Mum said we can put our pictures up and make it our own. There’s a rule about not painting the walls for a few months apparently, but there aren’t any rules about posters and pictures!

I just sat there, on the floor of my new room. It was a completely empty space. No furniture, no curtains, not even a lampshade. A brand new start.

My special boxes couldn’t be unpacked until I had something to unpack them into, so I did what any girl in my situation would do and tweeted a picture of my empty room. Nothing is real until it has been tweeted. It is official, I have moved house and I have no idea what to do next.

The peace was soon shattered with the sound of the removal team bringing everything in and trying to get everything in the right rooms. Mum was explaining once again the importance of each and every box. As she was getting more and more high-pitched I just wanted to apologise, but they took it in their stride. If I had a pound for every time she said, ‘Careful, watch the walls,’ I’d be a millionaire. Watching them get the sofas in was quite entertaining. In this new house, our living room is on the middle of three floors, so they had to get the sofa up the stairs and around a very tight corner. I was seriously impressed that
they managed to do it without making even a tiny mark on the magnolia walls; no doubt it was thanks to Mum telling them to be careful.

The picture I had drawn of my room was coming to life. My desk is by the window so that I have natural light and can make the most of the view into the garden. My bed can only really fit along one other wall as I have brand new fitted wardrobes, and then my little stand for my stereo fits perfectly behind the door.

With the stereo set up and P!NK playing at full volume there was only one option. Dance around the room. This was probably the only time I’d be able to see the carpet so I made the most of it.

All the boxes we had packed up were left in the designated rooms under the watchful eye of Mum who only took a break from her supervisory role to make more tea. I admit that I could have been more useful, but when Mum reaches that level of high pitched-ness (is that a word?!), it’s best just to stay out of the way.

My dancing was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door and an unusually smiley mother. Our shopping had been delivered. Seriously! Mum had even done our online shopping in preparation. We found more Jaffa cakes and the fresh milk, made another cuppa and sat looking at the boxes for a little while longer.

So this is me unpacking! I said I’d start on my room. I’ve been sitting here ever since. My desk only has my journal and pencil case on it, and it is amazing how clearly I can think without all the usual piles of paper, books, magazines and unfinished homework around me. No doubt I’ll start off with a tidy desk and a tidy room and within a week it’ll look like a bomb has gone off in here.

Here’s to my new start. I can get my room to look any way I want it to look, and I can do the same with everything else. I thought I’d feel lonely, but I felt lonelier when I was with my ‘friends’ yesterday. There is something quite liberating about
being anonymous and free to just be ‘me‘. I am so much more than what happened to me, and now I have a chance to be the person I am meant to be without also having to challenge people’s perceptions of me as a victim.

But first…I need to unpack.

Waking up in our new house was quite a surreal experience this morning. At first I didn’t know where I was and I felt quite scared. Then it all came flooding back. My old life had gone. I thought about calling one of my friends, but I couldn’t figure out why. We didn’t have much to say when we were together, so I wasn’t sure what we’d say on the phone. If in doubt, tweet. I sent them a tweet saying I missed them and immediately had tweets back saying they missed me too. That was enough to cheer me up, it’s exactly the same thing I would have done if I was back in the old house, which seems a bit silly now. I can’t actually remember the last time I spoke to any of them on the phone. Mum doesn’t start work until I start the new school so we have lots of time to get settled in and find our way around. It’s not long now until Reggie will join us too. That’s currently my only motivation to get the boxes unpacked and everything sorted!

As soon as I thought about getting motivated and doing some unpacking, Mum called me downstairs where I was greeted with a full English breakfast and a cuppa.

Now, I could get used to this.

She said it was to celebrate the start of our first full day in the new house and that I shouldn’t expect it every day. I was just thankful her voice had returned to its usual pitch.

How many females does it take to figure out how to use a dishwasher? Two…plus the power of Google as we had lost the instructions. We didn’t have one in the old house and it was one of the things we were really looking forward to having here…if only we could figure out how to use it!

There are still quite a few boxes to unpack thanks to my ability to do everything except empty them, so I was quite pleased when Mum asked if I wanted to go and explore the town. She said it would be better for us both than having a quiet
day at home. She also pointed out that we may not be able to have days out in the same way we used to when Reggie arrives, so we should make the most of it now. That’s true I suppose. Although I still can’t wait to go and collect him.

After I was raped, it was the quiet times that I found the hardest. I think Mum still worries about me having too much alone time as sometimes my head can wander back to the dark times. It’s not that I need to distract myself all the time or that I feel like I need to be busy in order to cope, it’s just that when I spend long periods of time on my own without anything to do I can struggle to focus on good things. When my mind wanders like that I sometimes find myself thinking about what happened and then the old horrible feeling of fear come flooding back. The word ‘fear’ is used a lot, but that really doesn’t even begin to cover it. Complete and utter terror doesn’t really explain how it feels either. A part of me just gets deflated, all of a sudden I feel like any control I thought I had has disappeared, and I don’t trust myself even to make a simple decision like what to wear or whether to have Hula Hoops or Skips to eat. I guess that sounds a bit ridiculous, always Hula Hoops right?! It just isn’t that simple when I slip back into the dark times. I just don’t see the point of anything and even though it sounds a bit dramatic, I genuinely don’t care if I just stay in bed all day. When I feel like that I don’t care that I’m on my own as who would want to be friends with me anyway? It’s more than just not caring, it’s like the part of my brain that makes me, me, has been punctured like an old bike tyre. No matter how much nice-ness people try to pump into it, there’s nothing happening. It’s only me who can fix it, stick a magic patch over it and pump it full of my own nice-ness. I love that new word. It can take a while to get myself back from there and it could be so easy just to get under the duvet and not make the effort to do anything. I remember those days though; I spent a fair few days under the duvet. We can safely say that they were not happy days. They weren’t supposed to be
happy days. As everyone kept telling me, ‘It’ll take time for you to recover’ and ‘You need to deal with this in your own way so that you can recover.’ Nobody could tell me when I would ‘recover’ though and what ‘recovery’ would actually look like. So, for me, recovery is an inner tube! I’ll probably keep that one to myself as Jane would no doubt have a few things to say about it.

When I broke my wrist a couple of years ago I remember people making similar comments to me about needing to take time to recover, only they came with timescales and tangible things that I could look out for to tell me that I was recovering. When I had the plaster off I honestly thought I would never be able to move my wrist again. I was scared and it really hurt! Yet, just as the doctor and the physio said, it was better within six months. I did as I was told, did my exercises and now I have a fully functioning wrist again. I do wish the same thing could happen this time. There isn’t a programme to follow, a simple tried and tested formula to lead me to recovery, and there’s nobody to tell me what it would look like when I got there.

Those duvet days were horrible though. While it does take more effort to get up, get dressed and start the day, it feels a million times better than just lying in bed thinking. It was when I started getting up and dressed again that I realised too much thinking time wasn’t good for me! Even the process of deciding what to wear and how to do my hair, helped me to just start thinking about other things again. That’s a little rule I have for myself now. Even if I have no plans for the day, I get up, have a shower and get dressed. By the time I’m ready I have often thought of something to do, even if it’s just read a book or watch a film. I wouldn’t have chosen to do that while I was just lying under the duvet.

So days like today really help me.

A day in town, having lunch out and spending half an hour trying to remember where we’d parked the car are a million
times better than the duvet alternative. Before I was raped I would probably have hated the idea of a day out with Mum. It’s not that we don’t get on; it’s just that I would have found ‘better’ things to do. Now, I am so grateful to be alive and have the chance to enjoy days like this that I try and seize the opportunity. I also can’t afford to buy myself lunch out and don’t have anyone else to go with, but that’s not the point. It feels good to have laughed, to have had some fresh air and to have started our new life here with a good day.

I’ve been here four days now and only have two boxes left to unpack. That’s pretty good going for me considering there was a grand total of 17 in my room to start with. I have promised that I’ll unpack them today though, as tomorrow is the day that we go and collect Reggie. The agreement was that the house would be completely ready before he arrived. Considering Mum has managed to unpack and sort out the entire house in less time than it has taken me to unpack my room, it’s only fair that I stick to my end of the deal.

I got Reggie’s little space ready yesterday. I say ‘little‘, his bed takes up more space than mine. He’ll be sleeping in the kitchen and that’s where we’ve created his space. We have the new water and food bowls ready which say ‘DOG’ on them just to avoid any confusion. His giant silver bed has a single duvet in it, and we found a cover that had paw prints on it along with a matching blanket. Mum decided that it would be softer and more comfortable for him than traditional dog beds that also seem to be about four times the price. I tried it out and it is actually very comfy! We’ve got a toy box for him too as one thing we are not short of is boxes. I have even written ‘Reggie’s Toys’ along the side and added a paw print just to prove that I really do find anything more interesting than unpacking.

I’ve had a couple of messages and a few tweets from my friends but nothing too inspiring. It seems absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder! I haven’t really thought about them too much. I don’t want to make them feel awkward by constantly wanting to be in touch. I don’t really have anything new to say to them and I know they won’t care it is Reggie-Eve. It’s tough when they’re talking about starting Year 11 and all the things they have going on. I won’t be a part of any of it and I’m not sure I really want to hear about it. The new school has given
me some work to do as they were freaking out about the fact my old school used different exam boards. I couldn’t get too excited about it as surely Maths is Maths and it’s hardly like History will have changed that much! I don’t want to turn up on day one without a clue though so I’ve been keeping myself occupied with the work. I know for a fact that my old friends won’t want to talk about catching up on Maths homework and I don’t blame them. I also know that if I spend all day tweeting and don’t get the work done now there’s very little chance that I’ll be choosing to do it once Reggie arrives!