It'll be fine

In July 2007, I completed my coursework in Planning and got a job as a consultant on a temporary contract while I finished my final dissertation. After receiving my MSc, I applied for a Fresh Talent: Working in Scotland Scheme visa to stay in the UK for two years as a new graduate. My job was transferred to a permanent contract and I started life as a professional woman. This meant I had to buy a lot of shirts that constantly need ironing.

The transition wasn’t easy. C and I spent almost every night together but it was getting harder to find the space to spend quality time together with my new 9 to 5, Monday to Friday schedule. C had her flat in East Lothian and I was living in a shared flat in Edinburgh, 25 miles apart. We would mostly stay at mine through the week as bus links from her small village to Edinburgh in the morning were pretty unreliable and I didn’t have a car (or a UK driver’s license). Living in a shared flat was fine when I was a student, but it was near impossible to get the privacy we wanted or sleep we needed in a flat full of students. There were many weeknights when we would give up in desperation and drive back to East Lothian at midnight just to get some respite.

I had every weekend off, but C worked at least two weekends a month. When we had time off together we would mostly spend it at hers. She had a gorgeous top floor flat in an 18^th century mansion house in a small, idyllic village. It overlooked a square with a fountain and was only minutes from a beautiful riverside walk, complete with a waterfall. I couldn’t have invented a more beautiful place to stay. The time we spent there was always peaceful and allowed us glimpses of what our life would be like if we lived together. Unfortunately we decided it wasn’t feasible for us to move into hers – mostly because of my work demands in Edinburgh. Instead, we focussed our efforts on preparing C’s flat for sale with a view to renting somewhere in the city together.

In February 2008, C’s mother was unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer. These things are never expected, but she hadn’t been unwell in any way leading up to the diagnosis. C was devastated and devoted all of her spare time and energy ensuring her mum was getting the care she needed, attending hospital appointments, etc. I had never been in a situation like that with anyone before. I was scared and I didn’t know how to support C. I would love to be the kind of person who can find the right words or make the right gesture to offer comfort. Instead, I become hesitant, vacant and completely lacking in any emotional intelligence or thought. The Scots actually have the perfect word to describe this: glaikit.

I had booked at trip back to visit my family over Easter weekend. It was already going to be a short trip but it would mean I could celebrate my birthday while I was there. Unfortunately my flight over from London was delayed by 27 hours so the trip was cut even shorter. I still had my birthday in Illinois, the first in many years, but the journey was exhausting and the whole ordeal left me quite uncharacteristically emotional.

It was such a stressful summer. I was at my wits end with shared living and had moved into a tiny and drafty 1-bedroom flat that I could just afford. C put her flat on the market just as the recession hit. Her mum started chemo. It was hard to see any silver linings amongst all the gray clouds. We kept repeating the mantra “It’ll be fine.” Life had guided us toward each other for a reason and it would guide us through all of this the same way. We just needed to keep strong and, in time, it would all be fine...somehow.

I remember sitting with C in front of two glasses of cool white wine at the shore in Leith after work one afternoon. We were tense, fed up and I don’t think we were even looking at each other. Somehow, through the course of the conversation we both finally expelled all of the fears we had been holding back. Ironically, sharing our fears with each other was the only way we could be strong together. In that moment I learned what it means to be a partner. I had never shared my fears about anything with anyone before, but never once did I feel vulnerable or alone. C was there for me and I was there for her at this impossibly difficult time. Our support for each other is unwavering.

And then the pieces gradually started to fall into place. Despite the housing market crash, C sold her flat (and made a tidy profit) in early July. Her reward was to watch all her belongings driven off to storage and move into my tiny flat with me. She arrived with nothing more than two suitcases and a couple of potted plants. It was certainly very cosy, but we were finally together in our own space. C’s mum successfully made it through her treatment and began the long road to recovery. As a means of exhaling, we did what we do best – we went on holiday!

The two weeks we spent in Florida and Georgia were nothing short of perfection. We cruised around in a sexy Ford Mustang called Sally, taking in downtowns, uptowns and backwaters with complete abandon. It was what all holidays should be – exactly the opposite of our real life. We were in gluttonous America; we did whatever we wanted and faced no obstacles.

At the end of the trip, C flew home to Scotland and I flew home to my Mom’s for a week. It was hard to leave her and I would have loved to bring her back to continue our adventure, especially as it was Homecoming week at IWU. Unfortunately it was still not the right time for her to join me but I had an incredible visit. I was able to spend a lot of time with many of my friends from college and I got to be a part of the ongoing planning programme for my little brother’s upcoming wedding. Amazing.

At the same time, C arrived back to a typical October in Scotland and spent the first night shivering under 5 blankets. She understandably took the decision that we deserved somewhere bigger and warmer...immediately. Cold is a great motivator and in a few short days she had found just the place, which she showed to me two days after I got back. We moved into what is now our home in late October 2008. It suits us perfectly: a modern and airy 2-bed flat, quietly tucked away but still in walking distance to the city centre.

A few months later we decided we could share it with 2 perfectly behaved goldfish named ‘Indiana Jones’ and ‘Spike’. I feel compelled to say the names were chosen by our nephews.

We regularly reflect on the hurdles we had to overcome to secure our home together and we will never take for granted the opportunities that this place affords us, in particular: space to spend quality time together, without forward-planning; respite from the normal stresses of work and city-living; and a venue for hosting friends and family (we’re slowly getting better at this).

On the 31^st December 2008 we rang in the New Year by listening to Edinburgh’s famous fireworks from the warmth of our living room. It had been one hell of an exhausting year and we were eager to see it end. Yet, from where we were sitting it was clear that, somehow, everything was going to be fine. We had gotten through it together and had grown stronger in the process. It was also clear that living together was merely the first step in us pledging our commitment to one another. 2009 was going to be a busy year, with two weddings in the diary...