herself sinking into darkness, she looked at the bear that she placed in the middle of her bed every day. He had a missing eye and discolored fur, but he felt like a friend to her. A coconspirator in her escape plan. She’d worked out that it should be enough to get her a ticket somewhere. Once she was there she’d find a job. Anything was better than being trapped here in the repetitive, exhausting cycle that was living with her mother.
“That’s good. It’s just that with Ron and I newly married, well—you know—” She nudged Audrey, woman to woman.
Audrey did know. The walls in their house were thin. She probably knew far too much for a person her age.
She noticed that her mother didn’t ask where she was traveling, or with whom. All she cared about was that Audrey wouldn’t be around to intrude on her romantic interlude.
It hurt even though it shouldn’t, but Audrey was used to handling conflicting emotions. And to be honest she was relieved that her mother and Ron were getting married. Ron treated her mother well, and if the wedding went ahead, then Audrey would no longer feel responsible for her.
A whole new life was within reach.
“I’m spending the summer in Paris.” The idea had come to her in a flash the week before. Paris was meant to be beautiful in the summer. The men were hot, the accent was sexy and if they talked crap, as most boys did in her experience, it wouldn’t matter because she wouldn’t understand them anyway. Best of all, she could get away from home.
The first thing she was going to do when she had her own place was put a lock on the door.
Her mother sank onto Audrey’s bed, ignoring the piles of clothes that needed sorting. “Do you speak French?”
“No, which is why I want to live in France.” In fact, it wasn’t, but it was as plausible a reason as any and her mother wasn’t a woman given to examining anything in greater depth. “I need a language.”
“It will be good for you. You need to live a little! At your age—”
“Yeah, I know, you were having the time of your life.”
“No need to use that tone. You’re only young once, Audie.”
Most days she felt about a hundred. “I need to work now. I have a test tomorrow.”
Her mother stood up and wrapped her arms around Audrey. “I love you. I’m proud of you. I probably don’t tell you that enough.”
Audrey sat so stiffly she wondered if a spine could snap. The fumes from her mother’s perfume almost choked her.
Part of her wanted to sink into her mother’s arms and let her take the worry for once, but she knew better than to lower her guard. Within minutes her mother could be screaming at her, throwing things and saying mean words.
Audrey had never understood why mean words sounded louder than kind ones.
“You’re very tense.” Her mother released her. “Would a drink help relax you?”
“No thanks.” She knew her mother wouldn’t be offering a cup of tea.
“I opened a bottle of wine. I could spare you a glass.”
Wine explained the glittering eyes and the brittle mood. It also explained the perfume. “Have you eaten?”
“What? No.” Linda smoothed the dress over her hips. “I don’t want to get fat. What are you studying?”
Audrey blinked.
Her mother had never shown the slightest interest in what Audrey did with her life. At the open evening at school when they’d been invited in to discuss subject choices and university, Audrey had been the only student attending alone. As usual, she’d lied and said her mother was working. It sounded so much better than admitting that her mother couldn’t be bothered and that the only time her father had been present in her life had been during her conception. She lied so much about her life that sometimes she forgot the truth herself.
She cleared her throat. “Organic chemistry.” And she was going to fail. She’d picked sciences so that she could avoid essays and reading, but there was still a ton of reading and writing. After this she was never studying anything ever again.
“I think this fad for everything organic is nonsense.” Her mother checked her reflection in the mirror on Audrey’s desk. “It’s just an excuse for the supermarkets to charge more.”
Audrey sat with slumped shoulders, swamped in misery as she stared at her laptop screen. Go away. Just go away! She sometimes found it hard to believe she and her mother were related. Most days she felt as if she’d been dropped by a stork into the wrong house.
“Mum—”
“You’ve always been a slow learner, Audrey. You just have to accept that. But look on the bright side—you’re pretty, and you have big—” her mother thrust her hands under her breasts to make her point “—get yourself a male boss and they’ll never notice that you can’t spell.”
Audrey imagined the interview.
What do you consider to be your best qualities?
They’re both attached to the front of my chest.
Not in her lifetime.
If a work colleague ever touched her boobs Audrey would break his arm.
“Mum—”
“I’m not saying that college isn’t fun, but everyone gets a degree these days. It’s nothing special. You pay a fortune for something that in the end means nothing. Life experience, that’s what matters.”
Audrey took a breath. “Wear the green dress.”
She was exhausted. She wasn’t sleeping. Her schoolwork was suffering.
Her friend Meena had helped her make a spreadsheet with all her exams on it. Then they’d set alerts on Audrey’s phone, because she was terrified of misreading the spreadsheet and getting her timing wrong. They’d printed out an enlarged version and stuck it on her wall because every since the day her mother had drunk a bottle of whiskey and decided it would be a good idea to throw the computer in the trash, Audrey no longer dared risk storing things on her laptop.
You teenagers spend too long on screens.
On the calendar above her desk were crosses where Audrey marked the end of each day. Each cross took her closer to the day when she could leave school and home.
Her mother was still hovering. “You don’t think Ron would prefer the pink? It shows a little hint of lingerie, and that’s always good.”
“It isn’t good! It looks like you forgot to get dressed! It’s called underwear for a reason. It’s supposed to be worn under clothes.” Bursting with exasperation, Audrey finally glanced away from the screen. Her mother’s hair was wild from pulling dresses on and off. “Wear the dress you prefer. You can’t live your life constantly trying to please another person.” She couldn’t for a moment imagine asking a man what she should
