Page 45 of Malaise

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Page 45 of Malaise

FOURTEEN

Misty rain settleson the windscreen of the Falcon as Carver and I sit without speaking on the roadside. The wipers whirr as they clear the water, the gentle rumble of the engine idling saving us from utter silence.

Who would have thought a simple conversation with your mother could be this difficult? This terrifying?

Who would have thought a mother and daughter could even get to this point?

“I guess I should go get it done.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world if you want to wait a few more minutes.” Carver twists in his seat and reaches across to sweep the hair off my face. “Bit of advice: don’t build it up to be more than what it is. It’s one moment in your whole life, a few minutes in the day. It’s not an unclimbable mountain, or a river that’s too wide to cross. It’s a conversation with your mum, and if it goes bad, then so what? You try again another day.”

Where the fuck did this man come from? He’s the voice of reason when I need it most. Is this your doing, Den?

“You’re right.” I repeat what he said over and over in my mind, steeling my resolve. “It’s the blink of an eye in the grand scheme of things.”

“Look at me.”

I turn and meet his gaze, immediately confident with the conviction in his eyes.

“Keep your cool, and don’t hide how you feel, okay?” He shuffles on the bench seat so he’s close enough to hold my face in both of his hands, the warmth of his palms on my jaw bringing comfort. “I have faith in you. Remember that.”

“Okay.” I nod, my face still in his hold.

His eyes flit between mine, and my lips, before he lets go and slides back across the seat to rest his back on the door. “Go. Sort this out with your mum.”

The drizzle hits my skin in tiny pinpricks as I step out of the car and draw a deep breath. The light rain dampens my hair; Tanya’s clothes that I wear aren’t quite enough to keep the cold from bringing goose bumps to the surface of my flesh. I cross my arms over my chest and walk the short distance to my parents’ house—my so-called home.

As ridiculous as it seems to do so, I knock on the door.

Mum answers within seconds, perfectly coiffed and scarily resembling the woman she was before all this happened. She can’t have come right that fast? One day? “Meg.” She does nothing to hide her surprise.

“Mum.”

“Are you here to get your things? Dad said he left them out in the garage in case we weren’t home.”

Fucking liar. I swallow the vile words I have for my father, and nod toward the house. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” She frowns and backs away, rambling something about the weather as I step into the living room and physically reel at the sight.

The house looks like a damn black market florist. Flower arrangements cover every available surface, a few even placed on the floor beside the sofas.

“Oh, yes.” Mum stands beside me, hands clasped to her chest. “Your father suggested I buy a few for the wake, but I wanted to see the real thing first so I went online to buy a couple to test the supplier out, you know? And well, I had to try them all. They got delivered this morning. Don’t you think it makes the house look lovely? So soothing.”

She’s lost it. Mum has officially hijacked the train to lunacy and disembarked somewhere around instability. “How much did this cost?” Flowers aren’t cheap, especially online, and Dad doesn’t earn that much.

“I don’t think that’s relevant given what they’re for. Do you?” She glides past a lily arrangement and straightens a stem before taking a seat in the armchair. “Did you have a reason for coming inside?”

“Yeah, I do.” But more to the point, should I need one? “I wanted to talk, just you and me.”

“Oh, how lovely.” She positively beams.

I ignore the shiver that ripples down my spine and plaster on a smile of my own. “So… have you and Dad talked much about me moving out?”

“Of course. He pointed out why it’s such a good idea.”

“Really?” How the fuck could kicking your teenage daughter out be a good idea? “And how’s that?”

“Well, you need the space from us—clearly we’re cramping your creativity, or self-expression, whatever it is, and that’s why you push back against us.” She waves her hands about in the air with a sickly sweet smile, as though this topic is just too much fun to bear.




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