06 : open doors

VALERIE HAVE TO TIE ME UP TO THE FRIDGE IF SHE WANTS ME TO STAY IN THE HOUSE WHEN MOM COMES. Or at the very least, bribe me. The blunt disrespect is the fact that she does neither of those, but threaten me if I disappear into the night this time.

Whenever mom comes home, I try my best to stay out of the house and make her mad. She is a lot of things, but most importantly, she gets angry too easily. Dropping a spoon will get her shouting how much work she does for us yet we could not do the simplest things to help her in her daily routine. That is one of the most brightest memories of her with me in eighth grade. Tears kept streaming down her face which turned into an hour-long breakdown in front of the child that cannot even handle their own breakdowns. Valerie stepped in and took mom to her room, giving me ten bucks and asking me to have my lunch on my own. With the neighbourhood's songs playing in my ears, I felt loneliness the first time when the barista gave me a free mango smoothie when he saw tears forming in my eyes. Before that incident, I never felt that wrong and I never cried in the middle of a busy fast food corner. Not even after all the bullying, I had to go through.

A few weeks after, mom said that she got a job six towns away and would have to stay there. I was more than happy to hear that we had to move from the shitty ass school and even shittier people. I was beaming in happiness, sunlight danced on my fingertips. But Valerie started crying at the end of the moment, as an angsty teen she protested to move when her entire life was in this city. She worked so hard to make it to the lacrosse team and science club. She had both a game and a science fair in a few weeks following everything a senior does. Mom asked her if she can take care of herself, and even though Valerie was always independent. I asked mom to take me with her, but she refused and asked a seventh-grader to be with my older sister. Mom was living in a one-room kitchen apartment, to begin with, and she assured me that I would not like it.

Mom would visit us every week weekend, but it reduced to fortnights and they cut off to rarely seeing her. Even do often she would call, but I felt the line blurring between her and dad.

Valerie sighs, "I called your school and informed them that you will be absent today due to personal issues." I almost drop the cereal box from my hand.

"Excuse me? You cannot do that. I have to get my education."

"Oh shut up, Avery. You go to school for the drama that obviously lacks in your life. Help me clean this entire place and cook something nice for mom."

"I am not having dinner with mom. You can do nothing to hold me here."

She gets the message and raises her eyebrow, "You want me to bribe you?"

"No, a bribe can hold me at the place." Please let me throw a party. Please let me throw a party. Please let me throw a party.

Valerie rests her elbows on the chair, and I know I am fucked, "You know what, I am done with bribes. If you don't help me and have dinner with mom, I will take your fake id which you use to buy alcohol and tell mom about the guy you are hooking up with."

"I am not hooking up with Kamil, god. We just made out once."

"The fake id?"

"I don't have a fake id."

"Study desk, a third drawer from the bottom between call me by your name and a bisexual erotica book. And boy, I did not believe you would read erotica."

This time I do drop the cereal box. My blood travelling up my neck and cheeks, "What the fuck? You went through my stuff?"

"I would not have to if you would have just told me where you hide my mascara—"

"Why do you even want it? To make impress Sia—"

"Shut up, Avery. The point is that I know everything you don't think I do, and it will be better for you if just sat and ate your dinner with mom. I will handle the rest." She gains her perfect position again while removing her hand from the chair. I can see the effort she puts in. Her curly hair was tied with a black band, a pastel purple cardigan on her body with white spotless pants. After so long she is wearing light makeup and has combed her hair as good as could. I forgot what even Valerie looks like in a party dress, without those eye bags and tired smile. She looks like a mother, and to me, she is one.

At eight in the night, the bell on the door rings loudly and Valerie jumps in anticipation or fear. I cannot tell which one, but my mood has already started drowning. She rushes to the door and I follow her. One last look while mouthing "Please be nice". I nod to assure her, she opens the door to find mom smiling back at her with her pearly white shinning. She pulls her daughter into a hug, and there are lines on mom's forehead. She looks older than last time, tired.

Valerie is glowing when she draws back and mom hugs me slightly, her hands holding me like I am the fragile stranger who she doesn't know anymore. So close, I realise Valerie is now the splitting emoji of her mother. Mom kisses Valerie's forehead, "How are you! My child, your look so tired. Have you been eating healthy?"

"I am trying to!" And there everything goes. Mom engages in her conversation with Valerie, and I am happy that they are bonding. More than happy, because Val loves mom and she deserves to spend time with her. But somewhere I feel kicked out of the conversation when they start to talk about college and work.

I want to dissolve in the floor. I feel thirteen again, crying in the McDonald's. In front of Valerie and mom, I feel like an atom, trying to stabilise myself.

God, I need to get out of here.

But the minute I am about to climb the stairs and disappear into my room. Valerie calls out my name, ordering me to place the table mats because we are having dinner early. Great. With a lump in my throat, I do all the things she asks me to. I keep mom's luggage in her mom, I serve mom the curry Val made, I force the food down my throat with the feeling of breaking down any minute. Call me overdramatic, but there is a familiar voice calling me vile words.

"Why are you eating so slow, Avery? What happened?" Mom points at my plate with her fork.

I shake my head.

"How is school going on?"

"Fine."

"I heard you got into a fight earlier this week?"

My eyes snap to Valerie and back to mom, "No."

"But the school called me."

"They did?"

"Yeah, and why are you giving me such dull responses? What happened at school?"

"Nothing."

"They told me you got into a verbal fight with Kamil Qureshi. I told you to not get into fights, what would have happened if they would have cancelled your marks? Or lower your GPA—"

"They cannot do that."

"They can write a remark. Why do even have to fight with someone—"

"He started it."

"So? Ignore him. Complain it to the teacher—"

"Be a snitch?" Valerie squeezes my hand below the table, of course, she does.

"Stop cutting me, Avery. What I am saying is that if you don't want to inform your teacher then you should ignore it. Don't be a delinquent—"

"Excuse me. Are you calling me a delinquent for standing up for myself?"

"Don't put words in my mouth. And Valerie showed me your grades, you need to drop lacrosse for a while and start paying more attention in studies," She turns to Valerie, "Teach your sis—"

"Brother."

"—brother something. If his grades don't improve then I will have to take your baby brother with me—"

That's it, that's the end of me putting my mouth shut. The lump in my throat converts into a molten ball of rage. "And do what? Make me your daughter?"

"That is not what I meant."

"I would rather be like dad any day than like you."

Valerie squeezes my hand even more, "Avery—"

"No, stop. I do not want to be like mom at all, and that's the truth. You became like her and that's okay. You are better than mom, but I don't want to walk on the same path as she did. At least, I don't want to give my children false hope of staying."

I can read Valerie's face and it says that she is blaming herself for forcing me to stay. Good. Mom's face is mortified, "What are you saying?"

"I know what I am saying. Dad left and he made it clear that he doesn't give you a shit about us. But you giving us false hope is just worst."

"When have I ever been not there for you?" She realises what she said the minute those words leave her mouth.

"Are you literally asking me that question? Lacrosse games, homecoming, my first heartbreak, my first girlfriend, all those trophies in my room for sports. All the time that I wanted you to be there, you were never there. And not since you left, you were never really there for me. Before and after the divorce."

"Avery, honey—"

"You know what? Valerie was more of a mom than you ever were. Holding me when I was afraid, she was there for me all the time when I wanted you to be. It's such a fucking joke." And god fuck, tears threaten to spill out of my eyes, but I hold it back unlike mom. Her dinner is going to be saltier than ours. A part of me hates to make my mom cry, a part of me loves to see her hurt. So I continue to stab her, "I did not even want to be here, I had no desire to see you and share a dinner but Valerie threatened me to act civil. I am out of here."

I have so much to say, at the same time I have nothing to say. My hands drop the spoon in loud noise and I can hear dad's voice in my head, "Don't pour your anger into food." Dad's image in my head is so blue that I can barely remember his bone structure, his eyes, lips, nose. I imagine him looking like older me with wrinkles and a distant look in his eyes. I remember him being so disturbed that he would not even play with me, he would not watch tv with me tucked under both his arms. Mom would be out of the house all day, dad would be cuddled in his own room, locking me out of that place. I want to remember better things, I don't want to remember this.

I grab the keys of my bike and shot a text to Riley asking him if it is too late to join the party. He sends me a voice recording, yelling into the microphone with loud bass playing in the background that I am always welcome. It is going to be an interesting way to end my night.

—

ASHLEY'S HAND GRIP MY WAIST AS WE BOTH JUMP ON THE BEAT. A little bit of alcohol in our system, makes us forget the fact that I ever threw up on her. It was three months back and my first time messing around with alcohol. Of course, I threw up on somebody. But to be honest, Ashley is a great dancer and better of a flirt. Her personality feels better than mine, and I enjoy basking her energy. I had a few drinks and so did she, and it's been a while since we have been dancing. Wet hair sticks to my clothes and her short red hairs are all over her face. It feels pretty nice when her hands travel up and down my side. She leans closer and leaves a whisper of her lips on the side of my neck. I would not mind even if she would take a bite but she draws away to read my face.

And that's where the montage begins, with her lips on mine. She tastes like watermelon lipgloss and alcohol which might be the way I taste too. Her hands leave my hair, as they begin to sneak their way into my shirt. Her hands are so cold that they make me shudder and she bites my lower lip when she feels it. I am wearing a white classy shirt tucked into pair of wide-legged trousers that makes me look like country rockstars but who cares. The tuck came off during the dance. She wears a little black dress with a low cut chest. I let my fingers linger on her collarbone which seems to do the trick when her actions slow down enjoying me.

Okay, so this is not exactly a montage. Because I am enjoying my time.

Her tongue traces mine while her hands— which have now left my shirt half-open— are unlocking the door to a bedroom because our making out is getting a little R rated. Ashley kisses me to forget something, hard and raw. My mouth feels numb and I have no idea what is going on except the fact that she pushes me into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind her. I don't mind when she unbuttons my shirt and throws it across the room. Her vanilla perfume is all I can smell. The alcohol triggers something in my brain and I can feel it going in all directions.

She draws away with swollen lips and siren eyes, "I will be back." My lipstick is over her neck and I nod unable to do think of anything. Just like that, she leaves me alone in the room and my body falls on the bed. I can barely see anything due to the lack of lighting. The huge watch on the corner of the room has neon hands and it is about eleven something in the night. I stare at them, and then it feels like an hour since I have been in the room.

When the clock struck twelve, I know Ashley is not coming back. What happened to her? I try to stand up, my black hair on my face. My mind— it feels like I am about to faint when I move a step forward. My shirt is on the ground which I am about to pick up but my mind lurches forward with my legs about to throw themselves on the ground. Blood rushes to my ears turning red. And on point, the door lurches open feeling the room with light. Loud noises of footsteps and a certain pair of dirty vans.

Kamil shakes his head in disappointment handing me my shirt, "You love trouble, don't you?" How does he know?

—