Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet

by Lilliana Anderson

  Light fills my room when the door opens and Mummy comes in. She’ll save me. “What is it, baby? Did you have a nightmare?” She smoothes my hair back and kisses my head as she scoops me up in her arms and rocks me.

  It’s nice here. I don’t get to cuddle Mummy a lot. Daddy gets cranky, and he doesn’t want to cuddle me anymore either. I must have been bad.

  “It’s OK. Just a bad dream. You’ll go back to sleep and everything will be fine.”

  I press myself to her chest, listening to the vibration of her voice. It was just a dream.

  “What are you doing in here?” Daddy is cranky again. That means my cuddle is going to end.

  I hold Mummy tighter.

  “She had a nightmare, Oliver.”

  Don’t let me go, Mummy.

  “You need to stop coddling her. You have two other children who need you more than that bastard does.”

  I don’t know what a bastard is. But he calls me that a lot. Once when we were driving in the car, Daddy tooted his horn and yelled, ‘fucking bastard,’ at a man in another car. I’m not allowed to say those words. They’re bad words. That’s how I know I must be bad. He keeps calling me a bad word.

  Mummy presses her hands over my ears and says stuff to Daddy. It’s all muffly so I don’t know what they’re saying. It feels unhappy.

  Then Daddy walks away, and she lets go of my ears then puts me back in bed. “It’s time to go back to sleep.”

  “OK, Mummy.”

  She kisses my forehead and leaves my room. But I don’t go to sleep. The yelling keeps me awake. I think it’s about me and how bad I am. They fight about me a lot. I don’t think Daddy likes me anymore. It makes me sad.

  One

  Paige: 15 years old

  “I’d better go home,” I say, standing from the side of the pool. I’ve been hanging out at my friend, Ramona’s house with her and two others. She has this big heated pool we all love sitting by and dangling our feet into while we talk about the boys we like to look at, girls who annoy us, and parents who just don’t understand.

  “Don’t go. It’s not even five yet,” Jess says. She cocks her head to look up at me and shields her blue eyes against the sun. Her straight, shoulder-length blonde hair falls to the side as she regards me. “Surely your curfew isn’t this early.”

  “It’s now 5:30 on a Sunday, and 9:30 on Friday and Saturday. The rest of the time, I'm not even allowed out. If I’m a minute late, I’ll be grounded. You know how strict my parents are,” I remind her, feeling like the only teenager in the Shire who isn’t allowed to have a life.

  “You’re fifteen. I say just go home when you’re ready. It’s not like they can do anything horrible to you right?” Ramona says from beside Jess. “What’s grounding? They say you can’t go anywhere, and you sneak out anyway. I wouldn’t let them push me around if I was you.”

  Easier said than done. If I dared disobey my parents, I’d be screamed at for hours. My mother has this habit of rephrasing herself a thousand different ways. It amazes me how many times she can say I'm a fuck up and a disappointment without saying the same words twice. She's a walking thesaurus.

  “Guys get off her back,” my best friend, Maddison puts in. “Neither of you has heard the way her mother goes off when she does something wrong.” Maddison was on the phone with me once when my mum started in on me. I don’t really think she fully believed how nasty she could get before that point, but she does now.

  “But her brother stays out as long as he likes. He’s always at parties and things. Why is it so different for Paige?” Jess asks.

  I really don’t want to answer probing questions about the double standards in my house. So, I let out a sigh and check my watch. “It’s just the way it is.” I thumb over my shoulder towards the gate. “I need to go, OK?”

  Maddison pushes up on her hands, sliding back from the pool. “I think I might head off too. I’m pretty sure I have some homework left to do before tomorrow.” She shakes the water off her feet and stuffs them into her flip-flops. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “Homework, schomework! You guys are no fun,” Ramona complains as we call out goodbye.

  “Don’t worry about those girls,” Maddison says when we hit the footpath. “You do what you need to do. I don’t want to get you in trouble. It sucked when you were grounded last time.”

  “Thanks Mads,” I tell her, giving her a quick hug before heading in the opposite direction towards home.

  When I'm grounded, it doesn’t just suck because I’m not allowed out. It sucks because I’m given a list of chores a mile long, and if they aren’t done to Mum’s satisfaction, they need to be done all over again. Im not allowed to sleep until they’re all complete.

  I remember a time when Mum would be kind to me. When Dad wasn’t around, she’d sit and tell me stories while she detangled my dark curly hair. My favourite was the one about a princess from a faraway land. She lived with an ogre who hated the sight of her because when he looked at her, it burned his eyes. The girl had to hide in shadows and be very, very quiet to avoid his wrath. It went on to have a happy ending where the Ogre fell asleep and she escaped to her family, but I loved to pretend my dad was the ogre and I was the princess. That all ended when he caught me hiding under the table once and I yelled, “Away with you, ogre!” I had to brush my own hair after that.

  Just before I reach my driveway, I check the time, breathing a sigh of relief when I see I made it home by 5:20. Ten minutes to spare. Thank God. No grounding for me today.

  With a slight bounce to my step, I head for the front door, wondering what I’m cooking everyone for dinner tonight. But something on the pathway stops me dead in my tracks as an uncomfortable awareness skitters through my veins. What is that doing there?

  My eyes drift over the house. Everything seems so quiet. Too quiet. Where is everyone? With careful steps, I move towards the black gym bag. I recognise it as the bag I took to camp in year six. It’s lived on the bottom of my wardrobe ever since. Now it's here, and it’s full. And there's an envelope on top of it. An envelope with my name written on it.

  Frowning, I reach out and take it. Dread sitting heavy in my stomach as I stare at it. I’m afraid of what’s inside.

  As my heart beats faster and my breathing quickens, I force myself to turn the envelope over. Sliding my thumb into the small gap, I tear along the top and slip the contents into my hand. It’s cash wrapped in a piece of paper.

  My hands shake as I pull the paper away from the cash and read the single line of handwriting. “What?” My eyes burn, and my throat tightens. I can barely stand.

  What the hell is going on?

  Two

  This isn’t your home anymore. That’s it. One measly line. This isn’t your home anymore.

  I can't keep my hands from shaking as I count out the money. Four notes: two hundred dollars. Is this some kind of joke?

  Shaking my head, I pull my house keys from my pocket. This can’t be real. I slip as I attempt to insert my key in the lock. I blame it on my quivering and clumsy fingers. But after several attempts, it’s still not working.

  “Just slide in.” I press my head against the wood and cry, jabbing my key futilely at the lock.

  Blowing out a steady breath, I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt. The key doesn’t fit anymore.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” I sob. “Mum? Dad?” I knock on the door and hit the doorbell, trying to stay calm.

  Footfalls sound from within the house, flooding my body with relief when they stop on the other side. It’s OK. It’s just a prank.

  “Hello?” The door doesn’t open. “Adam? Is that you?" There’s a shuffle and I can hear breathing. “Why won't you let me inside? Sophie?”

  When there’s no further movement, I pound my fists against the door. “I know you’re here,” I yell. “Open the door! This isn’t funny.”

  I thump harder, screaming and kicking at the door, demanding to be let in. But I don’t get a single response. No
one even peeks out the curtains. Are they seriously kicking me out?

  Stepping back from the house, I look up to the second story. I can’t see anyone.

  “Mum. Dad,” I scream. “Don’t do this. Please! I’m sorry, OK? Whatever I did, I’m sorry!” I slide my hands up the side of my head and clutch at my temples. My stomach twists. “I don’t even know what I did.” I mumble to myself, trying to sift through my interactions with them over the last few days. I did all my chores, my homework; I didn’t leave my room unless I had to… There must be a reason for this.

  “What did I do?” I screech.

  Nothing. No response. No sound.

  I'm alone.

  Dropping on the ground, my shoulders shake along with the huge sobs that tear from my throat. After years of being the black sheep of the family, of bending and breaking and taking every piece of shit slung my way, I’ve been tossed out on my arse. Why do they hate me so much?

  Why is the damn sun shining? My life is falling apart, and the weather is perfect. It should be raining.

  This isn’t happening. Surely, this isn’t happening.

  Reaching inside my bag, I pull out my phone and unlock the cracked screen. It belonged to my older brother, Adam originally. But some kid knocked it out of his hand at school and the screen shattered. They were going to throw it out until I asked if it could be mine. I had to take on extra chores to pay for it. And its really hard to see the screen sometimes. But it’s better than no phone at all. At least I have it now so I can call the home number and beg them to let me in. I don’t want to live on the streets.

  “You’ve reached the Larsen residence. We can’t come to the phone right now. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message at the tone.” Beep.

  “It’s Paige. I’m outside. Please let me in. I promise to never even go out with my friends again. Please. Don’t kick me out. I have nowhere to go… Mum? Dad? Please pick up. Please!” I wipe at my cheeks. “Adam? Sophie? Someone? Let me in, don’t do this to me.” As the machine clicks over to the engaged signal, I drop my phone on the grass and rest my face in my hands.

  “OK,” I whisper in a moment of calm. “Try their mobiles.”

  I start with Sophie. She’s younger than me and always has her phone in her pocket. She won’t wear an outfit unless it has a slot for her phone. Surely she’ll answer.

  Engaged signal.

  I try Adam. He seems to hate me as much as Dad does, but he might answer just to tell me that.

  Engaged signal.

  Mum and Dad are the same.

  They blocked my number?

  I look at the money, scrunched up and sweaty in my palm. What am I supposed to do with this? How am I supposed to live?

  “This isn’t right.” I sit on the front lawn crying for… I don’t know how long. But eventually, I run out of tears and drag myself to my feet, walking over to the gym bag.

  As I read over the note again, the words: This isn’t your home anymore, work like tiny knives in my mind. My life is over.

  “You’re arseholes,” I shriek “You’re all arseholes!”

  Scrunching the note in my hands, I drop it on the ground and pocket the cash while hefting my bag over my shoulder. Then I turn my back to the house, focusing on my breathing so I calm down enough to make another call.

  “Mads,” I say, making my voice as cheery as possible.

  “Didn’t I just see you?” she teases.

  “Yeah, but I forgot my keys. The parentals won’t home be home until late. Do you think I could crash at your place tonight?”

  “Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “I’m already in shit. But Mum doesn’t want to cut their evening short because I messed up. If I can come to you, it’ll be a little less trouble,” I lie. Normally, I tell Maddison everything. She’s been my best friend since kindergarten when someone got paint on my school uniform. I freaked out because I knew I’d be in trouble when I got home. Maddison swapped uniforms with me because her mum wouldn’t care about a little paint. She’s always had my back, but this is beyond her ability to fix. I can’t bring myself to say the truth out loud.

  “Hang on, I’ll check with Mum,” she says. I listen down the line as she calls out to her mother and relays the story. Her mum yells something back then Maddison is back on the line. “Mum says it’s cool.”

  Relief tingles beneath my skin. “Awesome. I’ll see you in twenty minutes,” I tell her, disconnecting the call.

  Sliding my phone back in my bag, I walk over to the garden tap and switch it on to splash cool water over my face. I don’t know why the hell this is happening. But I do know that I can’t show up on Maddison’s doorstep looking like I’ve been crying if I don’t want her asking questions. I just need to act normal, pretend everything is fine. And maybe tomorrow they’ll change their minds.

  Three

  When I arrive at Maddison’s, I hide my bag behind a bush at the side of the house. I can’t really sell my story if I’m packed for an extended stay.

  “Hi, Paige.” Maddison’s mum opens the door. “What's going on with your parents? Aren’t they home?”

  “Ah, no. They had to go out, and I forgot my key. It was really silly of me. I knew they wouldn’t be there, though. I just had a bit of a brain malfunction,” I tell her, my nerves tightening my guts.

  Her eyes search my face as I hold my breath, praying she’ll stop there. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend to be OK. “All right,” she says finally. “Just make sure you give them a call to let them know where you are.”

  “Thanks, Mrs Bier. I’ll do that,” I say, as she moves to the side and grants me entry.

  “Mum. Give her a break.” Maddison emerges from the mouth of the hallways and walks towards me. “She just needs a place to crash so she doesn’t have to wait around in the cold all night.” Grabbing me by the hand, she pulls me down the hall and away from her mother. “Sorry about her. She’s a bit pissy ‘cause I asked for a sleepover on a school night.”

  “It’s cool. I don’t mind,” I say as she clicks the door of her bedroom shut behind us and leans against it.

  “So, what's really going on with your parents?”

  “Nothing, I really did forget my keys,” I assure her.

  Her left eye narrows as she looks at me. “Come on, Pay. I’ve known you since kindergarten. You have a look on your face that tells me that something else is going on.”

  “Mads, I’m fine OK. I’m just tired, and I want to crash. I'll go home in the morning. I won’t be in your hair for too long.”

  “Paige, don’t be like that. If I had my way, we’d be sisters. I’m only trying to talk to you. You seem upset. Did you and your mum have another fight or something?”

  “She doesn’t talk to me long enough to fight these days. Listen, I’m sorry to be such a drag, but I really just want to go to sleep. Is that OK?”

  Her brow narrows as she pushes herself back off the door and nods her head. “I’ll go get you some blankets.” She exits her room then returns with some spare bedding and a camping mattress, which I relieve her of immediately and help her set up my temporary bed.

  “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” she asks, holding the remote for her TV in her hand as she watches me collapse on the bed and fold my arms across my chest.

  “I just want to sleep.”

  “OK.” She flicks on the TV and sits on her own bed while I pretend to sleep. I don’t want to talk. I don't want to re-live any part of this night. I want to sleep and wake up and have this all be some stupid dream.

  “Mum! Dad!” I shout through a crowd of people. They’re blocking my way, and I can’t get through. I dig my elbows into ribs, shoving and pushing people aside. I manage to make it within an arm's length. “Mum!” I reach out to touch her.

  Hearing my voice, she looks over her shoulder and frowns before tapping my father on the shoulder to let him know I’m there.

  “Dad.” I stretch my fingers towards him but there’s
nothing recognisable in his eyes. He looks at me like I’m something you’d pick out of your shoe with a stick.

  “Go away. We don’t want you.”

  I stop walking. My heart clenching, tugging at my throat as the crowd engulfs me, a sea of people moving in different directions. They knock against me and swear because I’m in their way.

  No one wants me.

  I can’t move. I’m stuck, plastered to this spot, watching my parents move farther and farther away. My eyes burn and I can’t breathe. How could they do this to me?

  The heaving of my own sobs wake me up. I sit upright, breathing heavily as I look around the room to get my bearings. Maddison is still sleeping soundly. She’s always been hard to wake up once she was out. Thank God.

  Sitting in the quiet dark, I can’t escape my thoughts. I lie back down with my pillow over my head and let my sorrow wash over me. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t have infinite sleepovers. Where do kids even go when they don’t have homes?

  By 6am, my tears have dried up, and I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. Throwing my covers back, I get up and move over to the desk, writing a note for Maddison that says I'm going home to get ready for school. Its only a partial lie.

  After I slip quietly out of the house, I retrieve my bag from the bushes and really do head home. I figure my parents will still be home at this hour, and I want to try to talk to them. Surely, they can’t be serious. Isn’t it illegal to throw your kid to the streets?

  When I arrive, the lights are all out and it looks like no one is there. I walk around the perimeter of the house and try all the windows. I even try my keys again. When that doesn’t get me inside, I search under mats and pot plants, hunt around the garden for a fake rock or something, hoping to happen upon a key I didn’t know existed. But there’s nothing.

  Eventually, the frustration gets too much for me. I pick up a rock from the garden and throw it through the window. The loud smash of the glass echoes through the quiet of the morning, even louder still is the wailing of the alarm.