“Dear, do you want to have a sleepover at Katie’s?” would sound like a dream come true, but for Allie it was a definition of a disaster. She collected every piece of courage a 13-year-old girl could have, and answered, her voice as soft as she could make it right now with tears forming at the back of her throat:
- No, mom. I will stay home, - her eyes looking at the already cold bowl of soup in front of her.. - Now, one more spoon, please.
Allie couldn’t remember, when life became that difficult. She wished she did, so that one day, when time turners are as common as laptops, she could jump back to that second and stop it somehow, scream at her mom, fight her, tell her that she wanted that childhood, that she wanted her freedom back. But technology was nowhere that progressive, so all she could do is sit there for hours with the closest person, and watch as life goes away from her with every piece of food going down the trash bin.
In her young mind, a lot of things were easy - bullying at school could be ignored, her best friend getting beaten for having dark skin could be managed by adults, this little crush on an artsy boy from biology class is weird, but not unmanageable. She got the best grades in literature and science, was not as good at sports and math, but her mom had never got a call from a principal about her daughter failing a class or getting into a fight. Sometimes, Allie wished she had. In that situation, her mom would come to the principal, and miss Evans would say “Gosh, Lidia, you are so thin! I can see your bones through that shirt. Would you like a biscuit? No? You don’t eat them? Well, maybe you should check in with your doctor, Lidia, because you don’t look so good! Oh, and your daughter failed her class, but we have already discussed that with her on our class presidents meeting, don’t worry, what i think you should worry is your body, gosh!” Yeah. That what miss Evans would say. Still, knowing her mother, it probably would not help. She would say something like “Thanks, miss Evans, my daughter is the laziest person ever, and i hate her, so I will not see any doctors, I am perfectly fine.”
Perfectly fine.
She has heard this word a million times. When dad left, that all her mom was saying, every day, to every neighbour who came in and gave her pie and asked if she was alright.
When grandma died, and grandpa was drinking himself to sleep on a guest couch.
When mom’s first plate went to the dumpster unfinished, chicken sliced to the tiniest pieces known to man.
Allie tear away a piece of a toast and crushed it with her teeth. Mom looked at her, put the spoon to her lips, and started speaking about work and how Claire from trade was has such an attitude. It was the fifth time she’ve done that in last ten minutes. Allie counted.
- Mom, - she started again, voice cold and quite, - Please, one more.
Her mom smiled and looked at her with love in her eyes.
- My dearest Allie, always trying to help me, - she stood up from the table and walked to hug her daughter. - My love, my sunshine. What do you say we go to the Disneyland this weekend? I just got a raise! We could go to that ride you love!
- Mom. - Allie stuttered, like a broken record, - Mom, sit down.
- I will go and call Claire, and I will tell her, even with…
- Please, please, sit down.
- …attitude she could work my sift this Sunday, you know? I helped her, so she should do the same! Ok, honey, - she put a small kiss into Allie’s hair. - I will be upstairs if you need anything!
Tears came as soon as she heard the door upstairs shut. Allie tried to stop, sniffing, mumbling “okay-okay-okay” as a prayer, and walked to the sink, where she put her empty bowl, and her mothers plate, still full to the brim. Well, even you can’t hear yourself crying, while the water is washing away every clump of fat from the dishes.
Allie wondered whether this is what they meant in those teenage books with “You relationship with your parents might get hard, and it is OK!” She put some dough out of the freezer, for the dinner. Maybe, if she makes something mom loves, like, cherry pie, she will eat a bite. One, just one bite. (It has never worked before, but how could you stop trying). She wished she could be braver. Talk to her mom, confront her, scream from the top of her lungs: I am a child! This is not fair. You are killing yourself, and all I can do is sit there and pretend everything is OK when I go to school, and clean every room of this house that is too big for us, and try, and try, and try, and fail again!”
While she was closing the fridge door, one of the magnets fell off. Allie picked it, cold metal in her hands, and tried to think whether crying again is a good idea. It was a small thing - a photo of her and mom on a ride, same one she mentioned today. Joy in their eyes, wide smiles, and small pieces of cotton candy in their hair, that got there twenty minutes before that, while they had been walking at the park and eating and laughing. Allie remembers that day tasting like strawberry ice-cream and puff pastry and her mom saying “We can get one more pizza slice!” She smiled unconsciously, and put the magnet back, looking at it once again. How could a couple of years changes everything so dramatically? There, they are drinking soda and eating hotdogs for lunch, and now most of their food in a fridge is rotten. Allie thought about how in movies they put their fingers on the photographs and remember feeling good. She tried to do so. It didn’t help - actually, that had the opposite effect.
Somehow, she got angry. At herself, at every person working with her mom and not saying a thing, at her dad, at her teachers, who didn’t try to understand a thing and thought that if she was great at test she never had issues. Allie looked back at the picture, and tried to find strength is her younger self. “I need to do something” - she whispered. The picture was silent (of course, it’s a picture), but Allie could swear that her younger version looked her directly in the eyes with a supportive glance.
Allie turned around and took her phone. Now, all she needed is to find a number.
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