In A Perfect World

Chapter Ten

"Ouch," I grumbled, my eyes darting up to the reflection in my full-length mirror that I was seated in front of. Feeling another tug of my hair, I leaned into my mother's legs that were hanging over my bed behind me. Brush, brush, brush. Sometimes I truly hated having thick hair; it just never cooperated when I needed it to.

"Mom," I whined in a high-pitched drone, watching her pick up the curling iron from my bedside table. Noticing the light blue bruises trailing up her wrist I blinked my eyes and instead focused on her face. She had a habit of sticking her tongue out slightly when she was concentrating and there I could see it, peeping between her two rose-pink lips. Her eyes, a perfectly mirrored image of my molten chocolate-brown eyes - were narrowed in concentration. She was working so damn hard to perfect my hair that I couldn't help the rush of appreciation that quickly came over me.

"Sit still Viv," she chastised, although a small chuckle came from her throat. "You don't know how to sit still, do you? It's all go, go, go with you. Just relax."

"I am relaxed," I lied, fiddling at the sleeve of my long-sleeved shirt. Hanging from my door was the dress I was supposed to be wearing to this ball; although I've never seen it because Mom's always had it wrapped up in a covered plastic sleeve bag. Apparently it was a 'surprise,' but she knew it would fit me. Feeling the same sense of anxiety prick at my stomach I pulled my eyes away from the bag and back to the mirror. My mother was smiling at me like it was Christmas morning.

"I bet Liam will be excited to see you all dressed up," she commented light-heartedly. A twitch came from my scalp as she pulled away the curling iron, letting the warm piece of curled hair settle with the rest. "He only knows what you look like in a pair of overalls and Chuck Taylors."

"Not true," I found myself saying, smiling softly. "He saw me dressed up when I spent Christmas with his family last year."

We both smiled in fondness over the memory. That holiday season had been particular bad for us, with my father being fired from his job at the office only weeks beforehand. It had sparked a blazing fire of rage during the coldest months for a year, and for nearly a month a cloud of anxiety had been shadowing our house-hold. We couldn't say this in case it upset him, we wouldn't say that in case it upset him. We couldn't move from point A to point B without being afraid that his anger would snap, as if it was a sharp icicle hanging over our heads.

Convinced that he 'needed a break,' – even though he'd been on a break for weeks – my father had packed his bags and left for a 'personal vacation.' Mom visited a friend across the states, Cassie spent a week with her friend, and I lived with Liam during the time. Christmas should have been terrible for me but really, it was my favourite holiday so far. No parents, no little sister, just my best friend and his easy-going family.

"Anyway," I sighed, pulling myself back into reality. Mom settled one final curl onto my head and then reached beside her to open the packet of bobby pins. It rattled softly. As I watched her begin to twist pieces of my curls into what my mother called, "the most beautiful up-do I'd ever seen," a familiar sense of anxiety prickled at the insides of chest.

"Does Mark know about this?" I questioned softly. Mom nearly dropped the pin in shock of my words.

"He's your dad, Viv. Don't call him by his first name."

My insides turned as heart as stone as I said, "He's as much my dad as he is a good man, which means he is not my dad at all."

Mom went to say something, with her lips parting slightly and a vein throbbing in her neck, but she bit it back so sharply that I was surprised it didn't draw blood. Finally, giving one last sigh, her body deflated in defeat. "No," she ended up saying, pushing another bobby pin into my scalp. The up-do was nearly finished.