Charade

Benji

Sunlight filtered through Vic's dark ironed curtains, warming the floorboards and creeping up to the couch. I rolled over and let out a groan. It was too early to get up, but I knew I wasn't going back to sleep. I managed to get to my feet and stumble into the kitchen.

Vic's apartment was open-planned, with the kitchen on the right as you walked in. It was separated from the living room by only the kitchen table and counter. The balcony was situated behind the table. On the right, in front of the living room, was the hallway leading down to the bedrooms, bathroom, and laundry.

My clumsy fingers flicked the kettle on. A door down the hallway opened and footsteps echoed in as Vic stepped into the lounge room.

"Kettle's boiling," I said, dumping three sugars into a coffee mug.

Vic came up beside me and I looked at him, only it wasn't Vic, it was Lily.

"Oh," I said. "Sorry, I thought you were Vic."

She glanced at me sideways as she reached over and stole my cup of coffee and sugar.

"That-that was mine but you can have it." I offered lamely.

Lily didn't say a word as she tipped up the kettle and poured the hot water into the mug. Then, wordlessly, she turned away from me, taking my cup of coffee with her.

"You don't want any milk with that?" I asked, turning around.

Lily completely ignored me as she headed back for the hallway, knocking shoulders with Vic as she passed. Vic rubbed his eyes, standing there in a black shirt and long pyjama bottoms, and watched Lily storm back up to her room.

"That's your coffee, isn't it?" He asked after Lily's door shut.

"Was." I said, pulling another mug out of the cupboard.

"I'm sorry," Vic said, coming up beside me. "I'll talk to her. See if I can't get her to come around."

"Don't worry about it. She'll warm up to me eventually."

"Don't be so sure on that," he chuckled. "She's not a big fan of people."

"I'll probably be in juvie soon, anyway. Won't matter once I'm there."

"You won't go to juvie," Vic said, pouring hot water into his mug. "Your father won't allow it."

"My father?" I asked.

"Yes. He's defending you in your trial, isn't he?"

"I sure as hell hope not. I told him I didn't want his help."

"Maybe you don't want it, but you certainly need it."

"God, I wish people would stop saying that." I groaned, stirring milk into the coffee.

"Well, what would you rather? Staying here in the city, doing your job at the newsagency, while completing a little community service on the side, or being stuck in some child prison where you have no freedom or privacy at all?"

I glanced at Vic, angry because he was right. As always.

"I get it," I said. "But of all the people that could've helped me, why'd it have to be him?"

Vic sighed.

"Because, unfortunately, you can't outrun your past forever."

I scoffed, then downed a mouthful of coffee.

"Maybe you're right," I said. "But I can sure as hell try."

© A.G. Travers 2015