Silver

Chapter 13 - then

Music was blaring through all of the speakers in the house when I arrived home. This could mean only one thing; my mother was home. This happened about once every three months or so. She left work early, so that we could have a 'family night'.

I tried sneaking to my bedroom, but she caught me in the hallway.

'You're home,' she exclaimed.

I managed a smile.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

'I feel okay, a little tired perhaps.'

'I've been so worried.'

'Mum, can you let me put my bag down?' I said, moving past her in the hall.

In my bedroom, I shut the door and dumped my school bag in a corner. I went over to the musictop screen and switched the speaker off in my room, using the touchscreen.

Mum did a gentle double knock on the door and poked her head in.

'I'm making dinner,' she said, 'Come out and we can have a chat.'

'I've got an exam tomorrow,' I said. 'Catcher in the Rye. English.' The last thing I felt like doing was watching my mum stumble around in the kitchen, asking me, 'where's the siev?', 'where's the cheese grater?'. It was like I had to reintroduce her to the kitchen every time she cooked.

'Oh, okay. Come out in an hour. We should be ready to eat by then.'

After an hour I was hungry, so I went out to the kitchen. Dad was home, so I went over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

'I hear you're studying,' he said, 'I didn't want to disturb you.'

The bin had been pulled out of its bracket inside the cupboard door and was sitting in the middle of the kitchen. In the bin was our dinner.

'The risotto was overcooked. I told your father it was ready, but he said that it needed more stirring.' I didn't believe this, my father is an excellent cook.

'We're getting takeaway,' dad said. 'From the Afghan restaurant you like.'

Dad poured some Edelweiss juice and plopped a pickled chrysanthenum flower into a large wine glass for me.

When the takeaway arrived, mum put the meats and rice and side dishes on to a platter.

'How's your study going?' mum asked, as we sat down at the dining table.

'Good.'

She served herself, slowly. Then dad passed me the platter. Mum started eating, saying 'this is pretty good, but there's a great Afghan restaurant near work that makes an amazing bean dish. Life changing.' I started chewing slowly on the marinated chicken. 'We're acquiring another company,' mum said, 'so I'll have to go to London in a week or two.'

My mother is the Marketing Director of a large educational publisher. She worked her way up from Editorial Assistant, to Editor, to Senior Editor, to Publisher, to Publishing Manager and now to Marketing Director in twelve years. I came along when she was a Publisher. She liked to tell everyone how she went back to work just two weeks after I was born. She had eight weeks at home with my sister. I used to wonder if that's why they got along better, perhaps they really bonded in those extra six weeks that my mother had at home?

'We're trialling a new movepod download for year 11 English,' she said, 'Perhaps I could bring the prototype home and you could test it for us?'

I shrugged my shoulders. I'd done stuff like this before and she didn't really listen to my suggestions anyway. It was more her way of showing off what she was doing at work.

'How was your day, dad?' I asked.

'It was okay,' he said. He doesn't elaborate much when mum's around, 'hey, there's an exhibition at McClelland Gallery that we can go to on Saturday. The wild man will be on show again. Are you keen?'

'Sure,' I said, relieved that I was actually doing something with dad now. Funny that, life imitating lies.

'Your father and I wanted to talk about something with you,' mum said. She placed her loaded fork back down on her plate. I looked at my father, who didn't return my gaze.

'I've booked you in to see an agency next Thursday,' mum said.

My mouth went dry. I felt suffocated by a feeling of dread and helplessness.

'But Marion ... you didn't make her get married until she was in university.'

'We didn't make her do anything,' mum said, the pitch of her voice rising just a little.

'It's just ... I didn't expect this yet. I thought it would be the same for me as it was for Marion. I thought I had a couple of years left ...' A couple of years had felt like long enough time to change something in my future.

'Sylvie, don't argue with me. This is not up for discussion. You're getting married in February. I've had to move mountains to get this appointment on Thursday. This is the best agency in Australia. You should count yourself lucky.'

Traffic light red scorched my eyes. I couldn't see my parents, or the dining table, or my plate, or the artwork on the wall. All I could see was red. I could feel the tablecloth under my fingers as I stood up. I could hear the wine glass smash on the floor. I still wasn't seeing anything, just the red, when I heard glass crunch under my shoes as I burst out of there.

I found the front door, and just as I was turning the handle, I thought I heard my dad say, 'Let her go. She'll calm down.'