Innocence

The Other Sleepover

I realised soon after my birthday that no matter how much I tried to ignore it, everything my father said to my stuck to me. His words thickened in my blood like poison, it stuck to my skin like tar. I didn't know why it had such an effect, I desperately tried not to care but somewhere inside me I did, and I hated it. I felt like I was drowning when I thought about where I was. The only time I didn't feel plagued by it was when I was with Esti, when our bodies were entwined and when I could feel the love in her embrace.

I'd worn my mother's necklace every day since my birthday, often running my finger over the centre of the design but carefully avoiding the edges, because I wanted there to be parts of the pendant that still had her touch on it. I studied it a lot when I was by myself, wondering what she'd have done while wearing it. She would have cooked and baked food for guests with it around her neck, she would have prayed with it on. It would have dangled near me when she would hold me in her arms as a baby, perhaps there was even a time when the chain was pressed between the both of us; I liked thinking of that. I tried to go through photos of her to try and find her wearing the necklace, but it was an exhausting and sad task, so I gave up.

I tried to avoid my father, we were both skilled at that; living in the same space but barely seeing one another. It was easier, because he was usually always away somewhere or tucked away in his study, but he'd been spending more time at home recently. That was because he was starting to clear things out, mostly my mother's things. We had one of our worst arguments ever when I'd found him piling up the boxes of her makeup, perfume and clothes from the spare room.

'They are going to be donated to the community, Ronit!' My father was holding one of the boxes while I stood in the doorway.

'No! They're not yours to give away!' I was shaking my head, feeling anger pumping through and making the top of my head hot.

'They are not your mother's anymore!' His face was getting red and I noticed a vein growing in his forehead.

'They're not yours either!' I yelled. 'I want to keep them!'

'They're just sitting in that room collecting dust, Ronit.'

'You're only doing this because of Mrs Ceder! You can't just make mum disappear! You can't get rid of her!'

'I am not trying to! You are speaking nonsense yet again, about matters you do not understand! Now move!'

'No!'

'Ronit, I am warning you.'

'What? What will you do?' I'd taken a step forward, I felt my chin jutting out and the sneer paining my face.

His jaw clenched, he threw the box at the ground in between us, making something smash inside it, and stormed past me. 'In that case, find a place for everything. I want that room cleared by this evening!' His voice trailed off as he did, marching somewhere else in the house. I started picking up my mother's things with angry tears in my eyes.

'He's probably in pain too, Ronit.' Esti reasoned, after I'd told her about the fight we'd had.

'He doesn't feel anything, he's a brute and he doesn't care at all.'

We were walking to the deli in the claggy heat of the afternoon; we both had a little money and were craving the almond nougat that Mrs Fisher made on Sunday.

'You don't know that he's not. You two never talk.'

'Eurgh, who actually talks to their parents?' I groaned and held the door open for her, making the bell tinkle above us.

'Sometimes it helps.' She mumbled as she stepped inside the sweltering deli. We took our seats and ordered the nougat from Mrs Fisher, who seemed too busy to stop and talk to us. She threw two slices onto one plate, which we shared between us; the nougat was chewy and nutty and stuck to my teeth and the roof of my mouth. It was sweet relief.