Starting Over

Chapter 3: Working class man. Or woman.

Elle sipped her glass of orange juice and flipped through the 'Jobs' section of the local paper that Robert had delivered everyday.

"You know you can get a digital version of the newspaper now?" She asked her father as he fiddled in the kitchen making breakfast for himself. 

It was the next morning and Elle was feeling motivated to find a job so she could get a place of her own. And her mother had helped fuel that motivation by following her around the previous day with well meaning, but unhelpful comments. "You've gained a bit of weight, no offense, it's just that even though you're married, it's important to look good for your husband." And, "I don't like your hair that colour. It's too dark for your complexion. I thought Brandon preferred you as a blonde?" It was all Elle could do to keep from screaming. Her choices were either to endure the thoughtless comments from her mum, or sleep in the car. And the latter choice was seeming more and more desirable.

"A digital version of the newspaper? Why would I want that?"

Elle shrugged. "Save paper. You know, climate change and all that."

"Climate change," Robert chuckled.

Elle smiled and rolled her eyes behind his back.

"Besides, looks like that newspaper's getting some good use."

Elle had to concede defeat. "Ooh, there's a job at the travel agency. . . no, what, it says the applicant must have prior experience." Elle sighed and raked her fingers through her brunette hair. She hadn't had a job for almost 4 years now. She was out of touch and lacking the experience so many of these job positions required.

"Good morning all," Melinda said as she strode into the kitchen.

"Morning," Elle said.

"Good morning," Georgia said from where she'd taken her spot again by the toy tub.

"Goo' morn," Tilly mumbled.

"How did we all sleep?" Melinda began making herself a coffee.

"Fine," Elle lied. Another sleepless night. Another night of crying herself to sleep. At least the Egyptian cotton sheets and Polish goose down pillows had been somewhat of a comfort to her.

"What's on the agenda today?" Melinda asked. "I was thinking we could go shopping. Pick you some new outfits."

"I packed my clothes. I have plenty of things to wear," Elle said.

Melinda pursed her lips. "Well why don't you go and get changed out of those pyjamas and show me what you have."

Elle frowned. "These are not pyjamas."

Melinda stifled a laugh. "You're not serious? Elle, you can't wear that out in public."

"What's wrong with it?" Elle looked down at her khaki pants and plain white T-shirt from Cotton-On. She loved this outfit. "It's casual and comfortable."

"Exactly. is that what you want people to think about you?"

"What that I'm casual and like to dress comfortably?" Elle caught Robert's hint of a smile.

"That you don't put in any effort. That you wear ill-fitting clothing because you care more about your comfort and impressing others."

Elle sighed and held her head in her hands. "I don't really care what people think of me."

"Well I do." Melinda took a sip of her coffee. "What will people think of you, Elle? they'll talk, you know they will. They'll make assumptions. Things like, 'Brandon left her because she got fat and boring'."

"Hey." Elle frowned. "That's not fair."

"Honey," Robert said, that warning tone making another appearance.

"I'm sorry. You're right." Melinda turned to Robert. "You're right. You're not fat. Or boring. But you have put on some weight, and you do dress rather plainly. All I'm saying is that rumours will start to spread and we don't want to give anyone a reason to blame you in this situation."

Image was everything to Melinda. They had the fanciest house on the street, a new Chrysler, and a garden that'd make the Queen jealous. It must have been such a drain having a daughter like Elle.

"There's a lovely new store in the shopping centre that sell the most amazing pant suits. You'd look wonderful in one. They say, 'I'm cool, I'm casual, but I'm also sophisticated and classy',"

Seeing she was getting nowhere, Elle relented. "Sure, Mum, sounds good."

"Great. I'll go and get my purse."

Elle opened the messages on her phone. She could see that Brandon had read her messages, but he hadn't replied. How long was he going to keep this up? Surely he was wondering where she was, and how she was? Surely he missed Georgia and Tilly?