An Unexpected Affair

Ed

Mum’s just been really scared lately.

Her text woke me up ten minutes before my alarm

did, it’s Monday, I’ll probably be running late anyway.

Elise’s sister has been running away from home since she was 14, the first few times it was terrifying for all of them. But then they got used to the half-hearted promises and the bad excuses. Charlotte is 17 and she’s been gone for six months, that’s the longest so far. And when she left last spring, I was at Elise’s house, we were drawing and listening to new indie tracks when we heard the yelling.

There was a crash and then a slap. And we both looked up at each other, there were muffled swear words and some yelling where we could only pick out some words. And then there were footsteps in the hallway, the first set were stompy, speedy and frustrated. And the second set were more like lazy, smug shuffle.

“Charlotte, you owe me 300.” Said the lazy footsteps, a deep voiced man, probably Charlotte’s newest boyfriend.

“Oh, Suck my a$$ Brent.”

“Charlotte...”

The footsteps stopped, and then there were sounds of several cars out in the street, Elise and I got up hurriedly. Then it happened so suddenly I can’t really remember what happened,

All I really know is that Charlotte messed around with the wrong boys, and had loyalties with other wrong boys, And when she ran out of the house that night, there were threats being hurled at the family. Charlotte just kept running down the street, and Elise took a week off school.

In the last few weeks Elise has been getting daily letters, demanding the money, no one knows where Charlotte is, and it’s making Elise’s parents very worried.

I jump as my alarm blares. A klaxon of horror. I roll out of bed and stumble down the stairs, on the kitchen bench is the usual note:

Sorry Ed, Needed to go into work early

-Mom xx

She was always hurrying here to there, there to here, never enough time to just settle down with a nice book, or a cup of tea.

My brain isn’t working until at least after my coffee. My brain just fends for itself until then.

Sugar, coffee, cupboard . Milk, fridge. Cup. Kettle. Drink.

I went back upstairs and got dressed, loose jeans, a retro band shirt, and I brushed my hair to the side effortlessly.

I slipped on my vans, rolled my jeans up twice, tipped my coffee into a cardboard cup, and grabbed my keys of the bench,

I can tell already that it’s gonna be a bad day.