Well, dear, this is your new room. Make yourself at home.
Emily took a few tentative steps. The bed was covered with an absurdly fluffy quilt, a desk bore a sleek laptop, a wardrobe with mirrored doors stood beside a rectangular rug patterned with geometric shapes. Everything was stylish, expensive, nothing like her old bedroom.
Her father, Simon, hauled two large suitcases full of Emilys things and set them by the wardrobe.
Youll sort it out yourself, right?
Of course. Who else would she ask? Not Claire, of course.
Claire entered, balancing a longstemmed flower with narrow leaves, and perched it on the windowsill.
I thought it would look lovely here.
She smiled brightly at Emily, who stood there, gloomy and silent.
Come on, Tom, she says.
She placed a hand on Simons shoulder and guided him toward the door.
Settle in, she whispered, gently closing the door behind her.
Settle in, Emily repeated in her mind, feeling a wave of melancholy and unease. She dropped onto the bed, turned to face the wall, curled into a ball, hugging her knees, and shut her eyes.
Mother, mother! Why? We were always together, and now youve left me. Why didnt you go straight to the hospital? Why did you let it get this far? she thought, the words echoing in the dream.
For ten years Emily had been a perfect mums girl. After Simon left, she rarely saw her father. Evenings at home had been filled with her mothers love, the scent of fresh scones, and steaming tea. Now she was forced to live with strangers. Simon didnt even call her by namejust daughter. The word dad felt foreign on her tongue. She drifted to thoughts of her fathers new wife.
Emily imagined wealthy men after divorce marrying models with perfect lips, but Claire, though younger than Simon, was plainlooking: short, bobbed hair, running a modest legal practice. She was clever, businesslike, not like her mother. The house once smelled of pies and roast, but now Claire often ordered takeaway.
I wonder if she arranged this room for me? Most likely, not Simon. She does have an eye for style, she thought.
Emily brushed the long, soft pile of the quilt, a texture shed never known.
At her new school, Emily quickly made friends, largely because of her fathers wealth and her striking looks. The girls decided it was easier to be allies than rivals. Previously, Emilys only close person had been her mother. Now the new crowd liked her, understood her, and she felt needed. For the first time, boys gave her attention, and she delighted in the secret thrill.
At first, she truly suffered from the circumstances, and the class labelled her a halforphan forced to live with an unwanted father and a cold stepmother. Emily liked that image and later cultivated it deliberately.
She didnt hear a classmate whisper to the boys:
Why does she talk so much about her stepmother? My mums friend works for her and says shes a decent lady.
When Emily finally returned home very late, Simon said:
I know you want to spend time with friends, so I didnt call. But please, dont stay out so late again. Deal?
Emily gave no reply and slipped to her room.
The next time they planned a night out, she turned off her phone. Simons expression at the door promised trouble.
If it happens again, Ill have to take action, he warned.
Emily shot him a swift, angry glance and marched to the bedroom where Claire sat on the bed. The moment Emily entered, Claire rose.
I wanted to talk to you.
Emily stayed silent, her posture screaming, What else do you want? Claire stumbled, losing some of her resolve.
He worries about you.
Im almost sixteen! Emily snapped.
She began coming home on time to avoid angering Simon. She had a plan for her sixteenth birthday, to celebrate with friends. Her older brothers roommate had offered them a flat. She was dating a boy she liked and dreamed of a private moment with him.
Emily, Claire booked a table for tomorrow. Well mark your birthday. You can invite friends if you wish.
A restaurant? With you? I was planning to celebrate with my mates!
When were you going to tell me?
I dont know, maybe tomorrow.
So on the day itself. Fine. If you want friends, you can have them over at our house. Claire will sort the food.
Emilys skin went cold. Everything was nearly ready. Maxs brother, whose flat they would use, had supplied the spirits. The party seemed inevitable. She imagined the absurdity of being laughed at in her own parental home. She fled to school, determined to think of something.
In the hallway, a harsh light flared. A furious Simon stood before Emily.
What do you think youre doing?!
He stepped closer, smelling alcohol and cigarette smoke on her.
What do you think youre doing, I ask!
He raised his hand, ready to strike her cheek.
Tom!
Claire appeared behind him. Emily lifted her head, seeing Claires desperate eyes, mascara smudged from recent tears.
Claire gently pushed Simon aside, took Emilys shoulders, and led her to another room.
Tell me quickly, has anyone hurt you? Did anyone do something bad? she whispered.
Emily shook her head.
No, its fine.
Ill speak to Simon. How can I help you now?
Bring me a drink.
Claire told her husband, nervous at the door, that Emily was fine. When Claire returned, Emily, still dressed, was already fast asleep.
She smelled of alcohol! Did you notice? Simon blurted as Claire tried to discuss Emily.
Of course. Remember when you were sixteen?
And what? Shes just a girl!
Right. Think of your peers. Emilys clever, but her friends mean more to her now than we do. Give her time. Her life changed in an instant; perhaps that helps her cope.
Cope with what? She has everythingfood, clothes, shoes. Ill grant any whim!
Simon! Stop pretending! The girl lost her mother. All she needs now is love and attention, which she seeks in that circle. Something happened todaymaybe a fight?
I dont know, Simon sighed, shoulders slumping. I never imagined it would be this hard.
And me? Claire smiled, embracing her husband, kissing his crown. Dont worry. Well manage together.
In the morning, Claire entered Emilys room. She was awake, eyes wide.
How do you feel? No headache?
Claire pulled back the curtains and handed Emily a glass of water.
Emily sat up, gulped it greedily.
Why did you look after me yesterday?
Well, I was sixteen too. Happy birthday, by the way.
Emily stayed silent.
Do you hate me?
Because of your father?
You know thats not true. We met a year after he left.
Exactly! What if he came back?
Claire sighed.
Its never simple, Emily. Often people cant reconnect after a breakup.
Why not? Whats in the way? People like you? My mother was wonderful!
Your mother was wonderful! Claire reached for Emilys hand, but she pulled away. Adult relationships are messy. Some can be fixed, some not, and sometimes you have to part. No single blame.
What about me? Im not at fault. He didnt care!
Thats not true. He tried to provide everything you needed, staying aware of your life.
He didnt want to meet me!
He wanted to, just thought youd be better off with your mother.
Claire didnt mention that Emilys mother had asked her exhusband not to contact their daughter after marrying Simon, fearing he would take too much of her time. Simon had given up after the first fight.
He loves you a lot. Youre just growing up.
Claire placed her hand on Emilys shoulder. This time Emily didnt pull away.
So if the boy I was seeing showed up on my birthday with another girl and said he was leaving me, is he the only one to blame?
Hmm. Think about it. Did he say anything else?
That Im too complicated.
See?
In that moment Emily suddenly yearned for a hug, for someone to make her a child again, for a figure to solve all her problems, to dissolve the painful knot in her chest from yesterdays betrayal. Claire seemed to sense this and pressed the crying girl close.
Emily, I know I cant replace your mother, but Id like to be your friend. I fell in love at sixteen too, with a boy a year older, only to find he was seeing someone else from the neighbouring school.
What a scoundrel! What did you do?
We both broke up with him.
What was your fault?
I spent too much time studying.
They laughed, and the heaviness lifted. Both felt theyd taken a giant step toward each other.
Listen, Claire said. Lets both take the day off! You go to school, I go to work, and well spend a bit of your dads money. Sound good?
Emily managed a shy smile.
All right! I talked to him yesterday. He said we could pick any gift. Ready?
The girls chattered excitedly about shopping and the time together, when a sudden jolt rocked the car they were in. A terrifying screech of brakes echoed, followed by a softer thump, like someone had knocked on the vehicle from outside, then silence.
Dad! Dad, were in the hospital!
Half an hour later, Emily saw her fathers silhouette at the end of a hospital corridor and waved.
Emily!
Simon rushed to her, cradling her shoulders, scanning her from head to toe. He saw bruises on her face and hands.
Are you hurt? Any cuts? he asked, voice trembling.
Its nothing, Dad, Im fine.
Simon stared into her eyes, his own wide with fear, and whispered:
Wheres Claire?
In the ward. The impact came from her side. Some idiot popped up out of nowhere. Shes alive, Dad!
Simon pressed her close, then released. Emily felt his tremor, pressed her head against his shoulder.
Im ashamed of yesterday.
He stroked her back uncertainly.
Stop. Lets forget it, okay?
Emily nodded.
A doctor entered.
Are you her husband?
Yes, Simon said, letting Emily go. What happened to her?
Severe bruises and shock. The airbag did its job. Shell be fine. The main thing is the child is unharmed.
The child? Simon looked bewildered. Yes, the child wasnt injured.
The doctor gave a faint smile and left.
Its as if I cant see my own child isnt hurt, Simon muttered.
He hugged Emily again with one arm.
Dad, did you not understand the child?
What do you mean?
Simon seemed genuinely confused, staring at his daughter. Emily rolled her eyes.
Im going to have a brother or sister soon!
