Mama Killed A Man

When I was a kid, back when everyone was good and those that were evil didn’t mean to be, I would imagine what my father was like. When the lights were out and the curtains were drawn, I’d whisper to the air about what happened at school and what I’d want from him for Christmas. Then when I fell asleep I’d dream of honey-brown eyes and a strong embrace, and my Mother smiling the way I always wished she would- like life was going as planned.

Even as I grew older and more realistic and my faith in the human race began to wane, a small part of me still clung on to that saintly figure of my father. He was my sanctuary, an image of security that I’d constructed for myself because no one else had assembled it for me. Then when I actually met my father, somehow that strong, safe, naive fabrication transferred to the real thing. I connected to him faster than I’d connected to anyone in my life, and I should’ve known then that it was too good to be true for the awkward, introverted creature I was. It wasn’t until I told him about Brookie that I realised I’d been kidding myself all along, and then it was too late. I was in too deep.

He said I was being ridiculous. What I’d heard was one half of a muffled conversation, and what I was doing with that was jumping to conclusions that could cost a girl her career. It didn’t matter that I was right, that the paparazzi came back. They were bound to come back at some point, he said. I was being selfish and jealous and he was shocked at how callous I could be. Didn’t I know how serious this accusation was? Hadn’t he told me how much he detested liars? Didn’t I think this irrational dislike had gone too far? I was more like my mother than I let on, he said. I was a disappointment.

And so was he.

No one had defended me. Louise, Graeme, Celeste, they all gnawed at their bottom lips and avoided my pleading stare. Their furrowed brows and disheartened glances were foreign to me, I’d never seen them in such a light, and I realised then that I was looking for friends in a place of strangers.

I felt sick; physically, mentally and emotionally unwell. I felt like I was hanging off the lip of a deep ravine and everyone was crowded around watching me, eroding the surface I grappled for with their trampling rage, willing me to fall. With nearly seven billion people on earth, not a single one would give me a hand up, and the thought of that was so far past depressing that I wished myself into nonexistence. Everything was caving in, falling down, giving out. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

I had never felt so unbearably alone.

My eyes stung and heavy dread pulled at my chest as I curled into a ball at the foot of my bed. I tucked my hands under my chin and stuck my elbows into my gut, crushing in the hot churn and burn of acid. A haunting silence rang in my ears.

John hadn’t said anything. Not a single word. I didn’t know what he meant by it and the ambiguity of his faceless expression was just eating me up. I wish he’d called me a bitch, a liar, told me he hated me- anything would have been better than what my mind was making up.

I don’t know how long I’d been lying there but when Celeste came down wearing red, plaid pyjamas, her hair scrunched into a bun at the nape of her neck and toothpaste frothing at the corners of her mouth, I figured it was more than a few hours. I wondered vaguely why she was still living here. She pursed her lips as her emerald gaze took in my coiling frame.

“Someone was at the door for you,” she said quietly, brandishing her toothbrush at the
ceiling. “Two women, they’re waiting in the living room.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as her footsteps padded back up the stairs, curiosity fleeting through the pain that panged my skull. Who on earth could have been at the door for me? My toes tingled and my legs throbbed as I uncoiled myself and fresh blood spread through my limbs. Little stars flitted in my vision and I grasped the bed frame to steady myself, squinting and gritting my teeth as my head swam and swirled from the laboured motion. Slowly, I peeled off my clothes and changed into a fresh pair of sweatpants and a loose cotton t-shirt. My greasy hair stuck to my face and I scrunched my nose against the stench of dead skin and scalp as I ambled across the room and up the stairs. My sticky feet suctioned to the floor leaving smudgy prints along the hall and notifying the women of my arrival.

One of them looked up and I froze, hand reaching out to grip the alcove. My eyes widened and my heart hammered in my throat as dread reduced my insides to putty.

“Amberlyn, darling!” Aunt Denise cooed, hands clapping to her chest. Scarlet lips arced into a grin, eyes gleaming menacingly as she pushed off the armrest and stood up. Her silver, satin harem pants shifted with her legs as she strode towards me and the plume of white-blonde hair bounced beneath the chiffon scarf around her head. She sniffled and a hand leapt to her mouth as her forehead creased with overwhelming emotion.

“Sweat-pea, I’m so glad you’re safe!” She pressed me to her chest and I felt the pinch of her acrylic claws on my shoulder blades.

“We’ve missed you so much.”

Over Denise’s shoulder, I saw her adjust her spectacles, her mouth tweaking into a tight-lipped smile. Her mousy brown hair had been cropped into a bob, barely teasing her jaw and her usual stiff-blouse-and-pencil-skirt had been replaced by a pale pink sundress. I stiffened, tugging myself from the embrace. The grasp on my back tightened and I flinched as hot breath tickled my neck.

“Play along,” she hissed, so quietly I thought I’d imagined it. “Play along, and you won’t get hurt.”

Then it clicked. Nora’s beady eyes darted to my father sitting straight-backed on the edge of the birch coffee table. Then they darted to the silver ornaments adorning the bookshelves, the plasma screen, the surround sound system, the framed records perched on the walls. My body flexed against Denise’s hold, caged rage storming my mind. I snatched myself from her grip, her nails raking across my back, and looked her sharply in the eye. She stumbled slightly, peep-toe wedges clacking on the floorboards.

“Play along with what?” I spat, clenching my jaw. “Your fifteen minutes of fame or Nora’s gold-digging venture?”

I felt my father’s hard gaze burn into the side of my head. He hadn’t intervened yet, which meant he was curious enough to give me a chance, and I was grateful for that. Denise looked at him, the picture of innocence.

“Sorry, sweetheart?” she stammered. “I haven’t a clue what you mean.”

I watched my father’s face as it clouded with a look I knew too well by now, and my heart sank. My brain turned to mush, my vocabulary with it, and I babbled a slew of incomprehensible vowels. He shook his head and ran a frustrated hand through his mane. Nora looked smug.

“Amber, when will you give it a rest?” he sighed. Then he got up and left the room.

I watched his retreating back until it disappeared up the stairs and clenched my teeth against the water that gathered at my tear-ducts. I turned back to Denise.

“What did you tell him?” I demanded. She turned and sauntered back to her chair, plopping down with an airy sigh.

“The truth,” she plucked a grape from the fruit bowl on the coffee table and played with it between her lips. “I told him I’m your Aunt, that Nora is my sister’s daughter and that being your closest family, we were very worried when you didn’t call.”

I scoffed, glaring at Nora as she fingered the crystal ash-tray. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

Denise ignored my remark. “You didn’t call because you blame Nora for your mother’s death; he believed it easier than I thought he would,” she smirked. I shifted uncomfortably; the air had suddenly become very hot. “It’s because you’ve been naughty, isn’t it, Amberlyn?”

“You’re all over the tabloids,” Nora piped in.

I felt dizzy. I needed to sit down. My chest constricted and my temples pulsed with stress. Average Aussie girl finds out her father is a rock star- it must have made a great story. My breaths shallowed and quickened as the ultimate truth dawned upon me- I had nowhere to run.

“Get out of my house,” I breathed, holding my chest. “Get out, now.”

“You don’t want to do that, Amber,” Nora said, but because I could never take her seriously, I ignored the threat in her tone. I shouldn’t have.

“Yes, I do,” I snapped. “Now get out!”

Aunt Denise snatched a pear from the bowl, batting her eyelashes at me as she passed.

“If you say so.”

And then they were gone, and I was alone again.