Synthetic Maze

Outside, the sky was clear, the sun hanging high, casting a yellow glow along the street. Lingering frost glistened in the sunshine. Despite the almighty sun making an appearance, it was still chilly for the middle of June. It was typical British summertime, forever cold and never quite warm enough, but even when it was, the majority would complain about the foreign temperature.

The weather was the least of Abbey’s worries. She was curled up in her old bed, the freshly washed quilt wrapped around her. It smelt like the lemon washing up tablets her mother had used for years. A scent she always associated with home. Her tiny, bruised portable television was playing a re-run of 90210, one she’d seen a million times before. Her eyes were rimmed with an angry red colour, the whites bloodshot and sleep deprived. She looked a heartbroken mess.

Her phone had rung several thousands of times. He’d left a string of grovelling messages, and sent text after text. All of them had the same formula. Hollow apologies and meaningless explanations. There was nothing he could say that would make this better. Abbey wasn’t about to accept his false sincerity and forget Marissa Clark had ever existed. A sick part of her wanted to know more about this girl. Was she taller? Was she slimmer? Prettier? Did her hair co-operate with her curling tongs? And did she have plump, kissable lips? It was torturing her. And as it rung again, she picked it up and launched it at the opposite wall. The battery fell out of the back and clattered to the floor, a crack forming in the screen. No way of contacting her now with his apologies.

She sniffled and stared at the television screen. “No! Naomi! Liam’s telling the truth!” She wailed, just as her bedroom door burst open and Andy was standing there, textbook under arm, his glasses firmly pressed on his nose.

“Go on then, who’s arse am I kicking?”

Abbey’s eyes filled up with tears again and she crumbled just as 90210 disappeared for an ad break. She pulled the quilt over head and let her face drop into her clammy hands. Her bedroom door closed and the bed sunk down beside her. Andy peeled the quilt from her and looked at her sympathetically.

“Don’t give me that trainee doctor look!” She reached for the cover and pulled it back around her, fixing her gaze on the television, just as an ad for used cars came on.

“Nice to know I’ve perfected the ‘your family member is dead’ look. But seriously Abbey, c’mon, mum’s worried about you, and Luke’s probably about to jump on a plane back here so he can kick some serious ex boyfriend arse.”

“Andrew, I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but the only thing that’ll make that happen is if his legs are sawn off and he can no longer play football, thus shattering his unrealistic dreams of being the next Beckham.”

Andy looked at her sympathetically, pushing her unwashed hair out of her face and wiping tears from her cheeks. “At least come downstairs and have something to eat. You don’t have to talk about it, I’ll make sure mum doesn’t ask. Please, Abbey, I have like a million things to read and diseases to memorise and it’s not gonna happen whilst mum’s downstairs, pacing, wondering what the hell is wrong.”

Abbey kicked the covers away from her and flicked the television off. “You’re lucky you’re my baby brother and I’d do anything for you.” She clambered out of bed and brought herself to her feet. She sniffled again and followed Andy out of the safety that was her old bedroom. Following him downstairs, she could hear the television loudly playing some daytime auction programme. The pair stepped into the large living room to find their mother clawing through a pile of letters.

“Darling, did you manage to -” she looked up and smiled warmly at Abbey. “Oh, sweets, what happened? What did he do to you?”

“Mum, Abbey doesn’t want to talk about it right now, but she will when she’s feeling better,” Andy informed her, before ducking out of the room and flipping through his heavy, disease filled textbook.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Vivien Francis-Hall had always been under the pretence that a problem shared was a problem halved. But she didn’t know how much Abbey’s problem was affecting her and that there was nothing she could do to make it stop.

“One hundred per cent positive,” Abbey flopped down on the cream leather sofa and stared at the television. “What are you watching?”

“Cash in the Attic.”

“God, mother, you’re forty five not seventy,” Abbey reached for the remote and flipped through the channels.

“Darling is it Kieron? Did he do something?” She dropped the letters down into a pile on the floor, before reaching for the many clothes catalogues she was subscribed to, and began ripping up the out of season one’s.

Abbey froze at the sound of his name. She had taken to simply calling him ‘he’. He didn’t deserve a name, to be considered human. She swallowed hard and stared straight ahead at Jeremy Kyle shouting the odds at some other idiots who’d forgotten to use a condom.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Vivien looked up from her catalogue ripping task and stared at her daughter. “What did he do?”

Abbey sighed heavily. There was only one way out of this situation. Her mother would poke and prod at her until she got a plausible answer. Abbey had never been able to lie convincingly to her mother, not like Luke and Andrew could.

“Darling, whatever he’s done -” Verity began, before Abbey cut her off completely.

“He cheated on me. He did an Ashley Cole, a Tiger Woods. He was texting some girl, she was sending him pictures of her, topless, in stringy underwear, and I found some of her underwear under our bed. There, now you got what you wanted.”

“Oh, Abbey. Darling, if he can’t see what he’s just lost then he’s not worth it. Those footballers think they can treat women like crap. Although it could be worse, he could be famous and you could end up splashed all over the cover of Hello! with everyone commenting on it.”

“Yeah, every cloud does have a silver lining, doesn’t it?” Abbey threw the remote down and stomped off upstairs. Sometimes, just sometimes, her mother infuriated her. Abbey knew there were bigger problems in the world, kids were being killed and soldiers were heading out to war. Couples split up all the time, but this once, she thought maybe Kieron had been a turning point. He had bigger dreams than any of the guys at school, college, university. He seemed different, like he wanted more from life. Just like she did. He was on her wavelength, and they got along, he made her laugh. He seemed to be almost perfect.

Almost because as her mother had warned her time and time again, ‘those footballers can never keep it in their Calvin Klein’s.’ Which was a statement Abbey was regretting she hadn’t believed before, until now.

Him doing the dirty felt like the end of the world to her. Maybe she was over reacting and in a few months, she’d look back and be embarrassed, but for now, she wanted nothing more than to wallow in her self pity and give herself something to laugh about in the future. The Kieron-less future.

Instead of heading to her own room, she stepped into Andy’s. He was laying across his bed, textbook open in front of him, his hand flying across his notebook as he made note after note. “Take it she asked.”

“Oh she asked alright,” Abbey folded her arms.

“I can’t believe he cheated on you. Abbey, if you want my opinion, the guy’s insane. His head isn’t connected to his dick and unfortunately, the latter seems to have a brain of it’s own, that’s what made him go off with some cheap slut who probably wants to be a page three girl, if she isn’t already. Let them have their pathetic, short term relationship, but he’ll regret losing you once she goes off with some richer, famous footballer who can give her all the diamonds in the world.”

“Okay, one, you were listening? And two, thank you.”

“One, yes I was listening, you’re my sister and if any stupid idiot hurts you, I wanna know about it, and two, you’re welcome.”

Abbey smiled and walked over to Andy, throwing her arms around him. “I love you.”

Andy wriggled underneath Abbey’s weight and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, soppy moment over, sis.”

She released him and left his room, the smile still attached to her lips.