Nell

She hears the door opening, and looks at the clock: eight thirty. She figures her mom must have gotten caught in some kind of traffic. It is not a good sign.

She hears the sound of heels clicking on the sidewalk outside, and silently laments how she lost track of time; now she has no choice but to spend the rest of her night tiptoeing around Mom.

She hears the door open, and the keys being dropped on the shelf. Nell stiffens but continues to read her notes. Maybe her test will prompt her mother to allow her to leave, to escape to her room for the night.

She hears her mother’s voice, weary and carefully condescending. “Go get the computer from my car, sweetheart, and when you get back in, would you be a dear and make me a glass of tea? Do you think you can manage that?”

Of course, Mother. Whatever you say, Mother.

She hears her own heavy breathing as she hoists the computer bag onto her shoulder, balancing the planner and stacks of articles in her hands as she tries to close the car doors. Her breathing is heavy not for physical exertion but for apprehension, frustration, towards herself, towards her mother, towards her father for leaving her to deal with his wife, towards her brother for moving so far away.

She hears the pen clicking impatiently as her mother waits for what she requested to be brought to her. Mom never was one that could wait patiently.

She hears the ice clink against the glass as she prepared her tea, and hurries to put everything away before taking the drink to her mother.

She hears the scratching of the pen against paper as she makes notes in the margins of her articles. She’s preparing some sort of presentation with a few coworkers for something at the end of the month; she doesn’t really remember what it was for, but she knows that Mom has been stressing out over it for some time now.

She hears the syrupy sweet tone of her voice as she takes the glass with a “Thank you, honey.”

She hears the oppressive silence as she returns to her notebook, staring at the page she’s reread twice. She knows just how much worse everything will become if she tries to leave the room. There will be another lecture on how rude it is to just leave her mother, and how no one wants to spend any time with her, and no matter how true it is, she’ll have to deny it profusely.

“Nelly, darling?”

When her daughter looks up, she has a sour look on her face. “Do you really have to have your hair in your face all the time? And have you washed it lately? I just want you to look presentable, sweetie.”

“Yes, Mom. I wash my hair every day.”

“Well, you might want to find something new to treat it with. Just a suggestion, darling.”

About ten minutes go by before her mother says something again. “You haven’t turned a page, Nelly. Are you okay? Did you get enough sleep? Did you do something? You’re not paying much attention to your schoolwork, I’m just concerned.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Just making sure I understand it all.”

“Just making sure, honey. I mean, if you need help with anything, I can find some solution.”

She hears her mother’s sigh as, after half an hour passes in the same fashion, she tells Mom that she’s going to bed early.

She hears her mother as she yells at her father to come upstairs for once.

And all she can hear as she falls asleep is the sound of her own breathing, and it’s the best thing she’s heard since she got home.