Page 35 of Broken Beyond Repair

“Yes, is that okay?” Sydney fussed with the edges of her phone case. “It’s going to prove useful—in a responsible way, I promise.”

Beatrice nodded, her expression jaded. She’d given her everything — the disgust, the fear, the guilt, and some of the weight.

All Sydney wanted to do was give her a hug and tell her how sorry she was that she had gone through that.

Fuck it.

Although a hug wouldn’t be welcome, the least she could do was show the woman some kindness.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she offered up.

Beatrice responded with another shrug. “As I said, it happens. It will always happen. Men are like fires; you hose one down and another pops up.”

“A nightmarish game of Whack-A-Mole,” Sydney suggested.

“Indeed,” Beatrice replied with a roll of her eyes.

The question remained: What happened to Beatrice Russell as a child to have the need for a new beginning when she became an adult?

Temptation gnawed at her to google Beatrice; her integrity ignored it. She would know soon enough, when Beatrice finished vomiting her childhood into her laptop for Sydney to make legible. The strangest thing was, she didn’t even know the woman’s real name.

When Sydney reappeared late that afternoon to start dinner, she descended the stairs to the mouthwatering aroma of roast chicken. Alex was busily preparing something as she entered the kitchen; a peek over his shoulder revealed a potato salad in the making.

“I was coming down to make something,” she said. “You’ve beaten me to it.”

The teenager flinched. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s nice to have someone else cook, and this looks and smells amazing.”

“I can do it every night… until I go to Dad’s, I mean.”

“If you’re sure.”

Alex nodded, seemingly eager to help. “I’ll need a few things, though.”

“Write me a list and I’ll make sure they get added when I do the next order.”

Alex volunteering to make dinner for the next week was very welcome news to Sydney. It would free her up to get more work done or may even allow for a brief afternoon nap like the one she’d just enjoyed. It increased her productivity late into the evening.

A glance over at the sofa brought a smile to her face. Beatrice glared at her laptop through her glasses; it was nice to see her death stare wasn’t reserved solely for humans.

With Alex’s dinner served, Sydney intended to skulk off to devour her delicious plateful of food and afford the mother and son some privacy, but Beatrice called out in a smoky voice, “Sydney… aren’t you joining us?”

Her eyebrows sprang up. “Sure.” She took her usual seat with a smile.

“This is really good, Alex,” she added after her first mouthful.

“Thanks. I want to be a chef one day.”

“Oh, are you still on that?” Beatrice groaned. “You could be anything you want to be.”

“And I will be. A chef.”

Beatrice pulled a face like she’d sucked a lemon. Sydney knew better than to get involved in a disagreement between mother and son. She struggled to contain a smile at Beatrice’s disgust at his ambition.

“Are you seeing any of your friends over the holidays?” Beatrice asked, changing the subject.

“No, they are all off to their holiday homes with theirfamilies.”