Page 1 of Indie
Chapter One
She stared back at me. Tired, sunken eyes surrounded by deep shadows, and a frown line forming between her brows, thick and rutted, betraying her twenty-eight years. Little bruises marbling pale skin and scattered across the surface of her chest and arms. Her hair lay limp, strawberry blonde strands dropping onto her shoulders, the mirror cutting off the rest of the body she couldn’t face looking at.
“Mam! Mam!” The sweet voice was shrill in an exhausted silence, pulling my attention away from the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
I pulled my dressing gown around me before stepping back, hiding the sagging, stretched skin from my view. The girl in the mirror had changed so much, youth taken from her, happiness stripped away bit by bit. A pang of guilt hit me hard, making my eyes tear and my throat choke up. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t wish my life to be different. There were parts I would never change, but all of it had changed me.
She glanced at me again, her face, my face, reflected in the glass. A little smile. Forced. Sad. Tired.
The breakfast table was littered with little round ‘o’s. Cereals scattered across the top, milk pooling under the bowl and dripping onto the floor.
“Sorry, Mammy. You were busy,” she shrugged.
“It’s ok, baby.”
I sighed, slowly letting the air leave my lungs so not to show the six-year-old my frustration. That I still had to take a shower, cover the bags under my eyes with make-up and drink a cup of the strongest coffee ever, just to get through the day. Shift number two. I’d had five hours sleep. No where near enough physically, or legally, before starting another shift. But it was extra money. Much needed extra money.
The water pounded the glass of the shower door, persistent and rhythmical. Relaxing. The spray on my skin washing away the tiredness, at least for just a few minutes. And for a few minutes I closed my eyes, listening to the steady patter, the heat enveloping my skin, dampening the constant whirring thoughts cycling through my brain.
“Mam!” The bathroom door banged hard against the toilet bowl. “Mam! Where’s my football kit?”
“The dryer. Give me a minute. I’ll get it in a minute.”
“And Lily’s dropped the margarine on the floor.”
“Right. Ok. I’ll sort it in a minute.”
“There’s none left. Daisy’s eaten it.”
“What? All of it?”
“Well, she had her tongue right inside the tub, licking it. I’m not eating it if she’s been licking it.”
I shut the shower off, heat wicked away by the colder air.
“Ok. Ok. I’m coming. Luke, can you at least put the dog outside, please?”
The kitchen was carnage. Wet clothes strewn across the floor, dragged from the washing machine, the fridge door hanging open and half the contents of the bottom shelf knocked out. I sighed, staring, not sure what to tackle first. The dog barked at the back door and the television blared from the lounge. And still I stared. Unable to do anything.
Glancing at the clock, at the time that counted down, the seconds ticked away. Scooping the margarine off the floor, I surveyed the damage. The once smooth texture now mottled by the tongue that had licked through it. It had been a full tub, a third now gone, but if I scraped off the top layer, it would still be good to use. I pushed it on the bench, stroking it over the bread and then patting down the ham.
“Urgh. No way am I eating that!”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve scraped off the bit she’d licked.”
“Nah. No way.”
Another sigh. That’s all I did these days, sigh.
“Luke, please. There’s no more marg.”
“Fine. I’ll just have it without.”
Fine.
The boy looked up at me. Light blue eyes and light brown hair. He would be handsome one day. Like his father. He would be a heart-breaker. Like his father. And I hoped the similarities would end there.
The door handle rattled. Daisy barked from outside. Luke moved to the back door.