Page 21 of The Wonder of You

I decide not to tell Lydia about Phoenix as we walk home. I’m not sure she’d believe me anyway, but she did believe that I was lucky enough to get a free go on Henry’s stall and just happened to be good enough to win. Walking away with her feels wrong, as if I am leaving my home, my people, to go off with a stranger. How has my life changed so quickly? I almost feel resentful towards Lydia, as if she is the one spoiling my happiness and my idea of the future.

“Did you see the creepy pale ringmaster guy?” Lydia says, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“What?” I snap, ready to defend him. He was far from creepy! He made me feel alive, like my life suddenly has meaning. It was as if he woke me up from a long slumber. In those moments we were together, we were one. We shared every emotion together as if an invisible string was tying our hearts together. There was a shift in the atmosphere that told me my life would never be the same. I wonder if the thought sounds childish, if I’m being immature and overdramatic. But it’s how I feel. No one can change that.

I think I am in love with him.

I know I am in love with him, but I can’t tell Lydia.

I need to treasure this moment, this memory. I try not to focus on what will happen when the circus leaves or allow Lydia to ruin the good night.

When the circus leaves.

No .

I can’t think about that.

I need to focus on the conversation again and distract myself from that heart-dropping, devastating idea.

“I didn’t see him.” I lie. “When did you see him?” I question, a feeling of jealously creeping up inside of me.

“When I first walked in. It’s not hard to spot the ringmaster when he’s wearing that foolish suit. The whole thing was absurd. I am glad we never spent money on it.”

“I liked it.” I admit.

“I feel like you loved the circus.” She stops, her hands on her hips as she pouts at me.

“Not really,” I lie again. “I just liked some of the people.”

She looks at me up and down, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Hm.” She clicks her tongue and I am wondering what on earth could be running through that mind of hers. Money? Men? It’s usually one of the two.

“You walk home, I forgot something.” She starts walking away quickly as if she’s on a mission.

“Wait, what did you forget?”

“Just go home,” she shouts back.

“It’s dark, what about me? What about you?”

“Bloody hell, Renée, are you a child? No. Grow up and walk home. You’ll be fine and so will I.” Her voice is high pitched and I feel a sudden rush of hate swim through me. Why is she always so hostile? I wonder if she forgot to ask for the name of the man she spent the night with .

I am sure it’s nothing important.

I trip and stumble as I finally get out of the woodland and onto the dirt path that leads to my house. I am relieved to see it in sight after walking home alone in the dark.

A rare feeling for me. The little house I’ve called home all my life has never felt like a safe place. I’ve never been relieved to see it after a long day out. Inside it belongs my bed, though, a very small space that is my own. Plus, it’s not a good idea to be out near the woodland alone at night. So many dangerous people and creatures live in these woods. It’s no place for a lone woman.

Looking at the tiny house which appears ready to collapse anytime soon, I think of the ones no longer here.

My mother and grandparents died shortly after the birth of Lydia. Flu got them, and it got them bad. The flu had never killed anyone before. It was a scary time for everyone in town.

My dad became a single father and he struggled. I understand he has it tough, of course I do. However, he has always treated Lydia as the favourite, as if he loved her so much more. I have always seemed to be some kind of frustrating burden. It was like he blamed me for the flu, like I caught it and threw it at my mother to kill her.

Without a mum, without my grandparents, I don’t really have anyone.

I spent most of my childhood farming and selling our goods in the town. My childhood was focused on earning money, and when I wasn’t doing that, I was in the library trying to learn.

I never had time to make friends. Dad worked too. Fixing houses in town and helping build new paths, mostly. Between us, we made enough money to live comfortably. We may not eat luxury foods, but we have food.

Lydia didn’t do anywhere near as much work as me. Dad refused to listen when I questioned him. How unfair it felt, how unfair it still feels, when I am making us dinner and she’s sitting relaxing with her friends. Friends which could have been mine too if I had the privilege of free time. It seems Lydia made friends with the richer folk in town, which makes her believe we are poor rather than comfortable. Her constant pleas for more made Dad believe this too. A bat of her eyelids and he’d be apologising that he didn’t have enough money to buy her the things she wanted.

I attended a town council meeting to see if there would be help for the less fortunate. The leader of our world even attended. It was a surprise to see him. He spoke so confidently. He told us the issue was overpopulation. Too many people to feed, too many families having more and more children. He said he’d focus on solving this issue in the years to come.

I take a deep breath as I finally push open the door. I am surprised to see Dad still awake, sitting on one of the chairs with a glass of water in his hand.

“Where is Lydia?” he asks quickly, as if disappointed the least favourite daughter walked through the door instead .

“She went back to the circus,” I shrug my shoulders to indicate I have no idea why.

“So, she is walking back alone?” he questions.

“Yes,” I sigh. “She told me to walk back alone so she could sort something out. She was rather persistent.”

Dad doesn’t even look at me as he gets up and puts his glass back on the table.

“I’ll go and meet her,” he says, and out the door he goes.

I have a feeling it wouldn’t be the same reaction if it was the other way around. I haven’t got the energy for this, though; the night has exhausted me and I want to think about Phoenix. I want to dream up scenarios of a life together. The idea makes the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I’ve soon forgotten about Lydia and Dad.

I struggle to sleep as I tease myself with thoughts of Phoenix. I’ve never made love with a man, but the thought of it with him makes my stomach tingle in a funny way. I don’t just care about the idea of sex, though. I felt so safe and comforted when I was with him. I long to feel safe. To be loved.

It was like we already knew each other and my mind can’t let that thought go.

I pretend to be asleep as I hear Dad and Lydia finally open the door and walk inside the house.

“What did he say then? Did he say he would? Did he say how much he would give?” Dad frets.

“He didn’t say much really, just that he would consider it.”

“Is this the right choice, Lydia? Really? ”

“Absolutely. It will help us a lot and it’s not a loss to us really, is it?” Her voice sounds bitter.

I wonder what they’re talking about. I’d only be told off if I got up and asked.

“It’s not a loss to us, is it?” Lydia repeats. She has so much power and authority in her voice. I am surprised she is speaking to our father. It sounds like she is talking to a toddler.

“I am not sure,” he mutters.

“It’s not, not at all, we need this, Dad.” Her voice softens. “Me and you.”

Ouch.

What about me? Whatever they’re talking about down there… how do I come into it?

I try not to dwell on it, though I have no idea what they’re talking about. Perhaps she is trying to convince Dad to move, to find a better a job, anything to bring us more money.

I am sure I have nothing to worry about.

Phoenix is all I can think about now anyway.