Page 1 of When We Were Young

Emily

‘Cheesecake!’ I yell at Liv. She can’t hear me, so I roll down the window and try again. ‘Cheesecake!’

Oblivious, she saunters towards the car, her eyes fixed on her phone, thumbs a blur as she types. She’s got earphones in, for God’s sake. I wait for her to open the car door and get close enough for me to lean over and yank her sleeve.

She jumps out of her skin and glares at me. ‘What?’ she says, pulling out an earphone.

‘I asked you to bring the cheesecake from the fridge.’

She tuts, slams the door, and turns back to the house.

She’s inside for ages. What’s she doing in there? My fingernails dig into the steering wheel. We’ll be late for dinner now, and my mother won’t let me hear the end of it.

When she finally emerges, I’m surprised at how tall she is, how much older than fifteen she looks. It’s as though she went in that door a child and came out an adult. I get a brief pang of sorrow. I miss my little girl.

Liv is still texting as she strolls back down the path. She gets in the car, puts the dessert box in the footwell, and fastens her seatbelt, all with her eyes glued to her phone.

‘What?’ she asks when she notices we’re still stationary.

‘How many times have I told you? No headphones when we’re together. It’s anti-social.’

‘But I want to listen to music.’

‘So, play it through the speakers.’

As I pull away, she rummages in the glove box for the cable and connects her phone to the car stereo.

‘How was school today?’ I ask.

‘Huh?’

‘How was school?’

‘Fine.’

‘What did you have today?’

‘What?’

‘What lessons did you have?’

‘I dunno. The usual. Maths? English?’

I give up. She’s too engrossed in scrolling through her vast music library, the phone lighting up her face. We’ll be there before she chooses a song.

‘Loads of kids from school are going to Beatland in the summer,’ she says out of the blue.

I know where this is heading. ‘You’re too young for festivals, Olivia.’

‘But everyone’s going.’

‘No way. You’re only fifteen.’

‘I’ll be sixteen by then.’

I raise my eyebrows at her.

‘I’ll ask Dad then,’ she says.

‘He doesn’t make the decisions, Liv. I do.’

Sensibly, she changes the subject. ‘I heard the most amazing song today. I’ll play it for you.’

As I flip the indicator and turn left, the car fills with music. Within the first few notes, I recognise the song and it’s like a punch to the solar plexus. I can’t breathe.

‘Turn it off!’ I croak, but my voice is drowned out as she turns up the volume.

A bird in a cage,

A butterfly on a pin,

It fills me with rage,

It’s such a terrible sin––

‘Liv, turn it off! Now!’

The headlights of the oncoming car dazzle me.

Through the glare, I see a silhouette stark against the bright lights of a stage.

I blink, and the image disappears. The car veers left, a lamppost looming in my line of vision.

I throw my left arm across Liv. Brakes screech.

My body strains against the seatbelt. Metal crunches.

Airbags burst in my face and throw me back in my seat.

The music stops. The car is silent. I turn to my daughter, wrestle the airbags out of the way, and pray I haven’t killed another person I love.