Well then, love, this is your new room. Make yourself at home.
Emma took a few hesitant steps. A bed draped in a ridiculous, fluffy coverlet stood beneath a sleek desk with a laptop perched on it. A mirrored wardrobe loomed nearby, its doors reflecting a rectangular rug patterned with geometric shapes. Everything was meticulously styled, expensive, nothing like the cramped attic shed left behind.
Her father, Andrew, lugged two massive suitcases filled with Emmas belongings and set them beside the wardrobe.
Youll sort it out yourself?
Of course! He didnt expect her to ask for help, did he?
Lucy appeared, balancing a strange flower with long, narrow leaves, and placed it on the windowsill.
I thought it would look splendid here.
She smiled warmly at Emma, who stood there, glum and silent.
Lets go, Sam,
Emma placed a hand on her fathers shoulder and guided him toward the door.
Settle in, she whispered, gently closing the door behind her.
Settle in, Emma echoed in her mind, a hollow chant. A wave of melancholy washed over her; the room felt cold. She collapsed onto the bed, turned toward the wall, curled into a ball, hugging her knees, and shut her eyes.
Mother, mother! Why? We were always together, and now youve left me. Why didnt you go to the hospital straight away? Why did you drag me into this?
For the past ten years Emma had been a true mummys girl. After her mothers death she had barely seen her father. Evenings with mum, the television glow, the smell of fresh bake and hot tea were now only memories. Now she lived with strangers. Andrew never called her by her name, merely daughter. The word dad felt clumsy on her tongue.
She imagined wealthy men remarrying after divorce to glamorous models, their lips perfectly sculpted, but Lucy was different: young, short, bobcut hair, running a modest legal firm. She was clever, businesslike, not at all like mums warm kitchen. The house once smelled of pies and roast, now Lucy often ordered takeaway.
Did she arrange this décor for me? Most likely. Not my father. She has decent taste. Emma ran a hand over the soft, longpile covering, something shed never owned before.
At her new school Emma quickly made friends, largely because of her fathers money and her striking looks. The girls decided it was easier to be allies than rivals. Previously Emmas only close person had been mum; now she delighted in the new crowd, feeling understood and needed. For the first time she tasted boys attention and felt a secret thrill.
At first she truly suffered, the class treating her as a halforphan, forced to live with a cold stepmother and a father she barely liked. She embraced that role, feeding it deliberately. She didnt hear a classmate whisper to the boys:
Whys she always talking about her stepmother? My mums friend works for her and says shes a decent lady.
When Emma first came home very late, Andrew said:
Sweetheart, I know you want to spend time with your friends, so I didnt call. But please dont stay out so late. Deal?
Emma said nothing, retreating to her room.
The next time the group planned a night out, she switched her phone off. At home her father waited, his expression ominous.
If it happens again, Ill take action, he warned.
Emma shot him a sharp glance, marched exaggeratedly into her room where Lucy sat on the bed. She rose at the girls entrance.
I wanted to talk to you.
Emma stayed silent, her eyes screaming What else do you want? Lucy stumbled, losing some of her resolve.
Hes worried about you, Emma.
Im almost sixteen! Emma snapped.
She began returning home on time to avoid angering her father. She plotted a sweet sixteenth birthday, planning to celebrate with friends. Her older brothers friend, Max, promised them a flat. She had a crush on a boy she liked and dreamed of a private moment with him.
Daughter, Lucy booked a table for tomorrow. Well mark your birthday. Invite your friends if you like.
A restaurant? With you? I was going to celebrate with my mates!
When did you plan to tell us?
I dont know maybe tomorrow.
So on the day itself. Fine, you can host it here; Lucy will handle the food.
Emmas stomach dropped. Everything was almost ready. Maxs flat would provide the booze. The idea of a dull night at the parental house made her laugh at herself. She left for school, muttering shed think of something.
Later, in the hallway, a harsh light flooded the entry. Andrew stood, fury blazing.
What do you think youre doing?!
He stepped closer, sensing the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke on her.
Who do you think you are, I ask!
He raised his hand, ready to strike.
Sam!
Lucy appeared behind him. Emma looked up and saw Lucys terrified eyes, mascara smeared from recent tears.
Lucy gently pushed Andrew aside, took Emmas shoulders, and led her to a quiet room.
Tell me quickly, has anyone hurt you? Did something bad happen? she whispered.
Emma shook her head.
No, its fine.
Ill speak to your father. How can I help now?
Bring me a drink.
Lucy told Andrew everything was okay, while he hovered nervously at the door. When Lucy returned, Emma, still in her nightclothes, was already fast asleep.
She smelled of booze! Did you notice? Andrew shouted as Lucy tried to discuss Emmas situation.
Of course. Imagine yourself at sixteen.
And what? Shes just a girl!
Right. Think of your peers. Emmas clever, but her friends now mean more to her than us. Give her space. Her world changed in an instant; perhaps thats how she copes.
Cope with what? She has everything food, clothes, a roof. Ill grant any whim!
Sam! Dont play the fool! She lost her mother. All she needs now is love and attention, which she seeks in her circle. Maybe shes getting it. Something happened today, perhaps a fight?
I dont know, Andrew sighed, shoulders slumping. I never imagined it would be this hard.
And what about me? Lucy smiled, hugging her husband and planting a kiss on his forehead. Dont worry. Well manage together.
In the morning Lucy entered Emmas room. Emma lay awake, eyes wide.
How do you feel? Does your head hurt?
Lucy pulled back the curtains.
Here, she handed Emma a glass of water.
Emma sat up, drank greedily.
Why did you look after me yesterday?
Well, I was sixteen once too. By the way, happy birthday.
Emma stayed silent.
Do you hate me?
Because of your father.
Thats not true. We met a year after he left.
Exactly! What if he returned?
Lucy sighed.
Its never simple, Emma. People often cant reconnect after a split.
Why not? Whats stopping it? People like you? My mum was wonderful!
Your mum was brilliant! Lucy reached for Emmas hand, but she pulled away. Adult relationships have problems. Some get solved, some dont, and parting is sometimes kinder than endless suffering. No single guilty party.
And me? What am I guilty of? He didnt care about me!
Thats not true. He tried to provide everything you needed, kept up with your life.
He didnt want to see me!
He wanted to. He thought youd be better off with your mum.
Lucy didnt mention that Emmas mother had asked her exhusband not to get involved with Emma after they married. She feared Emma would cling too much to her father, selfishly wanting all the love for herself. Andrew had given up after the first big blowout.
He loves you a lot. Youre just growing up.
Lucy placed her palm on Emmas shoulder. This time Emma didnt pull away.
So if the boy I liked showed up at my birthday with another girl and announced he was breaking up with me, is he the only one to blame?
Hmm. Think about it. Did he say anything else?
He called me overthinking.
See?
Suddenly Emma yearned for a hug, for someone to make her a little girl again, to dissolve the ache in her chest from yesterdays betrayal. Lucy seemed to sense it and pressed the crying girl close.
EmmaEmma, I cant replace your mum, but Id like to be a friend. I fell in love at sixteen, too. He was a year older, then I learned he was seeing another girl from the next school.
What a bastard! What did you do?
We both broke up with him.
Where was my fault?
I spent too much time on my studies.
They laughed, a sudden lightness breaking the gloom. Both felt a stride toward closeness.
Listen, Lucy said. Lets both take the day off. You go to school, Ill finish work, and well spend some of your dads money. Deal?
Emma managed a hesitant smile.
All right! I talked to him yesterday. He said we could pick any gift for you. Ready?
The two chattered excitedly about shopping and the day ahead, when a violent jolt shook the car, twisting it. A deafening screech of brakes filled the air, followed by another, softer thump as if someone had pounded the vehicle from outside, then silence.
Dad! Dad, were in the hospital!
Half an hour later Emma saw her fathers silhouette at the end of a sterile corridor and waved.
Emma!
Andrew rushed to her side.
Are you alright? Any cuts?
He examined her from head to toe, finding bruises on her face and hands.
Does it hurt? Oh my God, Emma, I was terrified
Its nothing, Dad, Im fine.
Andrew froze, eyes wide, voice trembling.
Wheres Lucy?
In the ward. The impact came from her side. Some lunatic crashed into us. Shes alive, Dad!
He pulled her close, her grip loosening as he steadied himself. She pressed her head against his shoulder.
Im ashamed of yesterday.
He stroked her back, uncertain.
Stop it. Lets forget everything, okay?
Emma nodded. A doctor entered.
Are you his wife?
Yes. What happened to her?
Severe bruising and shock. The airbag did its job. Shell be fine. The most important thing is the child is unharmed.
The child? Andrew looked bewildered at Emma. Yes, the child is fine.
The doctor gave a faint smile and left.
As if I cant see my childs fine, Andrew muttered under his breath. He hugged Emma again.
Dad, didnt you get the part about the baby?
What?
Andrew stared, confused. Emma rolled her eyes.
Im getting a brother or sister soon!
