Finding the Pure Note

Leaving Only Broken Notes

She says nothing as she moves past me, retrieving a collection of papers from on top of the fridge, the place where all the important documents and letters are kept for quick referral. I suppose that's not the best place, but so far nothing serious had been lost. Well maybe a few excursion notices, but nothing life-threatening.

As she sorts through the pile on her trek back to the table, she removes two pieces of paper in particular and lays them down on the table with surgical precision.

Gulping, I walk over, feeling as if I'm wading through water. Okay, so if this isn't about Fletcher, what is it exactly?

She nods in the direction of the papers, that same severity in her eyes. I feel my insides do a backflip and I lick my lips. I am doing very poorly in my attempt to stem my nerves, and as my eyes fall upon the first paper, I feel sweat begin to form.

I scan over the two pages quickly, not needing the finer details. The major focus is written out in what might as well be big red letters saying 'you're screwed.'

"I can't deal with this," mum hums softly, an almost accusatory tone there. "The bills are piling up: the longer your father's in hospital—big fricking surprise, the bigger these numbers get. Now I could deal with that if I felt we were in a comfortable position, but I just... I just can't say that."

I meet her eyes then, bewilderment marking mine. She remains as stoic as ever.

"I need your support," she continues, her eyes pressing harder into me with every moment. I avoid them, the coward I am. "Yours and Hunter's. Now Hunter can be hard at times, but he gets this. He's there first thing every morning by your father's side, helping me in the kitchen. Look, I'm not expecting you to throw aside everything and be my slave, but a little more appreciation will be... well, appreciated."

I draw in air though my teeth, biting back irritation. "Appreciation?" I mutter. "What...?"

"What's most important is that you get into a good university, get a good job. You could help out then with your father, you know, be in a stable position so I don't have the weight of the world on my back. Instead, you're wasting away your days with Fletcher."

The weight of it all crashes down on me. For all the pleasantries, Fletcher is just a fucking snake to you, isn't he?!

"Fletcher?" I say through gritted teeth. "What's Fletcher gotta do with this?"

"You should be studying, honey. Instead, I find you joking around and—fuffing about when I need you to focus on your studies."

I glare at her, throwing a hand up in frustration. "You had no objection to him the other day; you practically encouraged us to go out and have fun. And you haven't said no to him staying over the past two bloody nights!"

She seems to quiver back but then springs forward. "I know," she says through bated breath. "I know, and I've allowed it so far, because he's your friend, and you deserve a break. Lord knows we all deserve a holiday in fricking Spain! But that doesn't mean I want to see him over every other day when you both should be studying for exams!"

"It's called balance, mum, and I've managed it just fine so far, haven't I?!"

Mum's fingers pass over the pile of papers as if ready to select her next mode of attack. Instead, her response is sharp, sudden. "I got a call from the school this morning. They said that you were absent yesterday afternoon. Your teachers were concerned."

I scoff it off, though inside I feel my stomach sinking. I anticipated this. Even so...

"Okay," I huff. "So we ditched classes. I was stressed; I couldn't focus!"