Page 15 of Swallow Your Sorries

But the suitcase…You don’t get to wear your own clothes in jail…

Normally Mum would jump to Jarett’s defence and snap at me in the process, but she doesn’t spare me a second glance as she crawls around on her hands and knees, securing every bill. When she’s collected them all, she finally speaks reluctantly. “There’s an inappropriate video going around. People are alleging that your father is in it.”

Damn, the internet works fast. Who the fuck is Beaussip? And why does every student at the dance academy follow him or her?

Then again, why does it matter? This is good, right? I don’t have to spill the beans personally. I don’t have to be the bad guy.

“Have you seen it?” I ask quietly as she loops a rubber band over the bills. Jarett couldn’t have known he’d been sleeping on top of that much cash this whole time. If he had, they’d already be spent on enough alcohol and buffalo chicken wings to put him in a coma for the weekend.

Good thing he barely flushed his shit, much less changed the bedsheets.

She nods, a hiccup bubbling in her throat.

“And? If you watched it, how can you say it’s all alleged?”

“I-I can’t be sure. I mean, the video’s fuzzy—”

She…she has her out, and she’sstilltaking up for him? Still making excuses?

“There’s a hammerhead shark tattoo on his neck,” I blurt.

Her eyes finally flicker to mine. “You, you watched that…that filthy—”

“Pornoyourhusband made atmydance school? Trust me, it wasn’t by choice.”

“Ellie—”

I raise a hand to stop her.Ellieis always her bullshit segway into excuselandia.

I can’t believe I was stupid enough to think that the video would finally open her eyes.

“It’s him,” I say bluntly. “I know it’s him.”

She stares at me, wringing the money in her hands before tossing it into her purse. “Look Elle, your father’s a lot of things but this…”

I gaze at her incredulously. “He’s an abuser. An alcoholic. A gambler! Do you think he’s above cheating on you? In public? With my teacher?”

“Ellie—”

“He’s a murderer, for fuck’s sake. He kicked babies out of your—”

“That’s enough! I had miscarriages! Your father had nothing to do with it.”

LIAR!

I gawk at her and the room, no, theentire worldswims around her form like some upside-down, alternative universe where nothing makes sense because this cannot be real life. She cannot be a real person. None of this can be real.

“Why are you like this?” I ask with genuine curiosity. “Why will you defend that piece of shit to the ends of the earth?”

“Elle—”

“It’s him!” My shriek takes her by such surprise that she doesn’t shush me. It winds me, however, and I slump down the wall to the fugly moss-green carpet as my ribs scream bloody murder. “I saw him, Mum. At the studio, in the shower, with my own eyes. Instead of picking me up, he was fucking Ma—”

She flies towards me so fast I don’t have time to brace myself before her clammy hand clamps over my mouth. My body shrieks louder, hot tears burning my eyes.

She doesn’t notice.

Or rather, she doesn’t care.

---