Page 239 of Swallow Your Sorries

“I didn’t have to be.”

More cars come into the lot.

More parents stream past our windows. Some hand in hand, just like Mum envisioned her and Jarett.

“Why? Why do you need his approval so badly? Why do you need him so badly? Because it can’t be him that you’re desperate for. It must be what he represents and for the death of me, I can’t figure out what the fuck that could be besides bumminess.”

“Elle!”

“What? Literally what? Why can’t I ever speak to you candidly about this? Oh, that’s right. It’s because you love living in some alternative universe. Look at you. Look—” I turn to grab a handful of scratches from the back seat and that’s when I notice the stacks of trash bags hidden behind my own chair.

I dig my fingernail into the squishy mound and see clothes, dishes, and a toaster oven I’d gotten us for Christmas last year.

“I knew it,” I say slowly turning to her, but she has no answers for me. “You got evicted. You got us evicted.”

“Ellie—”

“Don’t call me Ellie!” It feels like the heat of a thousand suns is raging through my body as I scream the words, spittle flying out along with the fire. “You said you were going to pay your rent until the end of the year with the money that you won.”

“I…”

But as I scan the back again, there’s more than closed bags. There are open ones she’s clearly been using regularly. Like the opened bag with her toiletries and food and dirty dishes…because she didn’t just pack up recently…the clothes strewn on the floor are recently used. I recognize them from her IG.

“You…” I lower my voice. “You’ve been living in the car for weeks, haven’t you?”

Silence.

“But…your official eviction date was this morning. You…you moved out before then? But…the landlord said you never opened the letter. How did you know—”

“How did you know that Elle?” she asks, and has the audacity to look angry. “That witch called you, didn’t she?”

“She’s a witch?” I ask incredulously. “You’re the one flying all over the city on your broom! Is that it? You moved out all on your own because you needed to be closer to town? Closer to the Watering Hole? What the hell were you thinking?!”

“I wasn’t!” she screeches back before clasping her head in her hands as if holding it would help it to retain more common sense.

“You said we would have movie night knowing we have no home? No place to go?”

A sob.

“You said you’d spend the money wisely. You said…”

What did it matter what she said? Her words mean nothing.

“Did you seriously just blow it on scratchers and beer? On band tees and concerts?” I gaze down at my stockings, the ones Mum bought me off my wish list, and suddenly guilt contaminates my anger. “You didn’t have to get me all this ballet stuff if it meant not handling the bills first.”

She shakes her head. “That stuff was less than a hundred dollars, and you deserve it, Elle. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to ship it yet.” She reaches for a tiny plastic bag in the glove box and hands it to me. Plastic…a plastic bag….not the beautiful white box I got under the staircase. “Here.”

I stare at the thin plastic for the longest time before opening it with trembling fingers. There are three leotards that are so thin I can see my pale fingers shining through the fabric. These hadn’t even been on my list. The colours are all wrong for the advanced class. She hadn’t even looked at it.

All my skin and hair care products. All my new dance equipment. All my blue jelly pads and pointe shoes, heck, even my tampons, all Gant.

He knew I thought Mum bought them all, and he let me believe it just so I’d wear them. Even though he wouldn’t get the credit.

He didn’t care about getting the credit.

And I don’t care about having designer things, but I couldn’t wear these leotards without getting kicked out of class for indecent exposure, which I’d been on the cusp of when I wore Aria’s leotard. I turn the white leo over in my arms and note the lack of a tag. No, I don’t need designer clothing, but don’t I deserve quality? Like panties that could withstand three washes before the elastic band stretched out. Maybe Gant was right again. I was conditioned to accept what I was given and equated it with my worth. Old Elle would’ve been happy with just getting the leotards at all. I would’ve worn two of them to increase the thickness. I would’ve made it work.

But I shouldn’t have to.

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