Page 30 of Swallow Your Sorries

Behind her, two younger girls trickle out of the car. They’re carbon copies of who I presume is their big sister. They stroll past Mum and me without the slightest bit of interest in us, despite my gawking at their beauty. Noses in the air, they file into the courtyard, the heels of their loafers clicking up the stone steps.

“Not yet,” I admit, watching as the older girl air kisses the younger two before heading off in the opposite direction. “But I will. I’m determined to make this work. I have to.”

Mum smiles weakly. “I want you to have what you want, Ellie. Really I do, even if I don’t understand it, or rather I feel like a fish out of water.”

She never understood ballet either, but she always supported me, even allowing me to return to the town she’d feared for the past two years. Sure, I can argue that at eighteen the decision isn’t up to her anyway. I’m an adult now, and with or without her permission, I’m attending the academy. Just like I put my foot down to do that news interview to bring awareness to my old school’s defunded dance program. She’d nearly had a stroke then.

Still, her pushbacks had only been out of fear, not because she was trying to crush my dreams of becoming a pro ballerina-like everyone else who mocked me.

For once, I feel like she’s putting my happiness first.

Because Jarett isn’t around to put him first. I shake away the intrusive thought.

She isn’t perfect, and neither is our relationship, but she’strying.She’s healing and I hope this new space will allow us both to blossom despite past transgressions.

Maybe a year of a budget eat, pray, love journey will finally make her realise that she needs to divorce Jarett and say goodbye. Forever.

“I have something for you,” Mum sniffs, digging into her pocket. When she fishes it out, my breath catches at the sight of a golden necklace with a ceramic ballet slipper charm. It’s handmade, with tiny imperfections that make it absolutely perfect. Carved into the back is a tiny tree with a jumping fish over it.

“The gold isn’t real,” Mum says hastily as if to quell my bubbling excitement, but it can’t be dampened. “I know you’ve always wanted one. When I can, I’ll swap it for the real thing.”

I’d desperately wanted a necklace like this since I was eight, up until I turned twelve. Thirteen-year-old me probably would’ve said it was too babyish and that the same girls that rocked it a year prior would make fun of me. But eighteen-year-old me already craves these micro bites of nostalgia, that innocent, untarnished girlishness as I ease into new adulthood.

“I don’t care if it’s made of tinfoil. I love it,” I say, sweeping my hair to the side and allowing her to fasten the clasp behind my neck. “I’ll paint the links with clear nail polish when I get settled.”

Mum’s smile tells me she’s both embarrassed and relieved by my reaction and it breaks my heart as I fiddle with the pink charm.

“Why didn’t you tell me you joined a ceramics class again?” I ask softly.

Apparently, ceramics was Mum’s calling before she ever had me. Or at least, it used to be. Still, she’s always making things. Even if they’re just paper stars, her fingers are always in motion.

I think back to her mug, the one with the red-haired little girl she’d painstakingly glued back together. I know it’s a dream of hers to follow in your parent’s footsteps. Well, perceived footsteps.

“I didn’t actually,” she says with a blush. “The first class is free to test out. I’m still not sure if I can justify the cost.”

“I don’t see how you can’t justify it. It’s your personal therapy. An essential. With me gone, the laundry and food bills will drop by half and some funds can be shifted around. You deserve it.”

Mum smiles, but it’s bittersweet as she gestures around us. “And you deserve this, and so much more. Way more than I…than I could ever give you.”

Tears well in my eyes again. “I can’t cry in front of the whole school already,” I say, pulling her into a hug. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too, Elle Bell.”

I squeeze her tighter before pulling away. “I wish the flat was closer so I could visit on the weekends.”

“I know. I’m still looking around for closer options, but to be honest, I don’t want to move too close to the city limits, nor do I want you to leave the campus often. The school’s crawling with security guards and staff, so I have some peace of mind that you’ll be safe here. But me? In some dinky apartment all alone? No, I better play it safe in the next town over.”

“Mum—”

She shakes her head, and her ginger bob flutters with it. “They could still be watching us. We have to be careful.”

I know she means the Auclairs and I struggle to not roll my eyes.

“We’ve never heard a word from the Auclairs, or Jarett, for that matter. Maybe he made all that stuff up? Or maybe the Auclairs gave him a little fright, so he’d disappear on his own?”

“That family is dangerous. You’re too young to know their past reputation. I remember one summer when I was eight, it was like the Bloody Valentine’s Day massacre all over again.” She closes her eyes as if to blink away the memory before gazing at me seriously. “Your father is many things, but not a good actor. He was scared shitless, Elle. In all my years of being with Jarett, I’ve never seen him cry like a little girl.”

I’d never seen Jarett cry, period, and I hoped to never see him again.

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