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Whatever correspondence I’d had with him prior to my mum passing, quickly vanished when I went back to Australia.
I wish I’d have been older. Then I never would’ve left. I love Australia, and I always will, but all it reminds me of is the memories of my grandmother. Of the way she fought for me to live with her — and there I was thinking she actually cared — only to learn that it was all about money and control. That’s all anything in life is about, right?
The minute I was back, things only went from bad to worse. My grandmother had always looked down on my mum for getting pregnant at fifteen — and I get it — but what the fuck did I do? I didn’t ask to be born. I didn’t mean to hold my mother back from reaching her dreams. All I ever wanted was to be close to her. And over the years I’ve learned that my mum was just a by-product of everything my grandma taught her.
I promised myself even then that if I ever had a kid, I would never make him or her feel the way I did. Like they’re a nuisance. A spare part. Something to be seen and not heard.
Stand up straight, Charlize.
Do not answer me in that tone, young lady, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap — oh and she did, plenty of times.
The least I can do after your mother married that awful man is to show you proper etiquette, Charlize. You will do as I say, or so help me…
Grandma’s favourite punishment of choice was the kettle cord. She didn’t abuse me often, but when she did, I learned to suppress everything deep inside.
Only when I met my best friend, Ariana, in Seattle, and later Imogen in college, did I slowly open up.
I owe everything to them. My confidence was shot by the time I landed in Seattle. Somehow I’d managed to snaffle an exchange student program my university was organizing. It was my one chance at escaping. Since I was already eighteen, there wasn’t much my grandmother could do. It was the best thing I ever did and I never looked back.
If dear old grandma could see me now. I chuckle at the thought. If only.
She’d never approve. And my mother? I feel like I barely know the answer to that. She’s like a ghost. A woman I barely remember. Only in my dreams.
I imagine that she’s sorry for leaving me. That she loved me deep down. That I wasn’t the burden and disappointment that Grandma said I was for years and years.
That she’s proud of me… she just never got the chance to say so.
Of course, this is an indulgent fantasy, one I’ve recreated many times.
I sit on the end of my bed and wonder how the fuck I’m going to manage the bills this month.
Chelsea, the girl who has the lease on the apartment, just presented me with not only the month's rent, but also electricity and gas, needless to say I’m a little short on cash.
We pay for our own food, but food money is the last thing on the agenda. Sometimes I get to take food home from work — if Lochie, an Aussie chef who likes me — is working, but he’s only on three nights a week.
Raman noodles have saved me on more than one occasion. Rice is another cheap staple that I buy in bulk.
Both of my friends are with wealthy men, and have money in their own right. I know if I asked them for a loan, they’d give it to me, but my pride always gets in the way.
I’ve bragged about this trip for so long. I saved for ages to be able to afford the plane ticket. And when I finally picked the date, they were so happy for me.
I know if I told the two of them what I was considering, they’d be slightly horrified.
But I’d be lying if I said it was just about the money.
The idea intrigues me. I’m not even embarrassed to admit that it turns me on. Big time.
I know Neve made it sound all cushy and amazing. I’m not an idiot. I know that for a lot of girls in the industry, it isn’t like that. But maybe Neve is right. Maybe Élégance is different?
I sit on the edge of the bed with a £5 note in my hand. That’s what I have left until next week. And when I do get paid fortnightly, I have to keep money aside for the end of the month.
There are no trips to Paris.
No dining out with friends — not that I know anyone aside from Chelsea and Olivia. The girls that I work with have asked me out on a couple of occasions, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I can’t afford it.
I also can’t afford to get out of this dive.
Then there’s the idea that I could go back to Seattle. Imogen and Ariana both have nice places that I could bunk in with until I got back on my feet. That isn’t a problem.
