Page 12 of House of Bass

She had been somewhat prepared to meet him, going over in her mind what the first thing she would say to him would be but now she felt like she was being thrown blindly into unfamiliar depths. She wasn’t ready for this. After a minute of internal dilemma, Harley asked, “Well… what is she like?”

A mocking scoff escaped the girl’s lips, “I will give you the great pleasure of finding out for yourself. ”

Harley detected animosity in that vague reply. Therefore, it did nothing to ease her mind. It was the only thing she could think about even as they stepped out of the plane and into the tinted dark green car they were currently in.

She couldn’t help but peer out the window, looking at London with amazement, silently pointing out each landmark they drove past. There was a bubble of excitement lodged in between the anxiousness. The sky had fallen and it had gotten dark, so a lot of the city was endowed with beautiful artificial lighting even as they drove into the street that read Stanley Crescent. There were endless rows of townhouses far bigger than she had ever seen in her life.

The floors weren’t dirty and the street was quiet; nothing but the faint hum of the wind and Harley couldn’t help but already feel out of place. The feeling from earlier overwhelmed her once again, the one where she had entered a world she would never feel comfortable or a part of.

“We’re here,” Posy said when they stopped in front of one of the houses. Though it was late, she could see the cream coloured brick walls and the white of the architectural trim and decorative moldings. Harley carried her bag out with her as she started to wonder what she was walking into.

Posy must’ve seen the worry written on her, so she leaned out the window and said, “Let me offer you a piece of advice: enjoy this. Forget the past and focus on now, don’t let anyone or anything hold you back. You have lived too hard a life that no twenty year old should’ve had to, it’s now time for you.

“It was nice to properly meet you, Harley,” she ended with a wink, which surprised Harley, before the windows pulled back up and the car drove away. Leaving Harley and her bag stood on the pavement, solemn in the wake of the car fumes.

When she finally had the guts to move, she trudged up the stairs and knocked on the door. The girl who was allegedly her sister looked different to the pictures she had seen, she seemed much more muted than what she had known the girl to be. It could also be due to the fact that she looked like she had just been awoken. Her eyes were a blue so deep the light above reflected brighter in them, making them appear like the ocean. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Harley. Apparently, I’m your sister,” she replied. It took a moment but recognition dawned on her and she was at a loss for words.

“You’re her…” she trailed off, staring at her without saying a word. There was an internal war waging inside her but Harley breaks her moment to say, “Are you going to let me in or should I continue to freeze out here?”

“Sorry, Sorry. Yes, come inside.” Her fluster made Harley feel significantly better knowing she wasn’t in this state of purgatory alone. She stepped inside and tried not to marvel at its size, she was certain the flat back home could fit in here and still have some left over. She turned to the girl, whose trepidation was plain as day, and she couldn’t but feel an overwhelming sense of resentment for the girl who got to have everything.

“I’m Annabel. As I’m sure you know.”

“I didn’t know that.” She did.

“Really? Everyone knows who I am,” Annabel said, her head tilted, genuinely confused. Harley couldn't help but fear she had ended up with a shallow barbie for a sister.

“I don’t.”

“That’s perfectly okay,” she concluded, continuing to fumble over her words and their conversation continued with few words and answers. Harley wanted to escape this situation imminently.

“Did you drive here?”

“No… I don't own a car. Posy was the one who dropped me at your front door,”

“That makes sense,” Annabel said, rolling her eyes, the first sign of life from her, and it almost made her cheer even as Harley realised the animosity from Posy wasn’t one sided.

She showed her to the living room, Annabel sat on one of the shorter of the three sofas on the far end of the room, while Harley sat on the longer one on the other end. They sat in silence and Harley couldn't tell, at this moment, which was worse because she was starting to miss the short answers.

She could tell something ate at the other girl–she tugged on the ends of her hair and Harley was sure she didn’t even notice she was doing it. How odd . And she was proven correct when not a second later, Annabel burst out, “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

“Twenty,” she answered.

A sound escaped Annabel, a cross between a dying cat or choking on an apple. “Another question, when is your birthday?”

“20th of December,” Harley slowly said, entirely bewildered by what was happening in front of her as another sound, even worse than the last, left Annabel. Harley was confused as to why every answer to the questions left Annabel visibly cracking in front of her. Suddenly, she smiled cheerily, but it made her appear like she was short-circuiting as her eyes shined with unfallen tears, “Let me make you a cup of tea.”

“Don’t w-” Harley started but Annabel had already launched off the chair and hightailed it out of the room, and she spent a second dumbfounded. Her mother would have made some quip about white people and that thought subdued her. She wondered what her mother was doing right now… Posy had her throw away her old phone so she couldn’t contact her, or vice versa, but she had her number memorised so it was pointless.

Harley got up to take her mind off it, her hands trailed the spines of the books on the shelves and she fawned at the handmade vases and art pieces sporadically placed in the room. She couldn’t help but admire the art and photography on the walls, especially the drawing of the Lyra constellation. It was her middle name, Lyra.

There were very few moments in her life when her mother acted like one, but the one thing that was constant was her mother’s love for the stars; it was like it sobered her. She used to tell Harley the reason she named her Lyra was because, “The stars are there for guidance, and as long as you believe, that light will always lead you in the right direction. Making you just as bright.” Harley used to wish her mother would heed her own words, but if wishes were horses beggars would ride.

There was a time her mum wanted to be an astrophysicist but when she got pregnant, she gave up everything. She was only eighteen, and her parents kicked her out, they didn’t want the shame of a teenage daughter with a baby. They were first-generation immigrants who had set ideals about how their child should behave. Harley didn’t even know what her grandparents looked like, they were just an endless addition to the many people who didn’t want her.

She had wondered why her mother kept her instead of having an abortion, but she realised a while ago it had all been about love. She fell in love with a man she couldn’t have and wanted to keep a piece of him with her. But the sadness that resulted in the postpartum depression turned to resentment very quickly. She never fully recovered from it, which led to barely making ends meet. She turned to pills and alcohol to make things easier for herself with no regard for how that would affect Harley. But as her mother ever so often liked to remind her, she was the one who ruined her life. Maybe it was why Harley did everything she could to compensate.