Page 7 of House of Bass

Outside the door, sat an envelope. Her brows dipped, they rarely got mail that wasn't about the bills they owed and struggled to pay or clothes her mother ordered with money she didn’t have, but this one was addressed to her. She picked it up and looked around, wondering who could have left it there as she turned the key to get inside.

The house was silent, and a quiet house meant one of two things, her mother was gone and wouldn’t be back for a while or she was simply asleep. Judging by the litter of bottles that greeted her, she leaned towards the latter. Thankful that tonight wouldn’t lead to unwanted or unnecessary confrontations, she rested the envelope under her arms and cleaned the mess. She didn’t blink at the extent of it. This was routine. This was her life, it was always going to be her life. A glorified caretaker.

After she was done, she went to her mum’s room to check she was still breathing and hadn’t choked on her own vomit. Gently opening the door, there she was resting on her bed with her hair roughly parted into two braids and another half opened bottle. At least she was peaceful somewhere.

Harley left and found her way back to her room. She had forgotten the ache for a moment but it flooded her the second she laid her head against her door. Her eyes pinched closed, trying to take a moment for herself. Once she opened them again, the rusty clock on her wall turned one. So she shedded out of her work clothes into some shorts and a vest. The envelope forgotten as her head landed on the pillow, she was dead to the world.

The sound of scuffling woke her the next morning, she sprung up the bed immediately. She checked the time on her phone. It was ten in the morning. This was the longest she’d ever slept, usually she’d be up at six, whether or not she was going to work; she must’ve been more tired than she thought.

More importantly, her mum was searching her room for something and it alarmed her. “Ma, what’d you want?”

“Nothing.” Harley glared and she changed her tune, “Need some cash, Harls. Just a bit.”

“You know I don’t keep cash on me.” This wasn’t necessarily true but it was a lie she told so that all her money didn’t wither away to satiate her mother’s gross habits.

Her mum’s eyes narrowed to slits, “I seen some on you the other day, so you best stop lying.”

“What will you fucking do?” Harley knew better than to goad her mother into a fight but her irritation was spiking with every passing second of this conversation.

“It’s just for some cigs Harleen, don’t be a cunt,” she whined, her hands fidgeted and Harley detected she was seconds away from getting physical. She rubbed her hands with her face, “Fine, I think I have a tenner somewhere.”

Her mum cooed once Harley handed it over, “Thank you, baby. I’ll be back in a sec.”

‘A sec’ meant she would be gone doing God knows what for the rest of the day. Harley got up from her bed and got started on her chores.

Hours later when she finally had a chance to sit down, after making herself a cup of strawberry tea, her leg knocked on the envelope from yesterday. It had escaped her mind, she had been far too tired last night to give it another thought. She opened it to reveal a letter that was also signed to her. Her eyes dipped at that, she didn’t know a single person who knew her enough to sign a personal letter.

When she started reading, the cup she had been holding fell out of her hand from the paralysing shock and its scalding water burned her leg. She ran to get something to clean the floor but ultimately she ended up sliding down, the letter still in hand.

There it was plain as day, her father had written to her. Her whole life she had wanted that man to acknowledge her existence, and now that it was here, she felt strange. The letter itself wasn’t anything special, it was just him telling her who she was to him and what he wanted from her, which led her to the other content of the bigger envelope. An admissions letter to Thorne University London.

Everyone knew about the prestigious university, her school counsellors had tried to push her to apply there but she had been firm in her idea of not wanting to go to university. Who would take care of her mum? Who would pay the bills?

Her anger surged, yet another person wanted to take from her, what made him think he could waltz into her life with a flimsy letter? Where has he been for the past twenty years? She went and chucked it all in the bin. She started pacing and pacing. Then it came to her.

The fancy car.

It had to be. This time she would confront whoever was in it when it showed up again. It was him, it had to be. Or at least, there was a small part of her that hoped it was but she would never admit that to herself. She wanted, no , needed to talk to him. There had been a time in her life when her father was all she had hoped for. By fourteen, she gave up on that notion very quickly when she knew he was never coming to save her. That she was going to be her mother’s keeper until the day she died.

Harley picked the envelope again up from the bin and tucked it to her chest. She’d be patient and wait.

The clock turned ten and she was getting aggravated, that letter had been burning a hole in her brain all day. She had now read it so many times it was seared into her memory. Her mother was sitting in front of the television and she was thankful that she had chosen today to be mostly subdued.

Harley sat on the steel chair she had on her balcony, if you could even call it that. It was so tiny there was barely enough room for her legs to stretch, but she had to sit there. It was where she had the best view to spot the car if it came back.

“Harls I’m hungry!” Her mum yelled from the living room and her eye roll was instinctive.

Of course, she was.

“There’s food on the stove, go put it in the microwave,” Harley hollered, her eyes still on the roads.

“My legs are hurting, do it for me,” her mum yelled back. “And get me a beer.”

Harley grumbled but she got up to do as she was told. In the midst of it, she looked out the kitchen window and saw the car she had been waiting for already sitting there. She paused what she was doing and immediately ran towards the door, not even her mum’s confused questioning stopped her. “Where are you running off to?”

“No beer, I’m going to Sam’s to get some.”

“But what about the food?” she yelled as Harley shut the front door, drowning out her complaints. They could fight about it later. She ran down the stairs two steps at a time, cursing the fact that they had no working lifts in their block.