5
HARLEY
She’d done it. She left. Harley was woman enough to admit she had taken the coward’s way out.
Her mum had been asleep that late afternoon when she carried her lone bag out of the house with nothing but a note stamped to the front door.
Still, she felt something inkling towards pride that she managed to do something for herself for the first time in her life.
Now she was being debriefed about what to and not to do, what to and not to say by the same girl who she had met that night.
It was just the two of them this time as they sat across from one another in the unnecessarily big private plane.
They could’ve simply taken the train or driven, all thoughts she voiced but were shut down.
She quickly figured this was a scenario of the rich loving to have their ego stroked by flaunting their wealth to those who didn’t have it.
She had met the pilot and air hostesses when they first sat down, the latter tried to serve her a meal but she declined as she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of food made in the air.
“Lastly, you will go by your mother’s maiden name,” the girl completed.
“Why not keep Bass? I don’t look like them anyway, no one would notice.” When she was younger she was confused as to why her last name was different from her mother’s, Banjo, but eventually gathered it had to do with her father.
“This,” she used her hand to gesture to Harley, “is a serious press issue. We need to take the necessary steps to handle how you would be introduced. The name Bass means something over there.”
Harley couldn’t pretend she didn’t know that, you would have had to live under a rock to not be aware of the family of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world. She even owned their phones that she got in a two-for-one deal for her and her mother.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” she asked instead after a beat.
This resulted in a blank stare, the girl replied, “What does my name have to do with anything I have just said?”
Harley shrugged, “I realised I didn’t know it.”
The girl leaned back in her seat for the first time, surveying her.
Her hair was in a sleek ponytail with slight strands sticking out from the shorter hairs, it was undeniably effortless rather than messy, much like everything else about her.
She was dressed more casually this time in a pair of jeans, still in heels, and this time with a different leather jacket, in brown.
Harley had a feeling she probably had a closet filled with them.
Probably helped curate the air of mysteriousness that plagued her.
With a relenting sigh she answered, “It’s Proserpina but everyone calls me Posy.”
For some unknown reason this made Harley smile, she hadn’t been expecting that. She was so serious and stern she had been expecting something like Margaret. The name humanised her, “But what if I wanted to call you Proserpina?” Harley asked.
Posy looked her up and down, “Please don’t.”
The banter faded into a comfortable silence but every minute of the trip had her ears ringing, her feet tapping and rubbing her thumb in circles on her thighs.
Maybe it’s because she had never been on a plane before but she was nervous.
She was certain she could hear her heart beating at a mile a minute.
To take her mind off it, and feeling like they had formed some camaraderie, Harley asked Posy more questions, “How long have you been working for him? My father.” The taste of the word was unfamiliar on her tongue, she couldn't tell how she felt about it.
“Almost three years,” she replied. Harley nodded, thinking that made sense considering how young she looked.
“What’s he like?” Harley asked tentatively, then rushed to say, “I just want to know for when I meet him.”
Posy slowly started to shake her head. “I never said anything about going to meet him.”
Harley sat up a little straighter at that announcement, confusion immediately overtaking her. She asked incredulously, “What are you talking about?”
“My instructions are to take you straight to your sister’s place,” Posy revealed, something akin to pity shown on her face at the way Harley’s face fell. “You won’t be seeing him just yet.”
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.
Still, when Annabel came back into the room with two cups of strawberry tea, she no longer had the desire for small talk as she couldn’t help but worry about her ma. Posy reassured her they were going to take care of her, but knowing her mum, she wouldn’t take it quietly.
“If it’s okay with you, I would like to rest, it’s been a long day,” Harley said, interrupting whatever else was going to come out of Annabel.
“I’ll show you your room,” Annabel said with a strained smile, “It’s on the first floor, opposite mine.”
Harley dragged her bag up the stairs refusing all notions of help. When they got upstairs, she thanked her and disappeared behind the doors of her new room.
The first thing she noticed was how unbelievably bright the room was.
It was colour coordinated in pastels; the walls and lamp were pink, the sheets and desks were green and the pillows were a mix of both.
Next came the sheer size of it, that left her gobsmacked, unable to contain the shock from seeing there was a bathroom in here.
This was supposed to be her new normal. A great part of her was scared and it was why she had given Annabel a cold reception. Assimilating with others didn’t always come easy to her, especially due to how she had lived with her mum. But the other part was excited about a fresh start.
She was going to complete her four years at TUL and make something for herself. Then get her mother the help she could never afford before. Tomorrow was a new day and she was going to make the best of it.