Ricochet
Scarlett
The sun’s morning rays poke through my curtain, warming my face. I’ve already hit the snooze button twice. I roll over and face the door. In my four years of studies, I have yet to miss a class. If I don’t hurry, today I might.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand and thoughts of last night flood my mind.
My cheeks burn—either from the sun, or the embarrassment of my finding my mom, naked at a party.
I knew that she hasn’t been honest about her lifestyle, but now I want to discover the true extent of what she does.
I sit up, my head leaning against the headboard.
My phone buzzes again. I don’t want to look at it.
There’s a faint knock on my door.
“Scarlett, are you awake?” Dad says from the hallway.
I don’t want him to see me like this, but there’s no point in hiding. He is my dad after all.
“Yeah, I’m up.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m here if you need to talk about last night.” His voice is muffled through the door.
I don’t want to push him away, but I can’t help to think that if he knew the truth, he wouldn’t be so calm about it. I don’t answer him. Instead, I get up off the bed and open the door. He holds a coffee in his hand—a peace offering.
“I know about your mom, Scarlett.” His words startle me. I try to read his face. His eyes have bags under them. I wonder if he knew or if Callum told him—I heard him here last night. He came to talk to me, and Dad wouldn’t let him in.
“You know that she was at the party?” I take a sip of the hot coffee with a bit of cream and sugar, just the way I like it.
“I know everything, honey. Callum told me what happened at the party, and then I found out more from some people I know in town.” His face looks older today, like stress has warn him down. The hair framing his face isn’t pushed back with oil—I can tell he hasn’t been into the shop yet.
“Who did you ask about mom after?”
He hesitates.
“Daryl from the Sheriff’s office. You know that we’ve been friends for a long time.
He’s known for a while, but he didn’t know how to tell me.
I guess he’s not sure of the full extent and didn’t want to come to me with missing pieces.
Can’t blame the guy, I wouldn’t want to tell someone that either. ”
I wonder how much he knows. “What did he tell you?”
He looks to the floor, then back at me. “How much do you know?”
“What does it matter what I know, Dad. I’m going to find out either way. Wouldn’t you rather be the one to tell me the truth?” His eyebrows shift, each word firing directly into his soul. His frown tells me that this has broken him too.
“Your Mom works at the Steakhouse, that isn’t a lie. But I guess that over the last few years, she has transitioned into, um, escorting men on dates.”
“As a prostitute?” I ask. Nothing about this feels real.
“I think so. I’m not sure. I don’t know Scarlett, this is just what I’ve been told.” His words are scattered, like he isn’t sure what to believe either.
“I just want to know why. I think it’s more than that, Dad.” My eyes focus on the mug in my hand.
“I don’t think we’ll get the answers we want, honey.” He reaches for my hand and grabs it in his. We lock eyes.
“I know that you don’t want to forgive her for leaving us Scar, but this didn’t take her away from us. She couldn’t be here. She wasn’t with us for a while before all of this. It was time.” The words hit me hard.
“I know you’re just trying to help Dad, but I just need to sit with this for a while before we talk about it anymore.” I face him with a broken smile.
He squeezes my hand, then let’s go.
“I get that. Are you going to school soon?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing today. I might just go to the gym and work on my paper after.”
He nods and smiles. “Come say bye before you leave,” he says and shuts the door. I hear him step down the stairs.
I place my mug on the nightstand beside me before I slide down, back underneath the covers. I don’t want to face anyone today or show up at school, pretending like I’m okay. When I can’t hide behind fake smiles and boxing gloves, I need to embrace the darkness.
I throw the covers off and walk over to my closet. I stretch my arms above my head and examine the clothes hanging on the rack. I’m definitely not going to school.
I walk over to my dresser, pull on some sweatpants, pick out a sports bra, and throw an oversized hoodie overtop.
In the bathroom, I brush my teeth. Before I turn the light off, I notice my reflection in the mirror.
The person looking back at me isn’t the girl I once was.
My hair looks the same, but it feels heavier.
My eyes are identical, but they feel tired.
My body isn't different, but it feels beat down. I walk downstairs and grab my gym bag before heading out to my car. I don’t see Dad in the house—he must’ve started working.
I open the garage door and poke my head in. “I’m headed to the gym. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He lifts his head out from the hood of a car and smiles.
“Okay honey. I was thinking takeout for dinner. Chinese?”
“Sure Dad, love you.”
A thin layer of frost coats my windshield, slowly melting in the sun.
I get in the car and wait for the window to defrost. I pull my phone out of my bag—I purposely haven’t looked at it all morning.
I open the screen to twelve missed calls and five texts.
Two of the calls are from Sophia, she must’ve found out.
It’s likely that Callum told Harrison, and I’m sure he told Stirling, they are brothers. I click on the messages.
Three were from last night.
Callum: Please, let me explain. I can fix this.
Callum: Scarlett, please let me see you. I need to see you.
Callum: You are everything good in my life.
Two are from this morning.
Callum: You can ignore me Angel, but that won’t stop me from trying.
Sophia: I’m here when you’re ready to talk. XO. I love you, Sis.
I throw my phone in the passenger seat and drive to the gym.
I can’t believe he thinks I’d want to talk to him.
I shake my head and turn up the radio, trying to find an escape in the music.
Radiohead pluses through the speakers but my mind drifts back to him.
I need space to figure out what to make of all of this.
I wonder if Callum is used to fights like this.
Surely, he’s been in a relationship before.
Hasn’t he? If he doesn’t have a good demonstration of what healthy boundaries are, then this all makes a lot more sense.
I linger on the thought—will he ever understand the boundaries I’m putting in place?
I pull into the gym parking lot, grab my bag, and walk in.
I don’t remember the drive. Today, the space doesn’t greet me with the familiar smell that is usually comforting.
Instead, it feels like a task I’m checking off a list, not something I love doing.
I go over to my locker and shove my bag in the small space. I pull my gloves out.
“Hey Scar,” a familiar voice startles me from behind.
“I have thirty minutes until my next match. Hop up in the ring and we can have a quick round.” Ricco doesn’t move as I shut the locker and turn around to face him.
Before I say anything, I know he can read my expression by the lack of enthusiasm on my face.
“I’m just going to hit the bags today, but thanks.” I walk around him.
I don’t hear him move.
“Scar, you okay?” He responds quickly. I don’t want to tell him anything, but he knows me well enough by now.
“I’m just having a day, Ricco. Take the time to relax or clean the machines for the tenth time today while you wait.” My jab hits him harder than my fists ever have.
“You’re allowed to have bad days Scarlett, but don’t take them out on me.
” He steps toward me. “Save it for the bags, give them one hell of a go.” He looks me up and down.
“Let it all out, kid.” I break our eye contact as tears begin to pool.
I smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. He turns around and walks away.
I head over to my favourite bag, that’s tucked away from everything else. I slide my gloves on, expecting to feel the rush take over my body, but it never comes.
I’m so furious— at Mom, at Callum, at this damn Society I know nothing about.
I hate that I’m letting these issues consume me.
I wouldn’t be mad at Mom if she was just honest. Instead, everything stings that much more.
I grab the bag, unable to swing at it, and gently push it away.
I can’t. Not today. I close my eyes and exhale.
When I open them, I take my gloves off and rush to my locker to grab my stuff. Before I can run into Ricco, I hurry out. I unlock the car door, throw my bag in, and grab my phone.
I go to my contacts and look for the only one I want to talk to.
Mom.
My finger hovers over the call button. Moisture gathers beneath my eyelids as regret washes in.
I lock my phone and lean back against the head rest. I don’t open my eyes as tears fall down my face.
A lonely sob comforts me while a heaviness spreads across my chest. I’m welcomed back into the darkness that I’ve been fighting for too long.