Seventeen
SEVENTEEN
FRANCESCA
L aying on the sofa, I revelled in the quiet.
The lazy hum of the air-con was my sole companion, and I’d lolled in its company for the afternoon. Stuck in limbo between the glorious week I’d had with Alex, and the trepidation of my parents' return.
A bug landed on the back of the sofa, meandering over the aged leather without a care. I supposed, perhaps, it would care about baser things - food, reproduction. It didn’t need to worry about work, expectations or proving to be a disappointment.
Being jealous of an insect was a new low.
I jolted upright as a car pulled onto the drive, the crunch of tires hitting me with a wave of stomach clenching foreboding.
Still, I brushed off my t-shirt, smoothing the wrinkles from where laying had squashed it as the door opened, the afternoon heat following them inside.
‘Hey,’ I said, painting on a smile.
Mom gave me a stilted hug, passing me a small pin badge with a horse on it. ‘Have a fun week?’
‘Yeah, it was good.’
Dad trailed behind her, arms full of bags, and laid a hurried kiss on my cheek. ‘Looks like you kept the place in one piece.’
I shut the door behind him, freezing when I turned to see my mom staring at the kitchen counter.
Shit .
The phone tripod stood next to the sink where the dishes drained.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘Just something to hold my phone.’ I packed it up, folding the black plastic legs up onto the central frame.
‘It’s a tripod.’ My father walked past us, dumping the bags onto a seat and shaking out his arms.
‘For filming?’ Mom’s brows furrowed. ‘What are you filming?’
As if people don’t film themselves all the time...
Straightening my shoulders, I found myself at the precipice of a choice. Act as though it’s nothing, or tell them about my new channel. The channel that was growing fast, my excitement about it ballooning with each passing day.
Even a nod of understanding from them would make my month. Just something that told me they thought I was worthwhile. Not their fictionalised, hope-based version of Francesca, but the real one. I wanted to exist in their world without being a shadowed fragment of myself.
Taking a deep breath, I smiled, hoping that my excitement might pave the way for theirs.
‘Well, you know I enjoy cooking and watching baking videos online? I decided instead of just posting some videos on my profile, I’d create one especially for it. It’s going really well. I’ve posted my first five videos and people are liking and commenting on them, even sharing them. Someone tried one of my recipes and sent me a picture.’
The longer I spoke, the more my mom’s face drew into a pinched stare.
‘I know it doesn’t mean much yet, but I’ve got one hundred followers already.’
My mother’s voice was tight when she spoke. ‘And are they going to pay your bills?’
I tensed. Always with the negatives. Would a little support kill her?
‘Can I show you? Maybe you’d understand if you look--’
‘Darling, I’ve only just gotten home. I’m all sticky, and need to shower.’ She turned before I could so much as pull up my profile.
‘Of course you don’t have time for me. You never do.’ Thrusting my phone back into my pocket, I picked up the tripod, battling the rising anger.
‘That’s uncharitable,’ she said, rounding on me.
‘You know what’s uncharitable? Expecting your child to become a fucking mini-me repeat of you.’
‘Francesca Marie,’ my father said, his voice raising. ‘Don’t cuss at your mother.’
‘It’s about time I cussed at the both of you. Giving birth to me doesn’t give you the right to control my life. I don’t want your lives on repeat. I want my own. I’m not you.’
‘You’re being an ungrateful little b--’
‘I am grateful for the things you’ve both provided me with. But expecting me to worship the ground you walk on because of the unwanted things you gave me is like making me thank you for the rod. I love you both. But I want to spread my wings. I need to. I need my own life.’ My voice trembled as I fought down tears, not from upset, but from confrontation.
‘So what? You intend to throw away your education to make some stupid little videos ?’ Dad’s voice joined the fray.
‘No. I’m going to finish my degree. I have aspirations, but I’m not frivolous. Dentistry can be my backup. And while I complete my degree, I will grow my business. Then I’ll take a year out and travel. Try to attend some renowned pastry courses. Taste the baked goods in their countries of origin. Experience life for myself.’
Dad’s arms folded while Mom’s mouth formed a line. ‘And how are you going to fund this?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll figure it out. You guys did.’
Mom gave an exasperated shrug before Dad looped an arm around her shoulders.
‘Your support would mean a lot,’ I said, trying not to give in to the hot tears threatening to escape.
‘Francesca, we love you. But we can’t support this. We expect you to join the practice. We’ve made space for you,’ Mom said, a finality to her words.
‘I’m doing it, anyway.’ I gathered my things to my chest and turned, heading for the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Dad asked.
‘To sleep with the man next door.’ Even I cringed at my words. I couldn’t help it. They’d ignited a fury inside me. Why couldn’t they see me?
‘Why are you still wasting your time with him? Is this where all this is coming from? He’s a waste of space...’ Mum demanded.
‘No, not him. I’m fucking his dad.’
‘What?!’ Their shocked voices were in unison. The glee I took from walking out on that bombshell followed me all the way into Alex’s arms.