3
HARLEY
“See you on Monday, Harley,” she heard her older coworker say to her on the way out and waved in return.
The ache after a long day of work was indescribable.
You had to experience it yourself to understand it.
All the adrenaline you have is sucked out of you and you're left with nothing but the weight of your body dragging you down.
A cycle she repeated almost, if not, seven days a week.
It was damn near midnight and she was just now getting herself home because she had to close the store, but relief filled her lungs remembering tomorrow was her one day off this week.
The weather at this time of year wasn’t too bad but the late summer chill affected her more than others.
She got cold easily, the slightest breeze and she rushed to put on at least five layers.
Otherwise she was going to spend the next week with a nasty cold.
This was why she always used her headphones as earmuffs to keep her ears safe from the wind, even if she wasn’t listening to music, like now, as she currently had them on.
She just used them to keep warm. They felt much more effective than actual earmuffs.
Possibly dumb logic but it was hers. Besides, if she actually was listening to music, it came in handy.
The one thing she hated was having to walk late at night, especially on the nights when she bartended at her other job, in her neighbourhood.
She had learnt to be careful around here from the minute she had a mind of her own; an area like this wasn’t very kind to girls.
Sleazy older men who leered too long, the gang members who crawled the streets or the pimps who tried recruiting.
Harley had a reputation of her own around here, she didn’t shy away from cursing out or getting physical with any of the listed which led to them staying away from her.
‘Harleen is a bitch’, ‘She thinks she’s too good for us’.
She had heard it her entire life; all because she had the audacity to stand up for herself.
Wasn’t that funny? She was the bitch and the cunt for stopping the disgusting forty year old uncle from chatting to a kid who was freshly fifteen.
All of it didn’t stop her from being careful nonetheless, she was sure there were people around here who would love to get one on her. Her guard was always up. She had never experienced the luxury of mindless thinking.
Not outside and not at home.
It came with being the breadwinner of the family. Her whole life, it had been just her and her mother. Even though she was barely present enough to be considered that. A mother. But that was neither here nor there, she has had years to adapt to that.
Harley neared her home and she was thankful that some of the lights of the lamposts still worked, a couple of them flickered in and out or were flat out done for. For a Saturday night it was quieter than usual, people were still usually littered about especially at the pub not too far from here.
A glint of a car light caught her eye. It wasn’t the first time she had seen it.
The car was tinted so she could never see inside, who or what was watching.
It was none of her concern, the only advice she offered was that whoever they were should be careful.
A car like that was bait. She looked at it one last time then walked the four flights of stairs to their tiny two bedroom flat.
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.
The car was still there, its headlights on, she stormed towards it but was quickly stopped in her tracks when the passenger door opened.
Out walked two people, an older man and a girl, both in formal wear.
The man wore a navy blue suit while the girl, who looked a little older than her, four or five years give or take, was in a pinstriped white shirt and neat black skirt paired with about three-inch heels and white socks, however she was also wearing a leather jacket.
Her black hair was parted with a singular clip holding to the side.
She looked so put together Harley felt a little self conscious.
She glanced down at her outfit, tugging on the ends of her hoodie as they neared.
Despite their intimidating walk up, she held her head high, still a little out of breath and lightheaded from her sprint down the stairs, so uses it as her excuse for blurting out, “Who the fuck are you?”
The man smiled and stepped forward as the girl hung back, not perturbed by the language. “My name is Frances Able. I work for your father, Harley. We both do.”
She had assumed as much. “Where is he? Could he not say whatever this is to me himself?”
“Your father is a very important and busy man.”
She scoffed in disbelief. That sounds about right. He’s been busy for twenty years.
“Assuming you read the envelope left on your front door, you know why we’re here.” She nodded, then he continued. “Ideally we would like for you to leave with us at once but–”
Harley’s eyes popped wide open, “Leave? Slow down, I didn’t agree to that.”
He looked back at the girl, who just rolled her eyes, before facing Harley again. “You said you read the envelope? Everything will be funded for, including where you live.”
“I don’t care about the money, I’m not going to pack up my whole life to follow two strangers into the night at the whims of my sperm donor who didn’t bother to deal with me himself.
” Her voice started to rise and that was no good in an area like this, it would garner attention she didn’t need or want getting back to her mum.
The late summer wind whistled in the silence that came after. The girl stepped forward and asked,“What life?” sounding bored and hardened simultaneously.
“Excuse me?” Harley blinked, taken aback.
“What life?” she repeated, as though she wasn't saying it to be mean, just honest. “You have none. I have been in charge of watching you for weeks, and from where I’m standing, there’s absolutely nothing worth holding on to.
Your life is a shitshow, Harley. Take the opportunity given to you to get out of here and make something of yourself. ”
The girl was right, she did not have a life. Harley couldn’t help the tears that threatened to fall. Her every waking moment had been about how to put food on the table or making sure her mum didn’t end up dead from indulging in her addiction.
“I can’t leave her,” she said softly as she looked away.
The girl raised an eyebrow and Harley clarified, “My mum. I can’t leave her.”
“Don’t use her as an excuse to not do the right thing, you’ve been doing it for long enough.”
That felt like another bullet to the chest. Harley felt chastised and she hated it. The girl turned to leave, “See you on Monday.”
Frank spoke after she left, “Regarding your mother, we will handle everything. The only thing you have to do is get in the car and leave. She’s right, by the way.
You have to think about yourself.” And with that sentiment, he went in the same direction as the girl had and they drove off, leaving Harley with her thoughts.