Chapter 83
Celeste
Thursday
Celeste passes her angry, sulking son on the stairs. He’s still not talking to her since the vape argument yesterday evening.
His parting words ring in her ears as she crosses the landing to Nika’s room.
More like Nika? Ha. You’ll see. And when it’s over, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
What does that even mean? Good lord. She can’t wait till the teenage years are done.
She knocks on Nika’s open door and steps in. Nika’s lying on her bed, scrolling. On her laptop, Gossip Girl plays, subtitles on, sound down. There are dresses strewn across the chair at her desk and some have slipped to the floor. The normal disarray of a teenage girl.
Nika sits up straight, cross-legged now on her bed.
“Oh, hi, Mum. Did you finish work early?”
“No, I’m not done, I have a call with the US at seven, but I’ll do it from home. Are you feeling better after all that drama with Greta O’Donnell yesterday?”
“A little,” Nika says, summoning a small smile. “I’ll be fine, Mum, don’t worry.”
“Well, how about some shopping to help cheer you up?”
The smile widens, becomes more real. “I’d love that! I was thinking, could we go to Kildare Village? Jessica went with her mum last week and they got gorgeous stuff and had lunch and it sounded—”
“I was thinking more about online shopping. It’s easier than going in person, isn’t it? I can give you my credit card and you put yourself together a nice haul from Brandy Melville?”
“Oh. Sure. That would be great.”
Is Celeste imagining it, or is there something flat in Nika’s response? She usually loves an opportunity to shop. Maybe this thing with Greta hit her harder than Celeste realized.
“How about you order that Chanel bronzer you were hinting about the other day and pop a few more things in a Cult Beauty basket for yourself?”
“Great. Thanks. Actually”—Nika sits up straighter—“could I take your car tonight?”
“Ah, I’ll need it after my work call. I have Pilates at eight.”
“You could use Dad’s car.”
“He’s at the golf club.”
A petulant pout. Celeste had always thought it was cute. Maybe less so now that Nika is almost eighteen.
“Aw, Mum, come on. I told Jess I’d call over, and there’s no way to get there without a car.”
Celeste thinks back to her own teenage years—she got buses and walked everywhere. Different times, she supposes.
“All right, I’ll skip Pilates—my call will probably go on past eight anyway. But drive carefully.”
“Always. And thanks for the offer of the bronzer. Will I get something for you too?”
“Do, surprise me.” Celeste smiles at her daughter and leaves the room.
If only Cody was as easy as Nika.