by Sara Martin
“Anna?” Mr. Donaldson smiled. “Why does that not surprise me? I used to be her teacher too, not so long ago.”
“You were Anna’s English teacher?” I knew Anna had gone to this school, but somehow, I had never considered we might have shared the same teacher.
“Yes. Come to think of it, you and Anna are a lot alike.”
I thought of Anna, smiling warmly from behind the issues desk, a book in her hand. “Really?” I asked.
He nodded. “She was the top student in her year. As I’m sure you can imagine, there were a lot of expectations placed on her. She was told she could succeed at anything.”
“What happened?”
“One day, she confided in me that the only thing she wanted to do with her life was read. How she despaired of that.” He chuckled.
I sighed, resting my head in my hand. “I know that feeling.”
“It seems like everything worked out for her in the end.”
“She loves being a librarian.”
“I’m glad. I seem to have gotten off track. What were we talking about?”
“Alexander Morris.”
“That’s right. What did you wish to know about Alexander Morris?”
“I want to know why you don’t tell anyone about him.”
“Have you read any of his books?”
I shook my head. “Only Hole Hearted.”
“The content can be challenging at times. Disturbing, even. You might say Alexander Morris is my dark side.”
“But you’re such a good writer. Surely, it deserves to be known?”
“First and foremost, I’m a teacher. I wanted to keep my writer side and my teacher side as separate as possible.”
“So, it’s to protect your job?”
“Originally, yes.”
“But not anymore?”
“I’m an old man, Ivy. The funny thing about getting older is the things that once worried you no longer seem like a big deal. I wonder whether it’s time?”
“Time for what?”
“Time to reveal the identity of Alexander Morris. What do you think?”
“Of course you should!”
Mr. Donaldson laughed. “Then I’ll consider it.”
“Anna will be ecstatic.”
“Now, go on. Get yourself home.”
I left his office and walked home in triumph. I couldn’t wait to share the good news with Anna. Approaching my house, I noticed Mum’s car parked in the driveway.
That’s odd. She must have come home early. I could hear her in the kitchen. I went straight to my room. The moment I walked in, a sense of dread set in. Something was off. The bedding had been pulled from my bed, leaving a stark-naked mattress. The Elias prospectus which I kept hidden under my mattress jumped to my mind. I went to check that it was still there. I lifted the mattress and felt underneath.
Nothing.
17
I lifted the mattress farther to take a proper look. The Elias prospectus had vanished. I knew Mum must have taken it. I felt sick. Pacing my room, I wondered whether I should keep quiet or get it over with and confront her now. Either way, there was no way she would let this slip by.
I couldn’t avoid Mum forever, so I crept to the kitchen under the guise of making a cup of tea. I tried to act all calm and cool.
Nothing out of the ordinary here. Then, I met her eyes, which were ablaze with simmering fury.
“I took your bedding to the dry cleaners,” she said ominously.
I gulped. “Thanks.”
“While I was taking off your mattress protector, I found something.”
“Oh?”
“Don’t play dumb.” She picked up the prospectus from the coffee table. “What is this about, hmmm? Why were you hiding it?”
“I was just curious about what other options are out there. But, I thought you wouldn’t approve.”
“You’re damn right I don’t approve.” She flicked through it, and the half-finished application form drifted to the floor.
I tried to grab it, but Mum was too fast.
“What’s this? Application to study?” Her face twisted in disgust. “Didn’t we agree you would study law?”
“I don’t recall a formal and binding agreement.”
“What’s the issue here, Ivy? You’ve always had an interest in law. It’s a good, sensible career choice.”
“I did have an interest in it.”
“And you still do, don’t you?”
“Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe I was only interested in the first place because you pushed me so hard into it.”
“I did no such thing.”
I breathed in deeply, trying my best to stay calm. “I’m not cut out to be a lawyer. I want to do something creative.”
“It's fine you’re a creative person, Ivy. I encourage that. But creativity doesn’t pay the bills.”
“Lots of people manage to—”
“In this economy? I don’t think so. How about your friend… What’s his name? The artist boy.”
“Julian?”
“That’s right, Julian. How’s it working for him? Got money to burn, has he?”
“No. But he hasn’t even begun his study yet. He’s still a novice.”
Mum wasn’t listening. “I know what it’s like to struggle. Your dad was a journalist on minimum wage, and I was a post-grad student. We lived in poverty. I don’t want that kind of life for you.”
“It all worked out in the end though, didn’t it?”
“Not without a lot of sacrifice. When we had you, I had to drop out of school, and your dad had to move into sales. If we could turn back the clock, we would have done things differently.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, tears filling my eyes. Is she referring to not having me? Was I a mistake?
“I only want what’s best for you.”
“And how do you know what that is?” I spluttered through tears.
“I know I don’t want you to go through the things your dad and I did.”
“What was so bad?”
“I sacrificed my dreams to raise you.”
“And, now, you want me to sacrifice mine?”
Mum opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t find the words to retaliate.
I stormed off to my room and slammed the door behind me. I lay down, face buried in my pillow, muffling the sound of my crying. Why won’t she let me do what I want to do? Why does it hurt her so much? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Exhausted and confused, I wept until my pillowcase was damp with tears. Sometime later, a faint knock caught my attention.
“Ivy? Can I come in?” Dad asked.
“No,” I replied.
He opened the door anyway and sat down on the edge of my bed. “Ivy, I want to know what’s going on.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Tears welled in my eyes again.
“Please…why the sudden interest in another degree?” He patiently waited for me to recover from my crying.
“It’s been on my mind for a while, but I knew Mum would be pissed off about it,” I sobbed.
“I thought you wanted to study law?”
“Mum wanted me to want to study law so bad she made me believe it. But I’ve snapped out of that, and I know it’s not for me. I want to give writing a go. I know it’s not a sensible career, but I’ll never know if I can make it if I don’t try.”
Dad rubbed the bridge of his nose as he always did when deep in thought. He smiled.
“You know, I did the same thing at your age. I wasn’t focused on a career. I just did what I wanted to do.”
Sniffing back my tears, I sat up straighter, intrigued. “What did you do?”
“I played music with a band and I studied English at university.”
“I didn’t know you were a musician.”
“Not a very good one. But I fancied the idea that I might become a music journalist.”
“What happened?”
“It turned out to be much more difficult to
get into than I expected. I wrote some articles for small publications. Most of the time, I didn’t get paid anything. I wasn’t able to get that big break I needed.”
“When did you start working at the Flagstaff?”
“I bummed around for a while. Then when I needed to get serious about making money, I became a writer at the Flagstaff.”
“So, that’s when it happened…” I processed Dad’s story in my mind. Still, something didn’t make sense. “Why did you stop being a journalist? Did Mum make you give it up?”
Dad furrowed his brow. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You loved being a journalist, but you started working in sales around the time I was born.”
“No one made me do anything. It’s complicated.”
“Tell me. I want to know.”
Dad ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “All right, then. If you must know, so be it. But don’t tell Karen I told you. She’s very sensitive about this part of her life.”
“I won’t.”
Dad made himself comfortable and then began. “I was working at the Flagstaff, and Karen was in her final year at university, completing a Masters in Law. I really wanted a baby.”
“But not Mum?”
“She did, but she was very focused on her career at the time. She had this lofty idea of becoming a successful, high-profile lawyer.”
“What changed her mind?”
“She agreed to have a baby if I would be a stay-at-home dad while she pursued her career. I was thrilled with the arrangement.”
“But Mum ended up staying home…?”
“Yes, by a series of uncontrollable circumstances. She had a terrible pregnancy, you see. She was so ill, she stopped going to university. We planned that she would go back once you were born, but she was struck by postpartum depression.”
No wonder Mum seems to resent me sometimes.
“By the time she had recovered, university had completely fallen from her radar. We desperately needed money. A job in advertising sales came up at the Flagstaff, and I decided to apply. It was a big increase in salary. I went to work, and Karen stayed home to look after you.”
“So, that’s how it happened,” I said, downcast. All the jumbled pieces finally fit together. Mum had wanted to be a lawyer, but my birth had stopped her from achieving her goal. Now, she wanted me to pick up where she’d left off.
“I don’t want you to think anything was your fault, Ivy. Sometimes dreams are just dreams and you have to let them go.”
“But, still, you had the chance to try.”
“I did, and I don’t regret those days one bit. You would make a brilliant lawyer, Ivy. But I understand if your heart’s not in it. It wouldn’t be a good career if you hated it.”
“I don’t know if I would hate it. But I would regret not giving my writing a chance.”
Dad nodded.
“So, what should I do?”
“You’re adult enough to make your own decisions, whether your mum and I approve of them or not.”
I nodded, although I desperately wanted approval—especially from Dad.
“We can’t stop you from doing whatever you want. The worst we can do is hold back financial assistance, which I’m afraid will have to be the case. A university education is an investment, and creative writing is a risky path. I know that too well.”
It hurt to hear it confirmed.
“I’ll try to get your mother to calm down. It’s best to avoid her for a while, though. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
Dad hugged me. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
“Get some rest. I’ll bring some food in for you later.”
“Thanks.”
Dad stood and left. The rest of the night, I stayed in my room, headphones on with loud music to try to drown out the sound of my parents arguing. Talking with Dad had made me feel better, but it didn’t change the fact the Mum hated my guts, Dad wouldn’t give me his blessing and I wouldn’t get any money.
I slunk off to school the next day without so much as a word to my mother. I just couldn’t face her. Nor could I face her after school. Instead of going home, I went straight to Opulence to see Priscilla. She would make me feel better.
When I entered the shop, Priscilla swept towards me. “Lovely to see you, Ivy.”
“Thanks for letting me come over.”
“Oh, that’s fine. Is something bothering you?”
“I told my parents I want to study creative writing.”
“Oh dear. And they didn’t take it too well?”
“No. They didn’t.”
Priscilla hugged me. “Everything will be okay.”
A customer entered the shop.
“Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable upstairs? Julian’s not here. I’ll bring up tea later.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I went upstairs while Priscilla attended to the customer.
The sunlight was already beginning to fade. I turned on the light in the studio. All was still. I looked at the easel to sneak a peek at Julian’s work-in-progress—a picture of a beautiful girl sitting with a distant expression on her face. I admired the picture for a while before realising she looked familiar. Finally, it clicked.
It’s me.
It was the finished version of the portrait he had been working on.
Is this how he sees me? I thought, somewhat surprised.
The more closely I looked at it, the more I could see the resemblance. I studied it for some time before going to Julian’s desk. I pulled out my iPod and put my headphones on. While listening to music, I flicked through my notebook, cringing at the writing within.
Priscilla came up momentarily, carrying a silver tray. On it, were two teacups, a pot of earl grey and two slices of chocolate cake. “I’ve locked up downstairs.”
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“I wanted to.” She poured me a cup of tea. “Tell me everything.”
I relayed everything to Priscilla while she listened attentively. When I had finished, Priscilla asked what I intended to do.
“I’m going to apply to the Elias Institute,” I said, firmly.
“So, you’re not going to back down?”
“No.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
“Relieved, I guess.”
“Then you know you’ve made the right decision.”
“And my parents?”
“They’ll get over it. If they love you, they’ll understand.”
I sighed. “It feels like my mum hates me right now.”
“Just give her some time. She’ll come around. I promise.”
Talking with Priscilla made me feel much more at ease.
Heavy footsteps approached up the stairs. Julian entered. His hair was a mess, his eyes were red, and he hadn’t shaved.
“You’re back,” Priscilla said.
“I left early. Ivy, what are you doing here?”
“Sorry, I was just…”
Julian grinned sheepishly. “Don’t worry about it. You can come anytime you want.” He sat down on the couch and yawned, stretching his arms above his head.
Priscilla checked the time. “I’m having guests over at my house tonight, so I’d better get going.”
Julian nodded.
I started gathering my things.
Julian stopped me. “You can stay, if you want.”
“Well, okay.”
Priscilla left with a goodbye and a hug for each of us.
Before an awkward silence could pervade the room, I spoke. “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Have you found a new model?”
“No. Actually, I haven’t been drawing much lately. Not since the last time you came over.”
“What? It’s been a month!”
Julian hung his head. “I know.”
“Are you still upset over what Woody said?”
“No. It’s grown into something much bigger than
that. I’m unable to work at all. I don’t know what’s happened to me.”
So, a guy as talented as Julian could still suffer artist’s block.
“Priscilla thinks I need a break.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
Julian nodded. “I’ve pretty much been working non-stop since I left high school. That was more than two years ago now.”
“No wonder you’re burnt out.”
“I’m thinking of going on holiday. Maybe a change of scenery will help me.”
“Actually, I’m planning on taking a break myself.”
“Really?”
“My grandparents own a lodge down south. They’ve invited me to come visit them.”
“Sounds nice. I haven’t been to the South Island in a long time.”
I studied Julian’s face. What would he say if I invited him? I was allowed to bring a friend with me, after all.
Before allowing myself to fully think it through, I blurted, “You know, they said it would be okay if I brought a friend along with me. You could come… If you want to.”
Julian looked surprised, but not horrified by the suggestion, much to my relief.
“Really?”
“Yes. Lana can’t come, so…”
“When do you plan on going?”
“Next weekend.”
“That’s soon. I can probably sort out someone to cover for me at Lucky Books…”
“So, you’ll come, then?” I tried not to sound too delighted.
“Yes. If the offer’s still available.”
“Of course, it is. I’ll tell my grandparents tonight. You’ll need to sort your own plane ticket.”
“That’s fine.”
“Great. Then it’s agreed.”
I kept waiting for Julian to change his mind, but he didn’t. This is really going to happen. Julian and I would spend a weekend together. My mind raced with the possibilities. Julian seemed just as excited as me.
18
“Have a good time, my dear. Say hello to Ma and Pa for me,” Dad said, passing me my bag from the boot.
“Will do.” I gave him a hug goodbye and then entered the airport. After checking in, I looked around for Julian. I didn’t see him anywhere. I checked my phone in case he had texted me.
No new messages.
I sat down in the departures area and pulled out one of the novels I had packed. I was deeply absorbed in the book when a hand touched my shoulder.