Page 24 of Drama Queen

I’ve always wondered if they would have wanted to know me. But it’s their loss. I’ve had a good life so far, and my mum more than made up for an absentee father and his shitty, elitist family.

Two

Countless empty boxes later,and the space is finally starting to resemble a room, aside from the various piles of shirts, skirts, dresses, pants, and jackets on the bed, bay-window bench, desk, armchair, floor... Why do I have so many clothes?

I am again thankful that Mum gave the main bedroom with a walk-in robe and en suite to me—insisting she didn’t need as much space and was happy to take the smaller room at the front of the house downstairs as her bedroom, and the tiny third room as her home office—as I strip off and jump in the shower. Sorting the clean clothes seemed pointless while I was covered in sweat and grime.

Once clean and refreshed, I am standing in front of the mirror, doing my skincare routine, when I hear the bedroom door open and footsteps approach. As I open my mouth to call out to Mum that I’m in the bathroom, a tall figure slinks past the partially open bathroom door. I freeze initially, fear spearing through me, then I remember the security company has been installing the new systems in the house. I breathe a sigh of relief and quietly step over to the bathroom door, intending to closeit for privacy while the guy goes about his job. But when I get to the door, I am stunned to find a middle-aged man holding my dirty tank top up to his face and breathing deeply. Gross. He scrunches the top up, stuffing it in his pocket, and moves to pick up my underwear from the floor next.

“Not sure they’re really your colour, mate. I would personally recommend the red lace instead.” My words drip with sarcasm, and I shoulder open the door whilst using my hand to hold up the towel I am wrapped in, startling him.

He pivots in my direction and drops into some kind of fighting stance. I clearly took him by surprise, but overreaction much? He straightens but doesn’t seem to relax any. “Sorry, darl. I didn’t know anyone was in here. I’m with the security team that’s fitting the window sensors,” he says, pointing to the company emblem on the T-shirt he’s wearing. “I was just going to clear the clothes from the floor, so I don’t step on them accidentally when I bring the tools in. But I can come back later...” He walks back to the bedroom door.

“And the tank top you pocketed? Was that so you didn’t step on it too?”

In the blink of an eye, he’s gone. What the hell? A man just vanished right in front of me!

I race out of the room and charge down the stairs after him.

“Aria!” comes my mum’s shocked scream from behind me. “What on earth has possessed you to run out in public basically naked?”

“Where did he go? That asshole stole my shirt!”

“Where did who go? What shirt? Aria, what’s going on?” It’s the panic in my mum’s voice that breaks through my angry haze.

“One of the contractors was in my room when I got out of the shower, sniffing my dirty shirt. I am pretty sure my underwear was next, the creep. When I confronted him, he ran.”

I watch Mum’s face go so pale I’m scared she’s about to pass out.

Quickly, I move towards her side. “I’m fine, Mum. He didn’t try anything. He didn’t hurt me. I’m just pissed,” I say, attempting to reassure her. “Where is the supervisor? I will get this guy’s details and we can lodge a formal complaint. He will never get a job in this industry again by the time I am finished with him.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s too late,” she says in what sounds a lot like a tone of defeat.

“What? No, it isn’t. I’ll take care of it, Mum,” I say, turning to go back upstairs. “I’ll just put on something more than a towel before I track down the supervisor and give him the ear lashing of a lifetime. What kind of bullshit show are they running anyhow, having a pervert on the payroll, going into women’s homes on the premise of making them safe, when they are just providing an opportunity for him to paw through our underwear drawers and get his sick jollies!” My rant is met with unusual silence, so I turn back at the foot of the stairs.

Mum looks up at me from where she has sunk to the floor, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I tried to protect you. I never wanted this for you.”

“Mum, this isn’t your fault,” I say, lowering to the floor to take her hands in mine softly. “You cannot possibly blame yourself for this. It is completely unreasonable to think you would have knowingly let a weirdo with panty-sniffing proclivities into our home and my room.” I’m utterly confused by her sudden guilt.

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I guess I was just so shocked something like this would happen,” she says, rising from the floor and wiping her face. “I am just being silly. You know how much I worry about you.”

“I know, but I promise I’m alright. Just angry,” I assure her. “I’ll go get dressed and we can go talk to the supervisor. Get this guy’s details and go from there.”

“Okay, princess,” she says, using my childhood nickname. A small smile is on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes, which only confirms how rattled she is. I rise and walk up the stairs to my room, but I swear her hand is shaking when I glance back.

I quickly change and jog back downstairs, searching through the ground floor for my mum, to find her sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter with a cup of tea in her hand. A middle-aged man stands on the other side of the counter, pouring a coffee into another cup. I’m guessing he is the supervisor.

They both look up when I walk in, Mum still pale enough to worry me. “You must be Aria,” he says, handing me a cup. “Can you explain what happened with the man in your room?”

I nod my thanks for the coffee and take up the stool next to Mum. “Where would you like to start? With the questions about your hiring policy and clearly inadequate background checks? Or should I just launch into the creep you brought into our home, and how you are going to give me a copy of his employment record for the police report I will be filing? Perhaps we can talk numbers for the compensation you will be paying to my mother, who you can clearly see has been significantly impacted by this gross viola?—”

“Aria!”

My mum’s shocked voice stuns me before I can finish the speech I had put together whilst getting dressed, which was supposed to set the tone for this meeting.

I turn to her quickly, but notice she is looking at the supervisor with embarrassment on her face. “Please forgive my daughter. She has had a rough afternoon, as I’m sure you can understand.”

She’s apologising tohim?

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