Page 14 of Insta-Love

SEVEN

Ava

“What did you want me to do with this chicken for dinner?” I prop the phone on my shoulder and hunt through Mum’s pantry for some sort of packet mix or sauce that I can add to spice up the meal.

“There are breadcrumbs and mixed herbs in the cupboard if you wanted to coat the fillets?”

These calls have become routine: me doing what I can to feel useful while my parents work. I feel bad enough that I can’t contribute to the groceries each week. Mum tells me not to worry, but I’ve never been one to comfortably freeload off of another person. Cooking and cleaning seems like the least I can do for her.

“Can I use the salad in the fridge? That’s not for your lunch?”

“No, you can use it.”

“Okay. Herb crusted chicken with garden salad it is.” I nod at Lily when she waves her hand in front of my face to indicate she’s heading out the front of the house to skate for a bit.

“Sounds lovely,” Mum answers. “I need to go; my other line is flashing.”

“Okay. I’ll see you when you get home.”

The call disconnects and I place the phone back in its cradle. The soft click of the front door echoes through the entrance after Lily, and I place my hands to my hips and sigh. The house is so quiet—too quiet. I cross over to the home theatre and switch it across to Bluetooth then connect my phone. With a simple tap of my finger, classic Nirvana erupts from the speakers, drowning out the echo of my thoughts and distracting me from the problems in my life for a while.

Two more job applications, one interview, and still no luck. The options are limited for a woman with no formal qualifications like me. Thanks to Lily’s father, I never finished school. Running about living life on the edge seemed so much more important at fifteen, but if present-me could go back and talk to past-me, I can tell you now there wouldn’t be many words spoken, just a sharp slap to the senses.

Knowing that my past choices are what have left me in this conundrum is the thing that’s the hardest to swallow. I put myself here. I shot myself in the foot and made myself undesirable to prospective employers.

The song shifts to a slower Alice in Chains track and I open the fridge to pull out the bottle of wine. With a glass that holds more than a standard drink in one hand, I retrieve the ingredients for dinner with the other. The vino is half gone and my hands are covered with breadcrumbs and egg mix when a solid thumping rattles the front door in its enclosure.

“Shit.” I whack the tap on with my elbow and rinse my hands off best I can, wondering why the hell Lily’s resorted to pounding on the door. Maybe she accidentally locked it after herself?

I wipe my hands on a towel as I walk toward the entrance and frown at the size of the shadow on the other side of the frosted glass panel. Too big for Lily. Unease settles in my chest as I reach out and open the door to find the cocky arsehole from next door.

“About fucking time,” he snaps and spins heel, striding away.

“What the—” I choke on my words when I see Lily seated in the open passenger side of his Jeep, tears streaming her face. “Baby, what happened?”

“Mum.”

“What happened?” I repeat as I reach her.

“She hurt her ankle pretty bad,” Gym-Boy snaps. “You’d know that if you were paying attention.”

I ignore his snide remark for the time being and focus on Lily. “Show me. I’ll get you some …” My words drift off and I sigh when I note I’ve already been beaten to the punch; she holds an ice-pack on her ankle.

“I thought I sprained it,” she explains, “but I can’t walk on it or stand without it hurting too much.”

Shit. “Okay.” I absently pat my pockets. “Let me grab the keys and my purse, and we’ll take you to the doctor.” With my car that still doesn’t run … Damn it. I frown while I try to work out if I’ll have enough to cover a taxi; should be cheaper than the call out fee for an ambulance given we have no insurance.

I glance up to find our neighbour standing off to my right with his arms crossed high on his chest, the deepest look of contempt scoured into his face. He doesn’t need to open his mouth; it’s splashed across his ridiculously appealing features. He thinks this is my fault for leaving her to play alone.

“What?” I snap. “She’s seven years old—she doesn’t need me watching her every move any more. This was a freak accident.”

“Maybe so, but if you had the door open, or in the very least your fucking music turned down you would have heard her yelling when she did it.” He throws an angry hand toward his house. “I was inside watching the footy and I still heard her.”

“Fuck you,” I mumble as I turn away to retrieve my things from the house. “I don’t need this right now. I’ll be back in a sec, Lily.”

I bolt indoors, feeling every bit the shittiest mother alive as I ensure everything’s turned off in the kitchen, and then retrieve my purse and keys. Broody McBrooderson still stares daggers when I re-emerge and lock up behind me. I shoot a poignant scowl his way as I cross over and bring my phone up to dial for a ride. He begins to help Lily out of his Jeep, but hesitates when he sees me on my phone.

“Fine time to be posting a fucking status update.”

---