Page 38 of Good Girls Lie
My mother, on the other hand, good old Sylvia, newly monied and married to an icon, loves to show it off. She takes full advantage of the Carr treasures to hold lavish feasts for important and interesting people.
This space used to be the site of so much fun. I’d watch the festivities from the anteroom, getting in Dorsey’s way as she sent up the courses. Laughter, the clinking of china and goblets, the room growing more uproarious as the cellar was raided again and again.
He went along with it for a while. Then he put a stop to the parties. My mother cried and whimpered and begged, but Damien is like granite, implacable when he makes up his mind.
I’ve drifted. My parents are staring at me. My mother wears a semblance of a smile—the opening salvo. I laugh. I might be a little too high.
“Ashlyn, please sit down.”
I’ve been sleeping rough for two nights, bunking on the floor of a friend’s flat in the village. A rat has gnawed the edge of my messenger bag. I don’t move. The Molly, whilst making me warm and fuzzy, has my feet planted.
My father gives it a try.
“Ashlyn, I shouldn’t have lost my temper. I apologize.” This is said stiffly, and I know he doesn’t mean it. There’s a reason he’s seeking détente. Why?
I stay standing but sway a bit, toward the closest chair. Finally, I collapse into it. My legs are tired. I am so, so tired.
“Your mother and I have discussed this at length, and we believe it’s time for you to go away to school. There’s a lovely all-girls spot in America. It’s called The Goode School. It’s for children of the elite.”
“I won’t go.” The words are out before I have a thought. I have no desire to go away to school. I barely go here anymore, why in the world would I agree to go to America and be locked away inside with a bevy of squealing quims?
“You don’t have a choice. You are going. It’s been settled with the school already. You must do a formal interview with the headmistress. We can set up a Skype call, she’s agreed to it since you don’t live close enough for an in-person visit in time.”
I shake my head and he holds up a hand.
“You aren’t happy here. I understand how hard your life has been—”oh, the sarcasm, Daddy, so appropriate just now“—being the daughter of two parents who love you very much and only want what’s best for you.”
Mum launches her gambit. “You’ve left us no choice, Ashlyn. The drinking, the drugs, the running away, it will stop now. You will go to America, which gets you far, far away from us, which is all you really want, as you’ve told us so many times. You’ll be among peers, girls who are just as intelligent as you. You won’t be bored by the provincial school districts anymore. It’s like a college, really, you choose your path of instruction. This is for the best.”
I have zero intention of following this course but I need all the information I can get.
“And when is this blessed occurrence taking place?”
“You leave in August. Term begins earlier there.”
August. It is June now. I’ll have to work fast. There’s only one way for me to truly be free.
I have two months to plan how they die.
Quote
“Time passes, and little by little everything that we have spoken in falsehood becomes true.”
—Marcel Proust
OCTOBER
Marchburg, Virginia
25
THE RISE
It doesn’t take long to realize Becca’s attention has given me the greatest gift—the cachet of approval from a senior. Why have I, a lowly transfer sophomore, of no real provenance, been singled out?
It is an instant anointment.
I employ the one tool in my arsenal—silence. It only adds to the mystique.
