Supervoid Sector

Unreal

The nautical maritime brass counter bell (stuck inappropriately to the front door, instead of on a desk) rings loudly throughout a yard and inside a small house, which is painted burning tomato orange and matcha powder green in lurid stripes. It has a bendy chimney with a powder yellow roof and severe, astragal, cast iron windows with cartoon rabbits patterned on the curtains like children's paper cutouts. 

The door creaks open and only teeth can be seen at first. Rows of uneven teeth. Then a mouth appears, crusty chapped lips as thin as a sliver of calamari. Then a moustache. It's blonde and straggly. When the whole head appears it's obvious the man has grown it to match his three long hairs that are there to hide the bald patch in the middle of his head. It looks utterly stupid, but Hedy's Dad has always been proud of it because he says it makes him look intimidating.  Nothing about him is intimating at first glance, certainly not the waistcoat he likes to wear, which is turquoise with a cyan blue shirt underneath and neon grey shorts to match. They barely reach his mid-thighs.

"Who... ?" He says, peering uncertainty, keeping one hand on the door so he can slam it shut again.

It's not shocking he doesn't remember Hedy. The last time they spoke was three years ago at her cousin's wedding.

"Dad, I'm Hedy."

"Oh Hedy!! I forgot you were coming. Welcome dear. Your mother's making hotchpotch of lamb offal for lunch."

"Uhm, I'm allergic to lamb." Hedy says awkwardly. 

"...Right. Are you... sure? I remember how much you used to love it — the heart, the lungs and livers, chitterlings, all of those."

He's probably thinking of her brother, Isaac. He's always thinking of her brother.

"I've never been able to eat meat, especially not tough." Hedy murmurs, looking down.

"Why are you looking down? You know I can't stand people who won't look me in the eyes." Dad's voice is still cheery but there seems to be a dangerous tinge underneath. 

Hedy lifts her head and looks up. Dad's eyes flash an ugly ice blue, like lightning in a stormy night.

Then he suddenly smiles. 

"There's dessert too if you want some. Remember how much you used to love Macun?"

Macun used to be Hedy's punishment food.

Isaac loved it though.

Her Dad is staring at her hopefully. It's simpler just to smile and nod. They begin to walk inside. He has her wipe her shoes on the doormat and then take them off.

"This reminds me, I've got the attic all cleaned up for you. You can't sleep in your old bedroom unfortunately because your brother is bringing his escort girlfriend over and I'm not having them putting the sour cream in the burrito... ahem. You know. Moistening the bedsheets."

"Ew dad." Hedy mimes being sick. 

Her Dad laughes and pinches her nose and it's like they're getting along again, the way they used to when she was very very little.

"You know I found drawings of that imaginary friend you used to have, when I was cleaning up. Annie or whatever."

"Atty?"

"Yeah her. Terribly creepy friend for a little kid to imagine. Those eyes-"

"They. Their pronouns were they. One of their eyes was gouged out but I wasn't terrified of them throughout my childhood. They never hurt me, unlike..."

"For God's sake, Hedvig. Victimizing yourself again?" Dad hisses, digging his dirty fingernails into her shoulder. "Just you remember whose roof you are under. We know you better than anyone, your mother and I. You were a little devil as a child. How else were we to cope? We did what had to be done."

He throws her forward, smack into the closed kitchen door.

"Here Hedy, you must have forgotten how this door opens." He laughs, twisting the handle and shooing her into the kitchen. 

A woman in a long pale pink poodle skirt and shocking pink angora bolero is standing with her back to them, icing a strawberry cake. She looks very pretty from the side, with rouge on her pale cheeks and thinly pencilled eyebrows. She turns and her youthful appearance diminishes slightly. The eyebrows have been drawn on, she doesn't have any under the drawing. Her eyes are deeply wrinkled around the kohl outline and her painfully bright pink lipstick has crept into the wrinkles up her top lip and below.

She looks at Hedy. "Are you Issy's girlfriend?' You can hear the judgment in her voice, the  disgust. But her smile stays intact inside her clown's mouth.

Hedy swallows hard. She tries to say something but nothing comes out. The silence is awkward. 

Eventually Dad smiles tensely at the woman. 

"Don't be silly my love. This is our daughter. Hedy."

The woman blinks.

"Helle?" Hedy says as if they'd only just met.

Helle is shaking her head. She clearly can't believe Hedy could possibly be her daughter. 

"No! You look nothing like... Nothing!" She says desperately, dropping her icing pipe on the floor.

"That's because she's grown up, darling. Calm down now. Let's look at this cake. I thought you were making Macun?"

Helle is a little distracted by this and begins explaining at length how she found the recipe in a book from the attic. 

"I just need yeast now... Hey uh... Hedy?? Can you go and get me two cubes of fresh yeast from the bakery? Oh and return these two empty glass lemonade bottles first to get money for the yeast." 

"Yes Helle."

"Call me Mrs Olsën, Hedy." Her mother says coldly.