Umbilicus: An autobiographical novel

1991: CONSEQUENCES

'YOU THINK YOU'RE SUCH a grown-up having sex? Then be a grown-up and deal with the consequences.' She doesn't mince her words. 'I'm almost done raising my own kids. I'm certainly not about to start raising someone else's.'

You'd confided in Angela's step-mother you'd missed your period and thought you may be pregnant; she went and told Angela's father, who in turn went and phoned Dad. Dad had then obviously asked Mom to deal with it, and the shit had hit the fan, in a big way. Your whole world is spinning out of control and it feels like your head might explode.

'Fine! I'll just kill myself!' The little voice that escapes your throat is strangled, weak, hysterical.

'Don't make threats you cannot keep.'

You despise her right then, with every fibre of your being. 'I hate you! I'm so glad you're not my real mother!' You burst into tears and bolt to the safety of your room, slamming the door behind you with such force that the ceiling boards sigh and ripple. You can't lock the damn thing because she has removed the keys from all the locks inside the house.

She yanks open the door and storms in behind you, all five foot four of her bristling with rage. 'Don't you dare slam doors in this house!' Her face is centimetres from yours, pupils like pin pricks. A couple of alley cats, hackles raised, hissing, poised to strike.

'Get out of my room!' Even though it's winter, your windows are open a crack, as you always feel like you're slowly suffocating when they're not. By now you are sure the neighbours on either side and across the street can hear the fight, and are standing at their own windows, trying to catch the odd word or snippet of sentence, to see what it's all about.

'This may be "your" room, but this is my house,' she snarls.

'Fine! I'll leave! That's what you've been wanting all along anyway!'

'And where exactly will you go, Charlotte?' Patronising. Daring you to snap.

'Anywhere away from you! From this toxic environment!' She knows you have nowhere to go, that you'll just pretend to run away, only to come crawling back with your tail between your legs after a few hours, like you've done so many times in the past. And you resent her for that, for the ultimate control she wields over your life.

'Believe me, if we could afford to send you to boarding school, we would've done so a long time ago.'

'Why do you hate me so much?'

Her face is slack, her eyes vacant, feigning boredom.

'Because I'll never be what you wanted? What you think you deserved? Well, I'm so sorry if I disappoint you, if I embarrass you, if I'm a constant reminder of how you think you were cheated out of not having a real daughter of your own!'

She rolls her eyes. Taunting.

'Oh, and just for the record, I never asked to be a part of this stupid fake family. That was your doing. I'm sick to death of all your emotional blackmail, making me feel like I should be grateful to you for taking me in. If you hadn't, someone else would have. And I'm quite sure we would've all been a lot happier.'

'Look, I'm glad you got that off your chest, but I really don't have the time or the energy to be dealing with all your melodramatics right now. Stay in your room till your father gets home.' She turns on her heel and stalks out.

'There you go again!' You scream down the passage after her. 'Walking away from the problem, sweeping everything under the carpet, just hoping it'll go away on its own. Well, it won't!' You slam the door again, this time with such violence a hairline crack appears and snakes up the plaster on the wall.