Lucy Lahey trusted the man she was dating, and it turned out to be her biggest mistake. Reeling in the aftermath of a rape that stole not only her virginity, but her confidence, her love for MMA, her clarity and more, Lucy now finds herself in Jerse...
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Nari goes home in the morning, after we've fed up on cold leftover pizza. Her mom expects her back for Church, so I lay in bed after she's gone and check Instagram.
It's the same old, same old. Niles left a love heart comment on my photo with Nari, we posted a snapshot from our pizza night at Nick's.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of No Doubt coming from somewhere in the house, it's muffled by walls and distance but I know immediately, mom is cleaning. Sunday is cleaning.
She turns on her nostalgic hits, the ones she listened to in her teens and she dances around the house while she mops and vacuums.
Obsessive cleaning has been her crutch for as long as I can remember. She told me once that her mom was absent a lot, left her home alone to take care of herself which meant mom had to learn a thing or two about maintaining a house. It wasn't until dad left that it got bad.
Aunt Ellie said it was just one of those coping mechanisms people developed. I was always grateful that her drinking didn't amplify. It had the potential to.
Downstairs in the living room, I find mom on a ladder, dusting the lampshades. She's wearing her leggings and an old t-shirt; her hair is pulled into a bun.
She bops along to the music, humming the words. I watch her for a little while, guilt surfacing over the fact that things aren't the same between us. Why do I get so pissed off with her all the time?
"Need some help?" I ask, it seems like a good peace offering. Mom looks down at me with her mouth parted in surprise.
"Oh, has Nari gone home?" She asks, I nod. "Oh. You don't have to help, honey. You must have some unpacking to do?"
I do, but it's not urgent. "What has to be done?" I ask.
She looks around and lazily gestures at the fire mantle. "That has to be dusted. Oh, and the windowsills."
Still in my cotton pyjama pants and hoodie, I wander over, grab a cloth and start cleaning.
We work quietly for a while, moving around the room, dusting, vacuuming, spot cleaning little scuffs on the walls. The further into it we get, the more we find to clean, I can see how it turns into a whole day rather than a few hours.
Finally, when we've moved onto the dining room, mom looks at me.
"How was last night?"
"Fine," I say, sifting through her bucket of products in search of the wood polish. We don't use the dining room that often, so the table only needs a light wipe.
"Back to school tomorrow," she says. "Good thing there was a spot available last minute."
"Yeah, that was lucky."
"Coen is there too now," she hovers behind me while I push the dining room chairs aside to splash the table with polish. "You could drive together? Use the car if you want?"
