Okay. So she didn’t quite say it like that, but she may as well have. The disappointment in her tone was enough of an indicator of how fun this conversation is going to be.
I knock on her hotel room door, shoving my hands in my pockets while I wait for her to answer. She does after a few minutes, a glass of white wine in hand.
“I’m glad you could find the time to come here,” Mum says, walking into her room.
“You honestly made it sound like I didn’t have much of a choice.” I nudge the door shut behind me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Blake, but I think you should come home.”
I stare at her, unmoving, for a long moment before I speak. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
Mum sighs, putting her glass on the side. “I think it would be better if you came home and moved back in with us. I spoke to Yvette this morning – she said there’s a job open for you if you want it.”
“No way.” I shake my head, folding my arms across my chest. “I live here, Mum. You never cared where I lived before – why does it matter so much now?”
“That isn’t true,” she protests. “You know I’m busy with work. I didn’t think you’d stay here as long as you have, I’ll be honest, son. I thought you’d be back in a couple of weeks.”
“You do realize I’m an adult, therefore perfectly capable of taking care of myself?”
“Yes, yes, I know you are.” She sighs heavily and rubs her temples, like this conversation is wearing her down already. “I just don’t know if New York is right for you.”
It clicks.
“This is about Abbi isn’t it?”
Mum says nothing, busying herself with packing her suitcase.
“Isn’t it?” I raise my voice. She hesitates long enough for me to catch it. “Unreal. Even for you, Mum, this is bloody unreal.”
“She’s not exactly who I pictured my son ending up with. Then again, I didn’t expect him to be a dancer either.”
“I get it – I do. I’m the disappointment and all that, but I don’t get what Abbi has to do with this.”
“She’s not good enough for you.”
“What?” I half-yell, half-laugh. “What the hell makes you think that? Doesn’t she have enough money? Enough connections in your social circle?”
“It’s not that at all.”
“Then what is it?!”
“She’s…” Mum slams her suitcase shut, turning and facing me. “She’s ill, Blake. It’s not fair for you to take on that burden. You know what happens with people like her-”
““People like her?”” I shake my head slowly, throwing my arms up. “Exactly what does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“So because my sister killed herself, and Abbi has depression it means she will too? God, Mum. Talk about tarring people with the same brush.”
Mum breathes in sharply. “This is not about your sister.”
“It never is, is it?”
“Blake.”
“No, Mum. It is about Tori, otherwise you wouldn’t have a problem with a girl you’ve met once. You know nothing about Abbi yet you feel like you can judge her just because she has depression. Why? Because she doesn’t hide it? Because she accepts the fact she has it? What is it that bothers you, really?”
“I find it very hard to believe you have any interest in this girl other than trying to save her because none of us saved Tori,” she spits.
“And she stars again,” I mutter, rubbing my hands down my face. “It’s not because of Tori. Maybe that’s what drew me to her in the first place, but when I look at Abbi all I see is Abbi. Not Tori, not the past. I see Abbi and the goddamn future. Do you understand that, Mum? I don’t see the weakness Tori had, or the way she gave up. I see a girl who accepts the shit she’s been thrown and gets the hell on with it – I see someone with a dream and a fight for life Tori never had. Abbi wants to live, and I want to help her do that. For her. No one else.”
Mum is quiet for a long second. “You came here for Tori.”
“Wrong. I came here for me. I won’t leave because of the promise I made her, but I came here for me.”
“You are making a mistake, Blake.”
“I think I’m old enough to decide that for myself,” I reply coldly. “I’m sorry I wasn’t interested enough in law to work with Dad, or attracted enough to the stuck-up girls you shoved in my face for years. I’m sorry I never played football like Jase does, but mostly I’m sorry you and Dad have never been able to accept me for who I am. And I’m not coming home. I’m making a life here in New York for myself. I have a job, a place to live, a route to my dream, and despite what you say, I have a girl I’d move heaven and Earth for if I had to. If me being happy is disappointing to you, then that’s your problem, Mum.” I glance at my watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I have a job to get to.”
I ignore her shocked calls of my name, pull the room door open, and disappear down the hall to the lift. The doors shut in front of me, and I breathe out, relaxing my shoulders.
Good God.
I should have done that bloody years ago.
Chapter Nineteen – Abbi
I run my fingers down the seam of the short sleeved leotard I haven’t worn for two years. I have no idea if it’ll even fit me now.
I breathe deeply and step out of my clothes, ready to pull it on. Even if I only ever wear it at home when I dance in the garage, it’s something, and it’s more than I would have done before.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I straighten, the leotard still in my hand. I close my eyes. My number one rule is not to get changed in front of the mirror, not to see the marks that cover my body, but this time it feels different. I feel like I can open my eyes and look at them for the first time ever.
So I do.
My eyes crawl across my slender frame, toned from dancing, and they take in every spot, blemish and scar marring my skin. I look at every one, examining them like I can remember when each one happened. The last ones are the easiest to see – they’re whiter, thicker, and more raised than the others.
Each one has a story to tell, each one a scene in a horrifying chapter of my life I can’t delete.
I scrutinize them all from my arms to my legs. And finally, I accept them for what they are.