Two of a Mind (3 page)

Can't explain anything until I figure it out for myself.

The thought of telling the 'rents was turning my stomach.

“Dez! Are you coming down for some breakfast?”

“Be there in a minute, Dad.”

I grabbed my favourite pair of jeans and a reasonably crease-free T-shirt. Mum regularly complained about the state of my bedroom floor – covered in clothing that should've been neatly tucked away in the wardrobe until I needed to wear it. So what? I was a regular teenager. I have to admit, I did do it simply to wind her up sometimes. She was always finding an excuse to come in, especially if I had friends with me.

The smell of Dad's freshly ground coffee wafted through the house as I came out of my sanctuary. I struggled to hold down the rising panic and threatening tears. A few deep breaths helped slow down my heart and eased the shaking of my hands. As soon as I entered the kitchen, I could sense that the 'rents had been discussing the party. Mum's eyes were red and puffy – I expect my blubbing was just as obvious – and Dad had the set expression that meant he was going to keep calm despite huge provocation.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said and he kissed the top of my head as I sat down at the table.

“Morning.”

I poured a cup of tea, hoping it would settle my stomach. I could tell Mum was desperate to talk about my reaction to the connection last night, but Dad must have said something to keep her at bay so she tried a bright and breezy – and totally false – “Got anything special planned for today, Desirée?”

“Just thought I'd head into town. Spend some of those gift-credits if I see anything nice.” My response was equally forced but I had to keep my secret to myself. I couldn't handle the fallout just yet. I needed time to think, something I generally did using my best friend as a sounding board.

And why had Seth deserted me just when I needed him most? In fact, why isn't he knocking at the back door now, checking to see if I'm okay? Huh! I'll go down to the Centre and mooch about all day just to stay away from the 'rents and their enquiring looks. Maybe it'll turn on later today – a sort of delayed reaction. Yeah, that's it. Probably just that I'm not really sixteen until later this afternoon.

I'd conveniently forgotten that the precise time of birth didn't matter. The stroke of midnight to start your sixteenth birthday was the trigger point like all good fairytales. Only this seemed more like a horror story.

“Don't forget we've got a birthday tea party organised.”

“Yes, Mum.” I tried to be civilised. I even gave her a peck on the cheek as I left the breakfast table, hoping she didn't notice that I hadn't eaten anything.

I looked at myself in the mirror as I cleaned my teeth. The toothbrush buzzed around my mouth making the toothpaste dribble down my chin as I stared at the reflection. I hardly recognised myself. It happens sometimes, when you stare at something familiar for so long it seems to transform into something completely alien. I was looking at a stranger. For a moment I thought;
this is it!
But as I brought the image back into focus I realised it was still just me in the mirror – still just me in my empty head.

People had been generous with their gifts for my sixteenth. I'd have tons of thank you letters to write. Mum still insisted on old-fashioned, formal emails even if I'd said thanks via Holo-Comms, Txt or face-to-face. Oh well, it would give me an excuse to hide in my room for several hours over the next few days. I scanned the gift-credit vouchers onto my wrist-chip, topping-up my spending account; grabbed my retro-denim bag; dragged on a pair of scuffed but comfy ankle boots and picked up a lightweight jumper. They had the air-conditioning set really cool at the shopping centre and whenever I went in there from the warm summer sunshine I always ended up with gooseflesh on my arms.

“See you later,” I called over my shoulder as I dashed out of the front door, hoping to avoid further conversation.

“Don't be late!” I heard Mum reply.

The boarding-sensor on the ecotram beeped as it registered my wrist-chip. As the vehicle speaker announced the route, a familiar figure ran alongside the tram and managed to board just before the doors closed. His hair messier than ever, Seth came down the aisle towards my seat.

“How's the hangover birthday girl? You look like you didn't get much sleep.”

“And you look like you still haven't managed to work out what to do with a comb!”

A brief expression of confusion crossed Seth's face. His unruly hair was often a source of fun between us but this time he heard anger in my tone. He struggled to smooth his curls down with his hands and then studied the passing landscape rather than trying to find out what was wrong.

Typical!

“Hey! I'm gonna hurl. Open the frikkin' door will ya?” A muscular, dishevelled man was banging on the driver's screen trying to make her engage the override button. The hurler was obviously trying to skip his fare but ‘Maddie' wasn't having any of it.

“Sir there are labelled bio-waste bags in the seat pockets if you are feeling unwell,” she said via her intercom. “I suggest you return to your seat until the designated stop. I can request a medic to meet us there if you need assistance?” She turned her dainty head and stared the fare-hopper down.

“Frikkin' Holo-Bots!” he muttered as he shuffled back to his seat.

For a few moments there, I'd almost smiled at the comic situation but it wasn't so easy to switch on the happy me. Seth glanced at me to see if my mood was thawing and I recognised his disappointment as he quickly turned back to the window. The rest of the journey passed without further entertainment from ‘Mr Hurler' and his wrist-chip must've had enough credit `cos he stepped off the tram at our stop without any problems. Maybe the two security officers who happened to be near the Mall-Stop might've had something to do with his suddenly improved behaviour.

We entered the shopping centre and Seth automatically reached out to hold my bag as I struggled to pull on my jumper. He tried to start our conversation again.

“Can I treat you to a coffee or something? Our own small celebration for your birthday? I know your family have plans for later.”

A refusal was on the tip of my tongue. I was still angry with him for his disappearance last night but my conscience was pricking me.
Maybe I should give him chance to explain.

“Okay,” I replied. “Make it tea
and
a muffin and you're on.”

His face lit up with a smile and I felt like crying again. When he got to the table with the snacks I was back in control.

“One blueberry muffin – healthy, low-fat variety – and tea for madam. Hot chocolate with whipped cream and a nutty choc-chip cookie pour moi!” He set the tray down. He must've had this planned as there was a single burning candle pushed into the top of the muffin. “Happy birthday!”

“Thank
you,
” I said, sarcastically, drooling at sight of the choc-loaded cookie.
He's tormenting me, knowing that I'm trying to keep off the chocolate!

After a few moments of thoughtful chewing on his cookie and slurping through the mound of whipped cream he asked the inevitable.

“What's the matter, Dez? Come on, tell me.”

My throat closed and my eyes filled. I started to shake as I tried to contain my sobs.

“Dez!” Seth became alarmed. “Dez
what is it
?”

“I… it… didn't… it didn't… where were you?” I managed between gulps.

“Sorry?”

“Where were you at midnight? I looked for you and you were gone.”

“It's a time for family. I wanted you to savour the moment.”

“N-no! You know better than that. I was at your party. I was there at midnight to share it with you. Why was it different for you at mine?”

Seth seemed to deflate. He started to pick at the remains of his cookie.

“Look, I know your mum isn't keen on me being around. I just didn't want to cause any more friction between you. Especially at such an important time for you.”

“S'not good enough, Seth.” I sniffed and tried to look as though that was all there was to it.

“Sorry, Dez. I really didn't think you'd notice. I didn't mean to hurt you. You know I wouldn't want that.”

He put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. The feelings of warmth and comfort that his hugs usually brought didn't happen. I shrugged him off and kept my mug of tea in front of my face to hide the disappointment.

“Tell me what to do to put it right,” he said.

“I don't know!” I knew I was sulking but I couldn't help it. If I didn't have the nerve to tell my best friend what had happened, how the hell was I going to tell the 'rents? I grabbed my bag and tried to redeem myself.

“For a start, you can help me fritter some of my birthday credits.”

We spent the best part of the day idly meandering around the shops but I didn't buy much. My heart wasn't in it. As we sat on the ecotram home, I tried a different approach hoping that I could trick myself into sharing my problem.

“You've never said what your PT's like? Hasn't your Bloc unlocked yet?” I asked.

Seth's face went momentarily blank, like a film on pause. Was he asking his PT if he could tell me about them?

I pressed on, “I haven't asked before ‘cos I thought you'd let me know all about them but you've been pretty tight since your party. So, is it 'cos their Bloc won't let you?”

“No. Er, no. It's nothing like that,” he stammered. “It's just … it's difficult, you know? We're best mates, aren't we? Don't you think it's strange to have someone else connected to us in a way that we can't be with each other?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I replied. But I felt short-changed – he hadn't really answered me and now he was hinting that our PTs might come between us, affecting our friendship in ways I hadn't even considered.

At least he's got a bloody PT to share his feelings with!

I'm really not in the mood for a damned tea-party!

“S'only me,” I called, as I opened the front door and tried to head straight upstairs to my room.

“Just a minute,” said Mum from the kitchen door. “Aren't you going to show us what you've bought?”

“Thought you'd want me to get changed for the tea-party.”

“We've got time yet. Come on, let me see what you've spent all your credits on.”

“Really, Mum, there's nothing exciting. Just a couple of bangles and a t-shirt from ‘Q-Tees'.”

“Let her be, love,” soothed Dad, noticing Mum's cheeks colouring up as she started to lose patience. “She wants to get ready and Jen will be here soon. Come and have a cup of tea before you start charging around after everyone else.” He steered her back into the kitchen and winked at me over his shoulder.

I wasn't sure how I was going to cope with another social gathering even if it was going to be just family. Under normal circumstances Aunt Jennifer was a bit of a laugh. She was Dad's younger sister and had been in the same year as Mum at university. Can't imagine how they ended up as best buddies. Mum so old-fashioned, prim and proper and Aunt Jennifer (or Jen as she now insisted on being called) liberal and down-to-earth. Their friendship cooled briefly when Jen got pregnant and refused to tell anyone who the father was. She said that she was “more than capable of bringing up the sprog alone and not going to force a relationship onto a man who wasn't interested in being a father anyway!” The result was Jeremy.

Jeremy was fourteen; a bit of a tear-away and cocky enough to wind up his Aunt Celeste at every given opportunity. He didn't exactly endear himself when he introduced his mother's latest partner: “Dick – as in head!” Mum nearly choked, shocked at her nephew's offensive attitude. Poor Dick just shrugged and gratefully accepted a large whisky from Dad. Jeremy had caught my eye and I'd struggled to keep my mouthful of orange juice from gushing down my nose. He was okay in small doses, I suppose.

I sat on my bed with my eyes closed concentrating like mad. It felt as though I was chasing oxygen in thin air. I knew it had to be there and it was doable but how could I get at it? My head began to ache again as my brows scrunched and my jaw clenched, so I forced myself to relax. Maybe that was my problem, I was trying too hard. It was like that word on the tip of your tongue – it won't come if you keep thinking about it but as soon as you stop worrying it pops into your head.

So I'll just stop worrying and it'll suddenly be there without me even noticing!

I took a deep breath, went to the bathroom to wash my face then changed into my new t-shirt so that Mum could enjoy complaining about the slogan:
“Kiss My A**”
– even though the cartoon of a donkey beneath showed it was a completely innocent request! Anyway, it'd make her feel better about earlier if she could have a good old tut at me.

By the time I got downstairs Jen, Dick and Jeremy had arrived. I could see from the scowl on Jeremy's face that he'd had alternative plans for the evening but he brightened up when he caught sight of my t-shirt. He was anticipating the inevitable barney.

“How's the hangover, Dez?” Jen grinned as she gave me a hug, hiding the ambiguous slogan for the moment. “You wicked child,” she chuckled into my ear.

“Nothing a hair of the dog won't cure,” I replied, looking expectantly at Dad.

“Not a chance!” He handed me a non-alcoholic fruit punch. “You know the law, young lady. Leniency for your Sixteenth but until you are eighteen, limited rations!”

Dad was right to keep me off the booze – it would've made me even more belligerent in my current emotional state. And the headache was still hovering so fruit punch was probably all I could stomach anyway.

“Desirée!” Mum wailed.

Oh yeah, forgot about my t-shirt for a minute.

“What on earth possessed you to buy that… that… crude top?” Mum struggled to find the right description.

“What's wrong with kissing a donkey?” asked Jeremy in his most innocent voice. “Mum snogs her horses all the time!”

He earned himself a light-hearted slap from his mother.

Dad's eyes rolled to the ceiling. It was going to be one of
those
evenings! He put on his best diplomatic face and asked Mum if she needed any help in the kitchen.
Well manoeuvred Dad!
She hurried away to stop him messing things up.

“You are such a naughty girl,” he said to me, smiling and shaking his head as he went after Mum.

“You look exhausted, Dez,” said Jen. “Having trouble sleeping with someone else?” She winked.

“Really, Aunt Jennifer!”

“Jen!”

“Okay – Jen. But tell me, how on earth did you and Mum ever find anything in common?”

“Can't imagine what you mean.” Jen stuck out her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows in mock surprise.

“Come on. How did you two end up as best friends? Mum's so up her own … donkey,” I whispered.

“She wasn't always like that!” Jen seemed to be going into adult mode but at least she was off the subject of my PT.

“Sorry. I take it back. But it's so frustrating sometimes. I can't do anything right. I'm a huge disappointment to her. All I do is annoy her. I wonder why she tried so hard to have me in the first place!”

The sudden silence alerted me. I turned to see Mum framed in the kitchen doorway holding a plate of smoked salmon mousse, Dad behind her with the curly French toast that always breaks before you can spread anything on it.

Her face was ashen, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin ragged line.

“That looks delicious, Celeste.” Dick, bless him, rose to the challenge. He stepped forward to relieve her of the plate so that she could duck back into the kitchen for the sliced lemon, giving her the chance to regain her composure.

I felt like a prize bitch! What was going on with me? I know teenage girls and their mothers often squabble but this was ridiculous. I didn't mean to be hurtful or rude. I just didn't have a talent for tact. I went into the kitchen and reached out to touch Mum's shoulder. My stomach churned with guilt – she was shaking under my hand.

“Sorry, Mum.”

She turned to me, her face a twisted mix of emotions. She looked distraught; angry; resigned and despairing all at once.

“¡Yo no sé lo que usted desea de mí más!” The strange, furious words flew at me.

“Pardon?” I was worried. What was that gibberish? Had I tipped her over into a nervous breakdown? I turned to call Dad into the kitchen but she reached out and clutched my arms tightly.

“I don't know what you want from me any more,” she gulped. “I try my best to provide you with a secure and loving home. But it's never enough for you. No,” she said and held up her hand as I opened my mouth to deny her accusations. “I will not discuss this whilst we have visitors. Please take these through.” Uncannily calm now, she handed me the saucer of sliced lemon and a pepper mill. She turned me around towards the door, shooing me out as though I was a little girl getting under her feet in the kitchen.

I was unnerved.
What happens now?
I thought.
Am I supposed to carry on regardless after that?

Strange as it may seem the evening did pass in a relatively normal fashion. The food was, as always, excellent – although I couldn't taste it for the acid guilt in my mouth. The conversation seemed reasonably relaxed and Jeremy managed to keep on the right side of everyone for once. Had nobody else heard Mum's outburst? Maybe they thought that ignoring both that and my dreadful faux pas would mean that neither had really happened.

As they were leaving, Jen hugged me close once more and whispered, “Take it easy, Dez. Your mum really does love you, even if it sometimes feels otherwise. You're practically an adult now and she's scared of losing you. Call me if you need to talk.” She kissed my cheek and hurried out into the night after Jeremy and Dick.

“Celeste, why don't you go up to bed? Dez and I will finish the tidying up. Go on, go get some rest.”

Mum didn't seem to have the energy to protest. I watched her shoulders droop as she wearily climbed the stairs and I silently began to cry.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Dad pulled me into his embrace and guided me into the kitchen.

I sat at the table while he made some hot chocolate the old-fashioned way – with hot milk, real cocoa, sugar and cinnamon. He'd forgotten my chocolate embargo too, but it didn't seem to matter any more.

“You don't need to say anything,” he said, quietly. “I know there's something going on, but you don't have to tell me anything if you can't face it.”

Even in speech Dad didn't often use abbreviations and it sounded strange when he did. That was when we knew he was struggling with his own emotions. I felt awful for putting him in this situation. He always tried to avoid getting in the middle of a fight between Mum and me. His diplomatic training didn't equip him to deal with domestic war-zones but he'd always do his best to bring his girls back together again.

“You know we're here for you, no matter what. Don't you?” he continued. “We all get carried away sometimes. Seth is a dependable young man. I'm sure you'll work it out between you.”

Omigod! He thinks I'm pregnant!