Claire
This sucked donkey’s dick.
I was over it. I felt like a hooker prowling the streets begging someone to give me a job. I understood why Vickie let me go, even if I thought she was being a short-sighted bitch, but I never thought she was vindictive. Turns out, I didn’t know her at all. She’d completely blacklisted me in the area. It didn’t seem to matter that the customers loved me or that I was damn good at my job, the rumours spreading through the hairdressing world, a world that was full of women who were still trapped in the bitchy fourteen-year-old versions of themselves, was that I was a flake.
Isaac was being great; he’d covered my share of last week’s rent, but I didn’t want to rely on him to keep doing it. I was going to pull my weight if it killed me. Instead of whining about it, every minute I spent not job hunting, I was cleaning or cooking or mending something for the boys. If I wasn’t contributing financially, then I was determined to do it another way.
“This is delicious,” Jason mumbled around a mouthful of roast pork.
“Potatoes are awesome,” Alfred added not to be outdone.
It was another Sunday night, and we were doing the roast. We hadn’t had many since I’d been here, but I’d been feeling flat all day and being in the kitchen seemed to help. So tonight, I’d served up roast pork with crispy crackling, all the roasted veggies, and cooling on the counter in the kitchen was the world’s biggest apple crumble. The way these boys ate, I couldn’t do anything in normal-sized batches or twenty minutes after the table was cleared, they’d be rifling through the now organised pantry looking for more food.
“Thanks.”
“No, thank you, Claire. This is awesome. Better than Mum’s,” Isaac confirmed, nudging me with his elbow.
“I’ll tell her you said that.”
“No! Don’t. She won’t cook for me again.”
We both knew he was full of shit, but it was fun to play along. “Well, maybe instead of baby boy getting all his favourites, we might be able to have some of mine instead.”
“Bitch.”
“Actually, speaking of Mum…” The clattering of forks against plates was almost comical. While Warner wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, Jason took a swig of his water. It didn’t take a mind reader to know the scenarios dancing through their minds right now. They were all frozen waiting for me to tell them Mum was coming to visit. “I’m actually thinking of going home for a bit.”
“Define ‘a bit’,” Alfred invited.
“Home? Why?” Isaac was stunned.
“Is this because of money?” Warner asked.
“I need to reset. I’m going crazy here. Nothing’s happening. I can’t get a job. I have nothing. I think going home is for the best,” I offered weakly.
The truth was, the last place I wanted to go back to was the small town we’d grown up in. I liked not having everyone up in my business. I loved hanging out on the beach. I loved the fact my whole world didn’t smell like cows. But I had decisions to make. Ones where the answer wasn’t forthcoming. Maybe some time at home would help me find the clarity I was looking for.
“Bullshit!” Isaac snapped. “You’re running home to mummy because you’re scared.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, Claire. You are.”
“What the hell would you know?”
I could feel the tears filling my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I wasn’t going to. The last thing I wanted to do was to give Isaac the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten to me.
“I know you better than you think. You’re going home and hoping Dad will make all your decisions for you so you don’t have to. You’re being a chicken shit. Besides, what’s lover boy say about this?”
Fucking Isaac. I wanted to junk punch that smug smirk right off his face. Bringing Seth into this was a low blow. Effective, but still a low blow.
Seth didn’t get a say anyway, despite what Isaac happened to think. After he kissed the life out of me over a week ago now, he bought me home, walked me to the door, and promised to call. In typical boy fashion, I was still waiting for that call. We’d exchanged a handful of texts and even suggested meeting up to take on the dunes again, Seth suggesting a rematch where he could beat me, boy was dreaming, but so far, we had no concrete plans. Normally, I would’ve fussed and worried about it except I had bigger problems. Like paying my car rego next month and filling it with fuel.
Two days and a phone call home later and Mum had deposited some cash in my account for fuel, and I was headed back. I never thought I’d be going back, not under these conditions anyway. Spending six hours alone in the car with only my thoughts wasn’t great for my mental health either. After enduring the first couple of years of my apprenticeship, most of it completed in the middle of bumfuck nowhere where I’d grown up, to fall short so close to the end was frustrating, but maybe I just wasn’t meant to be a hairdresser. The long hours on my feet weren’t going to be missed. But the question still remained, if I wasn’t doing that, then what the hell was I going to do?
I was twenty minutes from home, tired, hungry, and ready to get out of the car and stretch my aching back when my phone rang. Punching the button on the steering wheel, I didn’t even look to see who was calling.
“Hello?”
