I stood in front of the large, antique mirror that adorned my small apartment. My hair was a mess, having been argued with and combed over and over again. My pale skin blazing against my thin, t-shirt. I, at least, was trying to decide whether or not to wear a dress to the party but I was stuck on a corset.
The room was small, full of furniture. I glanced at the time on the digital clock. I heard a knock on the door, my stomach sinking.
Yet again, my dad had gotten drunk and yelled at my mom, spilling our argument, into the streets before we got to our home. My mom sat on her chair, crying, quiet. I moved towards her, letting my father slam the door to our apartment, leaning on it, letting the tears roll down my cheeks.
"Mom, what kind of corset do you think I should wear?" I asked her, hoping she could steer my mind away from the stress of the day.
She glanced at me, subtlety smiling. "Oh, that one. It brings out your eyes. Where are you going?" she asks me, her eyes bloodshot. "It's earlier than your usual."
I sat down opposite of her, running my finger over my pale, thin legs. "It's not really a date...Just a meeting." I say, putting up a smile.
"A meeting with your boss?" She asks me, tilting her head, curious.
"Not exactly." I say, then the conversation ended. We sat in silence, me thinking of what to wear and her in the corner, silent. A large part of me hated my job. I worked in a clothing shop. It wasn't a very good job. The pay was low and I was barely surviving. I'm not sure if I'd be employed very long if I didn't find a permanent position soon.
I sat silently for a moment, wishing not to go to the party but wanting to feel special. I peered at the corset and sighed, then my heart skipped as my phone rang.
"Hey, Mrs. Rose. Yes, I'm coming here now." I mutter, starting to zaper out of my seat.
"Wait, your dress can't be that bad. We'll try it on again." She says, with a frown.
If she hadn't been my boss, I probably would've agreed. Except she wouldn't. I walked to her closet, arguing with myself over the choice when I heard her scream, "I'LL NEVER TRUST YOU AGAIN! YOU'RE A LIAR!"
I glanced at the door, my hand patting my chest, my heart out on display. "I wouldn't change a thing. You look great." I tell her.
"How would you know?!" She says. "You never pay attention to me!"
It was once a mistake to tell her that I wasn't my father. But I'd come too far to give up now, I couldn't let her get the upper hand.
"When I'm serious, I pay attention to you, like when I'm talking to you," I say. "Call me when you get home, okay?"
I held the phone to my ear as my heart banged against my ribs. I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this job would be over soon, that I would apply for a better one and that it would eventually pay off. I never went home for Christmas and this year was no different. I had no choice.
All I needed was a week pay check to be on my own.
I stood, grabbing the corset I was to wear and gave it a sniff, trying to decide between the floral and the ruffles. I chose the ruffles. For now. I zipped up my dress, glancing at the clock then grabbed my bag, heading to the door. Then the stress of the day hit my heart. Where was I going to meet him?
My mother wanted me to wear heels and my mother wanted me to wear flats.
I sighed and opened the front door.