Page 6 of The Absence of You
The rest of my first day at Heathley Academy had been uneventful, but I’m worn out by the time I get back to Dee’s. I just feel like getting into bed and sleeping for a week, but I need to have a conversation with Dee about my mum and Heathley.
“Dee? I’m home!” I’m met with silence, so I head into the kitchen to look for her. There’s no sign of her, but there’s a handwritten note stuck to the coffee machine. I smile to myself, she’s already realised that is the first place I’d head. I switch on the machine while I read the note.
Dahlia,
Hope your first day went well. Sorry I can’t be there tonight.
I’ll be home late. Left your dinner warming in the oven.
D xx
That’s right, it’s Dee’s bridge night. It completely slipped my mind. Looks like any questions about my mum will have to wait until tomorrow. I have a coffee, quickly shower and change out of my stuffy uniform, into something more comfortable.
I grab my plate out of the oven and settle down at the kitchen table to tuck into the lasagne she left warming for me. It smells delicious, and my stomach growls in appreciation. She’s an amazing cook, and I tuck into the meal.
As first days go, it could have been worse. And unlike when I was at my old school, I get to come home and eat a warm dinner and concentrate on my homework. I don’t have to steel myself at the front door as I turn my key in the lock or hold my breath, unsure what will greet me when I walk into my home. Wondering whether I’ll be cleaning up vomit or having to hold back my mum’s hair while she’s sick into the toilet.
The last mouthful of lasagne sticks in my throat. I know alcohol addiction is a disease and what mum went through was horrible. I shouldn’t be sitting here counting the reasons I’m glad I don’t have to go back to our home. What kind of person does that make me?
I rinse my plate and go over to the window to close the kitchen blind. Across the driveway, I can see into Grayson’s kitchen. There are still no signs of anyone being home. They could be away on holiday, but surely Grayson would have to be back at the beginning of the term?
There was no sign of him in school today. It’s only been a day and maybe our schedules put us in different parts of the academy building at different times, but I can’t help but feel disappointed.
I hadn’t known there was anything missing in my life until the summer Grayson moved in next door, but he quickly became as much a part of my holidays in Sussex as Dee and the house and everything else that went with it. All of a sudden I had a friend who liked the same things I did, who could make me belly laugh like no one else, and who understood what it was like to be an only child.
We’d gone on to share hundreds of childhood experiences growing up. One summer, we invented a code so we could write each other secret notes and post them to each other under the fence. We made up silly dances, played cops and robbers and had someone to throw the ball to, instead of always being on our own. All the things you take for granted when you have a sibling.
But it was better than I imagined having a sibling would be, because we got on so well. We never fought and I can’t remember us ever exchanging petty words.
As we got older, we became more aware of each other’s family situations. Grayson’s seemingly perfect home life was anything but, and questions I had over my father’s abandonment were never far from my mind. I hadn’t realised at the time that our friendship was the only place we could find an escape from all of that.
When I had to stop visiting, I missed Dee terribly. But Grayson? I felt like a limb was missing when I finally accepted I wasn’t going back.
Chapter Six
DAHLIA
By the time lunchtime rolls around, I feel like my stomach is practically eating itself. Yesterday, I found a quiet spot out near the lake and ate my lunch there. I needed space by that point, so I read over the syllabus for the rest of my lessons and tried to familiarise myself with the layout and facilities from the map. But today it’s pouring with rain, so I follow the rest of the students across the small courtyard to the huge dining hall which is shared between the sixth form and university students.
It’s more formal than I was expecting, seating dozens of students at long tables. There’s a few different counters with food, from salads to paninis and full cooked meals. Until I have a job, I need to limit my spending, so I made myself a sandwich before school again and brought it with me. I refill my water bottle at the fountain and find a seat at the end of the first bench I come to. Unpacking my lunch, I try not to be jealous of the food everyone else is scoffing around me. It smells delicious and my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.
As I’m about to take a bite of my sandwich, a group of girls come and sit at the table a few seats away from me. Their trays are piled high with fresh salads and cold pastas and what looks like some sort of smoothie. Tray after tray clatters down loudly, and I glance up and shoot them a quick smile. They are wearing the same uniform as everyone else, but somehow they manage to make it look as though they’re on a night out. Their hair and make-up is flawless.
I eat my sandwich, trying to imagine it’s something other than boring cheese and mayo. I’m going to need to up my packed lunch game or find somewhere else to sit at lunch as I’m getting serious lunch envy.
One of the girls calls down the table,
“Heathley Academy food not good enough for you?” I still. Is she talking to me? I ignore her and keep eating. “Wow, rude much? I said, is Heathley Academy food not good enough for you?” Her voice is louder now, and I look up. A few of the students around us turn and stare at me, waiting for my reply.
“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were talking to me. The food looks lovely. I just brought a sandwich in today, as I wasn’t sure what would be available.” Clearly she’s trying to make a point, but fuck if I know what it is. It’s like she’s offended that I’ve not ordered food from the sixth form’s cafeteria. I carry on eating my sandwich, hoping that will put an end to the conversation.
“No one brings their own lunch. Why the hell would they when we have chefs preparing food each day?”
The group of girls snigger and another one pipes up. “Maybe she thought she’d have to pay for it, and she can’t afford it.” I feel my face colour. I get the impression she’d said that as a joke, but she’s spot on, and I can’t help but be embarrassed. “Oh my god, I’m right, aren’t I? You brought that food in to save money.” The ridicule in her words is clear.
The girls are openly laughing now, and my mouth turns dry as I try to chew the last mouthful of my sandwich and swallow it down so I can get out of here. I grab my rubbish off the table and shove it in my bag before making a quick exit. The sound of laughter follows me across the room.
As I rush out of the dining hall, I realise I’m not alone. Whoever it is follows behind me across the courtyard.
