Suzy K Quinn - Not My Daughter

‘ You go home. Go. I’ll catch a cab later. I’m gonna hang out and wait for Michael and the band to leave.’

‘I can’t let you—’

‘Dee, he’s in this venue somewhere. I might meet him. Michael Reyji Ray .’

‘Never meet your idols, Lorna,’ said Dee. ‘I bet he’s even shorter than he looks on stage.’

‘I have to try.’

Dee shakes her head. ‘Come on, Lorna. I can’t stay out late. I’m teaching kids tomorrow.’

‘Then go.’

‘As if I’d leave my little sister. Come on. We need to get back.’

I pulled my trump card then. ‘Dee, meeting Michael Reyji Ray was on my list. The one I wrote in the hospital. Things to do before I die …’

Dee’s face faltered. ‘I’m responsible for a whole class of middle graders. I need to sleep—’

‘I’m telling you to go. I’ll be fine. There are no strangers here, right? Only friends I haven’t met. Come on, Dee, I’m sixteen. You moved out of home at sixteen.’

Dee sighed. ‘Okay, fine. Fine. But if you’re not back by 1 a.m. I’m calling the police.’

‘You’re the best big sister in the world. Always have been.’

‘Okay, okay. Stay out of trouble, little sis, and look after yourself. Take care of your body. Remember how lucky you are to be alive. You’re still crazy thin.’ She managed a tired smile. ‘Even so, you look a darn sight better than I did at your age.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the most beautiful person I ever met.’ And I meant it. My big sister always looked like an angel to me with her cuddly, curvy body and warm, smiling eyes.

Dee laughed. ‘And you’re my best little cheerleader. Enjoy yourself. Okay? You deserve a good time after everything you’ve been through.’

I know Dee still feels guilty about that night. If she’d have stayed with me, Michael might never have happened.

But it’s not her fault.

Men like Michael are predators. They’re experts at luring you in.

Liberty’s still not home and I’m starting to panic, pacing back around the kitchen.

The griddle sizzles as Nick lays large, flat mushrooms on hot oil. He watches the pan intensely, glancing between the smoking mushroom and a little black kitchen timer.

‘Great job, Nick,’ I say, trying not to sound as distracted as I feel. ‘Smells delicious. Liberty is going to love this. A plant-based feast.’

‘Yeah, it looks good, doesn’t it?’ says Nick, voice cheerful. ‘I’m going to try Darcy on one of these mushrooms tonight. It would be great if she ate a vegetable. This yellow food phase is just going on and on.’

‘I’m not sure it’s a phrase,’ I say. ‘I think it’s just how Darcy is. You told the nursery that Bella’s mother is taking her home tonight, right?’

Nick snorts, still watching the mushroom, spatula poised. ‘I was a parent before you came along, Lorna Miller. Don’t worry. I told them.’

‘I’m giving Liberty one last call,’ I decide, taking out my cell phone. Mobile phone, Lorna, mobile, not a cell phone. You’ve lived in this country for seventeen years …

‘Lorna.’ Nick shakes his head. ‘She won’t answer. How many times have you called today?’

My flip-flops shuffle on the slate floor. ‘Three?’

This is a lie.

‘Hold up.’ Nick points at the window. ‘I think this is her.’

Skywalker is going mad, jumping around at the gate.

‘Oh, thank God.’ I watch our front gate swing open on its pivot, and my tall, slender daughter appears, army backpack hanging from one shoulder. Her skin is lightly tanned from the sun. Different to my pale skin. I’ve always been pale. The palest kid in California.

Liberty’s wearing a messed-up version of her school uniform, her tie the skinny way around, skirt rolled up and something else: an oversized denim jacket with band patches sewn on it. I’ve never seen the jacket before, and … what happened to her hair ?

I feel Nick’s arm around my shoulder. ‘Whoa. Very rock and roll. It suits her.’

‘What has she done to herself?’ My voice is shaking.

Liberty’s long, chestnut brown hair has been cut to her chin, flicked over in a deep side parting and streaked an uneven blonde, some parts bright white, others orangey.

I put my hand to my own hair. It was short like that once too.

When Liberty comes through the front door, I accost her in the hall beside Nick’s ‘Steps, Achieve, Goal’ pinboard.

‘Liberty, what happened to your hair?’

Skywalker barks and barks.

Liberty raises a hand to Skywalker. He sits instantly, tail still and obedient. ‘I cut it. And bleached it.’

‘Where?’

‘At school.’

I watch as Liberty hangs her army backpack and the unidentified denim jacket.

‘Where did you get that jacket?’

‘A friend.’ Liberty clicks her fingers and Skywalker trots to her side.

‘Who? Male or female?’

‘Does it matter? Gender is fluid these days. Get with the times, Mama.’

‘What happened to your duffel coat—’

‘Abi has it. We swapped.’

‘For a jacket covered in music badges?’

‘What’s the problem with a couple of band badges? You’ve got tattoos all over your arms.’

‘Liberty, honey. Your hair. Your beautiful hair.’

‘It’s my hair. It’s nothing to do with you.’

‘Hey Libs.’ Nick pops his head out the front door. ‘Your mother just worries about you, that’s all. We want you to be safe.’

‘ You don’t have to worry about me, Nick,’ says Liberty. ‘Because you are not my legal guardian.’

‘I’m responsible for you, just like your mother is,’ says Nick.

‘Not legally,’ says Liberty. ‘You and my mother aren’t married yet. Remember?’ Then she mutters under her breath. ‘ Steroids cause memory loss .’

Unfortunately, Nick hears. He’s mild-mannered about absolutely everything. Except steroid accusations.

‘I do not take steroids,’ he snaps. ‘These muscles are born of hard graft.’

‘There are helplines you can call.’ Liberty tries to dart upstairs, shoulders shaking with laughter.

I grab her arm. ‘Hold it right there. Number one, apologize to Nick. Number two, we have to figure out how to fix your hair.’

‘Fix it?’ Liberty gawps at me. ‘There’s nothing to fix. And I was just teasing, Nick. That’s all.’

Nick goes back into the kitchen and starts cutting tofu, head bent over.

‘Apologize to Nick. He’s trying his best. He drove to Long Bridge for your vegan stuff today.’

‘You’re always on his side.’

‘I’m on both your sides.’

Liberty flips around her new short hair and kneels to stroke Skywalker’s long, salt and pepper body. ‘Thank you, Nick,’ she says in a tired voice. ‘Sorry, Nick.’

‘I’m trying my best, Libs,’ says Nick. ‘All I want to do is be a good … sort-of dad.’

‘Tell us about the mock exams,’ I say. ‘How’d you do?’

Liberty ignores me and pours vegetarian dog biscuits into Skywalker’s bowl. Skywalker sits obediently, as Liberty has trained him to do. Only when she gives him the command does he start eating.

Nick stumbles into the awkward silence. ‘Hey, you’ve done a great job with that dog, Libs. Look at how well trained he is. Just brilliant.’

‘What else do I have to do?’ says Liberty. ‘Mum never lets me out.’

‘Yeah, we were talking about that,’ says Nick. ‘I think it’s time your mother let you out more.’

Liberty looks up then, managing a smile. ‘Really? You told her that? Did she punch you?’

Nick laughs. ‘Just a couple of broken fingers.’