“What tripe are you watching, Estella?” she asked as someone sat down next to me on the sofa. Noah. He smelled like whiskey and salty sea water. It sounded gross, but there was a weird appeal to it. Like chili and chocolate. Or chicken nuggets and ice-cream.
Perhaps he was a merman who’d come to shore to masquerade as Vee’s younger brother …
Turning my head ever so slightly to the side, I glanced at him. His penetrating eyes rested on my profile, and a flush crept across my cheeks.
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” I answered under my breath, shifting in place.
There was something about Noah that made me feel skittish. I wasn’t sure what age he was, but I guessed early to mid-twenties.
“Yes, well, turn it off. It’s past your bedtime.”
“It’s nine-thirty-five.”
“Don’t give me lip. Go to bed.”
“Let her stay, Vee,” Noah urged, and I bristled, again smelling the alcohol on his breath.
“I should put Sylvia to bed anyway,” I whispered and stood.
Noah finally quit looking at me and at the mention of his mother, cast his attention to her. He didn’t say a word, but Sylvia appeared distressed under his focused stare. She seemed almost … frightened of him. What the hell? I took hold of her wheelchair and began pushing it from the room when Vee knocked my hands away, a cigarette dangling out the side of her mouth.
“Leave her. I’ll do it later.”
“You’ll do it?” I questioned dubiously. Not since I’d lived here had I ever seen Vee put her mother to bed. It was always either me or Irene.
“Yes,” she spat. “Now fuck off. I’m sick of looking at your stupid ugly face.”
Noah’s eyebrows rose, like he was surprised by her venom. I didn’t know what Vee was like when he lived here, but nowadays she wasn’t a very nice person. My throat itched at her harsh tone, and I felt tears prick at my eyes. Was I ugly? No, I wasn’t. Vee just wanted to make me feel small because she was a poisonous bitch. I hated her.
I placed my hands back on the wheelchair, insistent. “Just let me do it, Vee.”
“Don’t push me, Estella, I mean it. You don’t want to see me snap.”
What I didn’t want was to leave poor Sylvia at the mercy of these two, but Vee had a look in her eyes like she wanted to fight, and I didn’t have it in me to go up against her. With one final look at Noah, who was watching me without expression, I turned and left the room.
***
The following morning, I got up with my alarm. I washed and dressed, then wandered down the hall. I opened the front door, picked up the newspaper and left it on the entry table for Vee like I always did. When I passed by the living room, Sylvia was there in her wheelchair, still sitting in the exact same spot where I’d left her and still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Outrage bubbled within me.
That horrible, evil witch!
Vee had absolutely no intention of putting Sylvia to bed. In fact, I’d bet my last penny she set out to purposely leave her mother there all night.
“I’ll kill her,” I said as I entered the living room and stared into Sylvia’s pained eyes. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you with her.”
Sylvia let out a huff of breath, her mouth set in a crooked line, conveying her exhaustion and pain. “I’m … okay,” she answered in a small voice, but I knew she was lying. She didn’t want to make a fuss, despite the fact that what Vee did was beyond reproach.
As I took hold of her wheelchair in order to bring her to her bedroom, the front door opened, and Irene stepped inside. I was almost on the verge of tears when she looked at me.
“Estella, what’s going on?” she asked, clearly wondering why Sylvia was up when normally she was the one to get her out of bed.
“Vee left her in the living room all night, Irene. I tried putting her to bed, but she forbade me from doing it, and then she just bloody well left her here.”
“Oh honey,” she said, hurrying over to check on Sylvia. “You go get yourself to school. I’ll see to poor Sylvie.”
I nodded, placing my hands on my hips, still angry. “Usually she just ignores her, but now she’s going out of her way to be cruel. If she does it again, I’ll report her to the health authority myself.”
“Will you now?” came a male voice, and I glanced up to see Noah coming down the stairs. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt; his feet were bare, his hair messy like he just stepped out of bed.
“Yes, I will,” I stood firm. “And you’re no better. How could you do something so awful to your own mother? She’ll be in agony for days after this, and her illness means she’s already in constant pain.”