Nina enjoyed avoiding her mother. Leaving early, avoiding her schedules which were set in stone. Had she always been this boring Nina wondered? The moments they passed each other, in the kitchen, at the bottom of the stairs, her mother’s face looked grim. Immovable. Sometimes Nina wished she wasn’t there, that it was just her and her dad. She had been close to her mother once, not that long ago. But Nina knew eventually she had to face the reckoning.

     It was Sunday morning, Nina thought Caro had gone to church. She was a Hillsong fundie. Nina had even attended church with her a couple of times. She’d watched her mother’s face change, it almost melted, tears would stream down her face. She looked both happy and sad at the same time. Her mouth moved, seemingly in anguish. A bit like the faces on Nina’s wall, except with perfectly groomed hair. This Sunday Caro was waiting to ambush Nina in the kitchen. She sat nursing a cup of Earl Grey, Nina could smell its perfume. A half smile on her lips which wore weekend lipstick. Weekend lipstick was more subtle than weekday shiny red. A glossy shade of nude. She indicated a chair with the incline of her head. There was no escape today. Nina sat down in one of those fucking French chairs, scraping it across the wooden floor. Caro flinched.

    “What’s with the wall, Nina?” Her mother dipped her chin and looked upwards at her, like Princess Diana. Nina wondered if that’s who she modelled herself on. 

     Nina sighed. Looked down at her bare feet. “It’s art, Mum. Just art.”

     Caro drew a circle on the table, as if picking up dust, where there was none. “Art? What art? Edvard Munch? The latest Banksy? What’s wrong with Monet?”

     Nina burst out laughing. She hated Monet. “Well, it’s not Banksy. Kaitlyn did it.”

     “Kaitlyn? Who the hell is Kaitlyn? And how the hell am I supposed to paint over that monstrosity. It’s practically blackboard paint.”

     “You don’t get it, Mum. You don’t paint over it. It’s a piece of me in this huge show home I don’t feel part of.”

     “I always consulted you. Remember that sugar pink and white tulle theme.” 

     “I was trying to fit in at school. What about when I dug my own coffin in the sand at the beach? You only remember the things that fit in with your idea of me, as your daughter. But I’m me. Nina. You look at me, but you never fucking see me.”

     That half smile again. Nina knew her mother was running a mantra through her head. It went, it’s only a phase, it’s only a phase. Well it wasn’t. She was growing into who she needed to be. No more tulle and pastels. Nina could feel herself edge towards a darkness that was both exciting and hers. Perhaps it was exciting because it was hers. She stood up, knocked one of those see-through chairs to the floor. Her mother couldn’t see through her anymore. Nina’s parting shot, a knife that would hurt.

     “It’s you. There’s something wrong with you.” In measured tones, she didn’t shout. 

     Nina walked away, didn’t run this time. She imagined her mother clutching herself, leaning over her perfect kitchen table. Not a hair out of place but her face as if it had pushed itself out of place. Nina’s pace quickened as she felt a small stab of guilt, walked to the corner of our road and the main road, dragged her phone from her jeans pocket and texted the two only people who understood. 

     No reply from Kaitlyn. Gus agreed to meet her at his house. He was finishing up a job for his dad. Kaitlyn had been in touch with him. She was minding the brats. Nina had never been to either of their homes. Gus texted her the address, it was a long way from Nina’s home. It literally was on the other side of the tracks. Nina crossed a level crossing and headed towards a part of town she hadn’t known existed until now. The brickwork of the houses became a muddy brown. It was a rural scape in monotone. No front gardens, no flowers. The smell of  overcooked vegetables wafted. 

     Nina hadn’t eaten. Her body felt good. Thin and spare. She was growing into herself at last, softness hardening. She could feel her senses vibrate and hum. Gus stood at the door, smiling down at her. His hair was wet, his feet bare. She could smell cheap shampoo.

     “Welcome to Chez Gus, wipe your feet on your way out.”

     Gus was always joking but today his eyes looked nervous, sad even. Nina sat down on a rickety dining chair that was not remotely French. Gus sat opposite. “Mum’s found the wall.” When she looked up, into his eyes, she realised that her mum finding a bit of DIY decorating was not a real problem.

     “I wish my dad would care about anything I do.” Gus’s face screwed up, his eyes were the most haunted Nina had ever seen.

     “Christ, I’m sorry. I must sound self-obsessed to you.” Nina boldly reached out to grab Gus’s hand, she squeezed it. Gus fiddled with a friendship bracelet on his wrist. It was faded and fraying. Her body pulsed selfishly. A small voice inside her, I want him, not really knowing what this meant. Nina stood, went over to Gus and held his head against her chest, like she’d seen her mother do to her father when he was exhausted from work. Gus must be able to hear her heart thumping against her ribcage. “What’s wrong?”

     “I’m so lonely here. Dad’s never home when he’s seeing someone. I have to find work. I’m overwhelmed.” 

     Nina’s insides lurched with empathy, but also longing. How they got from there to the kind of kissing that stops you breathing she wasn’t sure. But then Gus picked her up, and in one move, carried her to the sofa. She’d worn a skirt that day, a rare event, it made what came next easier. 

     Afterwards they re-arranged their clothes and Gus fished out a squashed cigarette packet from his jeans. He lit two, passing one to Nina, forgetting that she didn’t smoke. She thought it was the most romantic gesture she’d ever experienced. 

     Only it wasn’t. When Gus spoke, it wasn’t of what they had just done but how to keep it quiet. “Please don’t tell, Kaitlyn. She won’t like it. She’s my oldest friend.”

     Nina nodded. Put her cigarette out and made excuses to go. Did Gus not know that this was her first time. It was supposed to be special. Nina, in the days of feeling close to her mother, had asked her about her own first time. Her mother had visibly paled, she’d talked about a boy in the town she’d lived in but when Nina had asked his name, her mother had hesitated. “I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.” Even then Nina had known that you would always remember your first, even if it was a bad experience. That was probably the beginning of their separation. Nina knew her mother had lied to her. She felt unloved and used now, after Gus, but it was possible that her mother’s first sexual encounter had been much worse. 

     How was Nina going to face Gus, or Kaitlyn now? They were her only friends. She couldn’t lose them. She’d keep Gus’s secret for him, even though it hurt her. 

The next time the three friends met was a week or so later. Gus had found a job packing bags at the local mini-mart, Kaitlyn had started a part time art course. Her mother had managed to save some money from taking other people’s children in. Their days were full. Whereas Nina’s were empty. Hanging around her colossal home was lonely, but somehow it was even more lonely when her mother was home. Caro tried but Nina didn’t want to know. Her father was away more which meant Ellen came round some evenings. She liked Ellen, she was fun. She was also honest and upfront. The opposite of her mother.

     In the end Nina started going back to school. The experience with Gus hadn’t been ideal, she still thought of him. Her body remembered him where he’d touched her. But she had changed, she felt more confident. Clothes hung differently on her. Her head held high, she felt less of a child, more a woman. The girl’s at school still treated her with disdain, but the eyes of their boyfriends who met them after school would linger on Nina, where before they had laughed, or whispered cruelly. Nina felt a power she’d never felt before. Her walk changed, her body had become more fluid. In the mornings she dressed more carefully. She wore her skirt a little higher, unbuttoned another button on her shirt. 

     But Caro noticed. She noticed the change in her daughter, and it frightened her.