Sixteen-year-old Lucy’s world and family are destroyed when her mother moves her out of their home and into an apartment on her own. She runs into trouble and is rescued by a charismatic, but married, businessman who becomes her lifeline and ultimately her lover.
Mom turned the key in a door at the top of the stairs and pushed it open. I gasped.
“What happened? Are we moving?” The room contained all of the living room furniture from our house across town.
“You’re moving, Lucy. This is your very own apartment!” She sounded like the host of a prize-giveaway show as she squeezed my elbow and guided me over the threshold.
“What? What’s going on?” I looked from her to my dad, who had followed us in and pushed the door closed behind him. He cast a forlorn glance around the room. Mom drew her sunglasses down her nose, and I saw her eyes for the first time this afternoon. They were puffy, like she’d been crying again. She angled her head and looked at me.
“We talked about this, Lucy. Remember?”
It took me a few seconds to recall a conversation at brunch a month or so ago when she had asked me how I would feel about having my own place—did I think I could manage it. I’d said sure, thinking she was talking about when I went to college.
“Someday, but not now!”
She blinked. “Why not now? You’re so capable, and you can drive now—and I’m giving you my Civic. And we’ve brought all of your things here and the furniture you’ve grown up with.” My mouth hung open as she spread her arms to showcase the room. “Even your plants. I chose this apartment specifically for its nice, southern exposure.”
Afternoon light streaked through the smudged, glass windowpanes and fell on the faded, beige walls and carpet. I sniffed the air. It reeked of the former inhabitants—the foods they’d cooked, the cigarettes they’d smoked, the pets they’d owned.
“This place is gross,” I said, from the back of my throat.
“Come see the bedroom.” She took my hand and led me across the room, into a small hallway that led to one bedroom and a bathroom.
“Voila!” She said, as if magic had transported my bedroom to this place. I gaped in horror at my bed, desk, and chest of drawers. Everything that I had left just two days ago was now here in this dingy place, even my books, wall posters, and old dolls, who looked back at me with startled eyes.
Janet Wheaton 