Alexandra, Gone by Anna McPartlin

weren’t born in a barn.”
    Kurt entered the kitchen in time to witness Jane give the intercom the finger. “Whatever she wants, I’m not doing it,” he said.
    “Oh yes you are,” Jane said in a voice that her son recognized as his mother meaning business. The look that twisted her face suggested he was in big trouble.
    “What?” he asked, trying to work out what he’d been caught doing.
    “Skydiving, Kurt?”
    “I’m going to kill Elle!” He flopped onto the chair and pulled his hood over his head, covering his blond curls, and pressed his hands to his ears.
    “Skydiving. You know how I feel about skydiving. I said no. Every time you asked me I said no. No means no. It doesn’t mean maybe, it doesn’t mean I’ll think about it, and it sure as Shinola doesn’t mean go behind Mum’s back with Elle!”
    “Mum, please stop saying ‘sure as Shinola.’ It sounds retarded. The expression is ‘You don’t know shit from Shinola.’”
    “I don’t give a shit if it is, and that’s not the point.”
    “You said it the other day in front of Paul, and he thought you’d hit your head.”
    “Really, I don’t give a Shinola. You cannot get away with deliberately disobeying my rules.”
    “Ah Mum, back off. It was last April. It’s done, over, it was a laugh, it was safe, and nobody died.”
    “Well, you can forget about tonight.”
    “You can’t stop me from going out on New Year’s Eve!” he said with scorn.
    “No, probably not, but I can withhold funds.”
    Kurt pushed his hood back off his head. “You can’t do that. I’ve promised Irene.”
    “Tough.”
    “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me on New Year’s Eve!” he shouted before storming out of the kitchen.
    “Yeah, well, believe it, and you’d better storm back here in ten minutes flat to bring Rose’s eggs to her or you’re going to be poor for all of January!”
    “I hate you!” Kurt screamed at his mother.
    “I hate you too!” Jane screamed back while breaking two eggs into a bowl.
    Ten minutes later Kurt stormed in, picked up the plate of eggs, and stormed out without a word.
    Although Jane’s authority had been briefly undermined, her power was restored, she was fifty euros richer, and she had managed to avoid Rose, so her mood brightened considerably.
    Kurt made his way down the steps to his grandmother’s basement flat with the tray in one hand, fishing for the key with his other. Inside, the place smelled of air freshener, cigars, and wine, making his eyes water a little. In the small hall he nearly tripped over a stack of unsolicited mail that she kept piled up against the wall. It was stacked so high that the pile kept falling over. He had once asked her why she kept it, and she had told him that she was waiting for a member of the Green Party to call at her door so that she could throw the paper at him, douse him in alcohol, and then set him alight. She had been drunk at the time and so Kurt had hoped she was joking. He opened the door to the sitting room, and his grandmother sat up straight in her chair.
    Her face broke into a smile. Kurt’s relationship with his grandmother was far different from what he had with his mother. She idolized her grandson and saved all her grace for him. He laid the tray on the table that she kept near the big chair that dominated the room. The chair was referred to as the “throne” by her daughters, and she spent most of her time sitting in it. No one dared sit on Rose’s chair—not her daughters, not her friends, not visiting dignitaries, and not even her grandson, who was one of the very few people Rose actually liked. While poking at her eggs, she asked after Jane, and he lied and told her she felt fluish.
    “Well, then, she may stay away—I prefer you anyway,” she said, smiling and winking. She sampled her eggs and made a face to suggest that she was less than impressed. She always made that face. Usually it was for Jane’s benefit, but as it had become habit she