Beautiful Monster by Kate McCaffrey Page B

‘Tell me about your day.’
    Tess tells her about her last assignment (an A for simultaneous equations) and The Collector, the novel she’s reading for extension English. Aunty Sue has read it too, and they discuss the characterisation of Frederick and his obsession with butterflies and Miranda. On the kitchen counter, the cake sits in a plastic container. She pushes it to one side as she starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge. It’s much easier to prepare food when she has a distraction.
    â€˜What are you doing, sweetie?’ Aunty Sue says, moving to a kitchen stool.
    â€˜I’ll get some dinner ready for them,’ Tess says. ‘Sometimes the clinic is so busy—they can be there for hours.’
    Aunty Sue nods. ‘You’re alone a lot, aren’t you.’
    â€˜No, not really,’ Tess says hastily. ‘I just know what the visits to Dr Simpson can be like.’ She starts slicing onions into wafer-thin pieces.
    â€˜You’re so considerate, Tess,’ Aunty Sue says, watching her carefully peel and evenly dice the carrots. ‘You’ve really shouldered a burden.’
    â€˜Not really.’ Tess shrugs dismissively, hating this focus on herself. ‘We all do our bit.’
    â€˜Shepherd’s pie? You using that textured protein stuff?’
    Tess nods, pouring boiling water onto the vegetarian mince.
    â€˜Do you remember when you showed Brodie how to make shepherd’s pie?’ Aunty Sue ventures softly.
    Tess pauses and thinks, a slow smile spreading across her face. ‘Yes, I do! I can’t believe you remember that! He was scared—he thought I was chopping up shepherds to eat them.’
    Aunty Sue nods, laughing too. ‘Remember, I was staying here while your Mum and Dad were in Queensland. I heard him scream—came running down the stairs, thinking the worst—but you had him in your lap, cuddling him. Calming him down.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ Tess said, ‘he was so freaked out.’ She puts the lid on the pot to let the sauce simmer and begins wiping the bench so she can peel the potatoes.
    â€˜You were always the one who knew him best, Tess,’ Aunty Sue says and Tess hears her voice thicken. ‘You must miss him so much. I do.’
    Tess blinks back tears. She loves talking about Brodie, but it hurts too. She looks at his cake and wipes the bench faster. ‘His birthday,’ she says simply.
    Aunty Sue comes round the bench and puts her hand over Tess’s to still the frantic movements. ‘I know.’ She turns Tess to face her. ‘You’re not alone, my darling. We’re all here. It’s okay to cry.’
    But Tess shakes her head. ‘I know. But I’m okay. Really.’
    The house is silent that night. Her mother is in bed, tranquillised. Dr Simpson has upped her medications in anticipation of the crash tomorrow. They all expect it.
    Tess sits with her dad in the dimly lit lounge room, watching reality TV. It strikes her as absurd. How can this be real? Strangers forced to live in a controlled environment under the watchful glare of TV cameras. Nothing real here—but when you think about it, what is reality? Who would have believed that this would be their reality?
    â€˜Tomorrow will be okay,’ her dad says.
    â€˜You think?’ Tess asks fearfully.
    â€˜I know,’ he says, gently rubbing her knee, ‘but we have to believe with each year, and with more therapy, we’re closer to happiness. If that’s ever possible.’ He shrugs.
    â€˜I’m going to bed, Dad—who knows when she’ll be awake.’
    She ignores the pain on his face as she leaves the room.
    In the bathroom Tess glares at her reflection. She is revolting. Those rolls of fat on her waist, under her arms. She grabs them and shakes them viciously. ‘You disgusting pig,’ she hisses. ‘The world would be so much better off without you. They’d be so