face, awake. Whatever she says, I must not react with my Smile Blocker.
“So?” Mum says forcefully into my silence. “What do you think?”
Her brows are softe r now; I have to observe carefully to see them jump up, the challenge. New faces are harder work. She is actually pouting at me but I don’t think she means to, it’s just how that type of lips sit.
“Sexy.”
“You don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She rolls her fat-lashed eyes to the ceiling. We are two Updates face to face. Mine is the real surprise.
“It was just a bit of a boost. Look, your father left me. That hurt. Everything revolves around this now,” she gestures at the bump. “I needed some fun.”
“You look fun.”
“I don’t know why I feel the need to justify my face to you.”
Mum pushes off the wall and lurches towards me, seizing the pile of clothes. They rest across the bump, a shelf wide enough for the lot. “It’s not like you were going to react with a lovely supportive smile, is it? That would have been too much to ask.”
My features freeze. Has she guessed? Something registers on Mum’s face. We watch each other like predators and she sniffs the air.
“You smell of Health Centre.”
“I’m ill, I’ve just been.”
Mum’s aura switches from attack to defence; caught in the act of negligent single-parenting. “What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s a cold.”
“Why didn’t you get the car to take you? Or I’d have driven you. I’m taking this lot to the Recycling Point anyway.”
“What about the baby?”
“Just don’t sneeze on the bump, I’ll be fine. Do you need to go upstairs for a lie down?”
I reach out to carry the clothes for her .
“I can manage,” she says. “You should rest. You got anything else for the pile?”
“I’m not sorting clothes now.”
“There’s a parcel for you from Radiance. If you urgently need to recycle, I can take this lot tomorrow instead?”
“Up to you.”
I grab my Radiance parcel from the bottom of the stairs and run up to my bedroom. I must be getting some control over this face at last!
T en minutes later there’s a hesitant tapping on my bedroom door. It’s the pauses in between that particularly wind me up. She’s going to come in, so why pretend otherwise? I keep my head down, as her massive bulk eases into my field of vision.
“Only me...”
She is using the doorframe as support, her substantial bosom heaving. I wait for the usual complaint to arrive.
“Stairs getting steeper?” I prompt, to get it over with.
“You said it . And how are your nasal passages holding up?”
“That’s gross, Mum.”
Mum tries a connecting smile. I hold my face in neutral.
“Shouldn’t you be resting downstairs?” I suggest.
“I’ve been sat down all day! I’m supposed to be walking around. Doctor says it can get things moving.”
We both look at the bump. My first thought: is there any mum left behind that monstrosity? Kid’s going to come out starting-s chool size. Mum wraps both arms around the fatherless kid.
“My, what a spacious room you have.” Mum says
“Not funny.”
I’m not get ting into that argument again, the changing dimensions of my room- it’s not why she’s followed me upstairs.
“You look different.” Mum says.
Here we go: I make brazen eye contact. E ncouraged, she moves towards me; her eyes are a warm olive, part of the package to make men feel at ease. She raises a hand, it extends towards
“So?” Mum says forcefully into my silence. “What do you think?”
Her brows are softe r now; I have to observe carefully to see them jump up, the challenge. New faces are harder work. She is actually pouting at me but I don’t think she means to, it’s just how that type of lips sit.
“Sexy.”
“You don’t like it.”
“I didn’t say that.”
She rolls her fat-lashed eyes to the ceiling. We are two Updates face to face. Mine is the real surprise.
“It was just a bit of a boost. Look, your father left me. That hurt. Everything revolves around this now,” she gestures at the bump. “I needed some fun.”
“You look fun.”
“I don’t know why I feel the need to justify my face to you.”
Mum pushes off the wall and lurches towards me, seizing the pile of clothes. They rest across the bump, a shelf wide enough for the lot. “It’s not like you were going to react with a lovely supportive smile, is it? That would have been too much to ask.”
My features freeze. Has she guessed? Something registers on Mum’s face. We watch each other like predators and she sniffs the air.
“You smell of Health Centre.”
“I’m ill, I’ve just been.”
Mum’s aura switches from attack to defence; caught in the act of negligent single-parenting. “What’s wrong with you?”
“It’s a cold.”
“Why didn’t you get the car to take you? Or I’d have driven you. I’m taking this lot to the Recycling Point anyway.”
“What about the baby?”
“Just don’t sneeze on the bump, I’ll be fine. Do you need to go upstairs for a lie down?”
I reach out to carry the clothes for her .
“I can manage,” she says. “You should rest. You got anything else for the pile?”
“I’m not sorting clothes now.”
“There’s a parcel for you from Radiance. If you urgently need to recycle, I can take this lot tomorrow instead?”
“Up to you.”
I grab my Radiance parcel from the bottom of the stairs and run up to my bedroom. I must be getting some control over this face at last!
T en minutes later there’s a hesitant tapping on my bedroom door. It’s the pauses in between that particularly wind me up. She’s going to come in, so why pretend otherwise? I keep my head down, as her massive bulk eases into my field of vision.
“Only me...”
She is using the doorframe as support, her substantial bosom heaving. I wait for the usual complaint to arrive.
“Stairs getting steeper?” I prompt, to get it over with.
“You said it . And how are your nasal passages holding up?”
“That’s gross, Mum.”
Mum tries a connecting smile. I hold my face in neutral.
“Shouldn’t you be resting downstairs?” I suggest.
“I’ve been sat down all day! I’m supposed to be walking around. Doctor says it can get things moving.”
We both look at the bump. My first thought: is there any mum left behind that monstrosity? Kid’s going to come out starting-s chool size. Mum wraps both arms around the fatherless kid.
“My, what a spacious room you have.” Mum says
“Not funny.”
I’m not get ting into that argument again, the changing dimensions of my room- it’s not why she’s followed me upstairs.
“You look different.” Mum says.
Here we go: I make brazen eye contact. E ncouraged, she moves towards me; her eyes are a warm olive, part of the package to make men feel at ease. She raises a hand, it extends towards
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