The End is Where We Begin Maria Goodin (best classic romance novels .TXT) 📖

into the sink with a clatter and glaring at me. “Because everything is always about you! How well you’re doing at school, how well you’re doing on the running track, whether you’re being stretched enough, whether you’re working hard enough…”

“Jesus, I’m sorry for even asking!”

“God, I had to literally be thrown off my A levels before anyone even noticed I was struggling! Whereas you, you somehow deserve constant attention, constant monitoring—”

“Do you think I like having Mum on my back all the time?! Do you think I like feeling as if I have to measure up to her expectations?!”

“Yes! I think you fucking love it! Because it makes you her golden boy, the one who gets all the attention! Just like you always have done!”

“That’s crap, Laura.”

“Really? Then how come you’re the only one asking if I’m okay? I mean, I can literally do anything, can’t I? I can lose my job, stay out night after night, hang out with anyone and nobody really gives a crap, do they? Where as you, you’re a different matter. Everything Jamie does has to be considered in the minutest detail to make sure he’s achieving his potential—”

“And do you think that’s fun for me?! Don’t you think that’s stressful, having to worry all the time about whether I’m worthy of all this money they’re spending on me, whether I’m going to do well enough—”

“I think that’s love!”

We glared at each other, eyes blazing.

“You know, I have memories of me and Mum when I was little,” said Laura, sadly, “spending time together, doing stuff, being happy. And Dad. I remember potting plants with him, building that little wall at the end of the garden, making that old rope swing. But now, he’s always out there in his workshop, and if he spends time with anyone, then it’s always you—”

“But it takes two, Laura. I’ve seen Dad try to make conversation with you and you give nothing back. And the only reason I’m the one hanging out with him is because I actually like learning some of the stuff he can teach me. If you want to learn how to, I don’t know, build a circuit board or whatever, then you can just as easily go hang out—”

“But why should I have to?! Why can’t people come to me, ask what I’m up to, what I want to talk about?!”

“Because we’ve all given up trying! You give nothing! You’re never here for a start, and when you are, you barely do more than grunt at people! It has to work both ways! You’re always just so… so mean! And angry! And no one ever knows what the hell about!”

“I’m angry at you! You’re the one I’m angry with! Because before you came along, I mattered! But I stopped mattering because clearly I was never going to fulfil Mum’s ambitions for her, so what the hell was the point in me?!”

I slammed my plate down on the kitchen table, refusing to be the scapegoat for all her problems.

“Well, I’m sorry for being born!” I yelled.

“Good! Because I wish you never had been!”

She strode straight past me and slammed the kitchen door behind her, leaving me with the echo of her hate-filled words.

I remember how Josh stood in the corner of the lounge, his face pressed against the wall, while Hellie crouched down nearby and tried to coax him out of his hiding spot.

“Come on, Joshie, come and give Mummy a hug.”

I hovered in the background, barely able to watch, but unsure whether to intervene.

Defeated, Hellie sighed, stood up and turned to me.

“What’s going on with him?” she frowned.

I stared at her, stunned by her question. Her fair hair had been bleached almost white by the Californian sun, and her skin has acquired a bronzed glow. The American in her accent had strengthened to the point that it now overpowered the blend of Scandinavian and cut-glass English. Everything about her testified to the length of time she’d been away, and yet her ice-blue eyes searched my face, waiting for an answer as to why her son was rejecting her.

“What do you mean, what’s going on with him?” I asked, incredulous. “He’s confused. You’ve been gone three months. He needs time—”

“Time for what? I’m his mum.”

I held my palms out, dumbfounded by her stupidity.

“Are you turning him against me?” Hellie asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

“What the…? You’re kidding me, right? You’ve been gone more than you’ve been here for the last year, and you’re blaming me for the fact he’s acting like this!”

“I don’t know what you tell him about me when I’m not here,” she stated, calmly.

“I don’t tell him anything! What the hell would I tell him? I don’t know what you’re up to any more than he does!”

“I just don’t think this behaviour’s normal,” she said, gesturing to the tiny figure in the corner.

“Of course it’s not normal! But it’s not normal that his mother’s never here!”

“I was raised by nannies all over the world. I went to boarding schools from the age of seven. I was sent to board in the UK when I was twelve. But do I treat my parents like this?”

“Yes! Your parents email me to find out what’s happening with you because they haven’t heard from you in months!”

“Look,” said Hellie, holding her palms up to me in a futile gesture that was somehow intended to calm the situation, “I do appreciate what you’re doing here—”

“You appreciate it?!”

“I do. I know at the moment my career is taking me away a lot—”

“Your career?” I laughed, bitterly. “Is that what you call it?”

“—but maybe if he had a bit more structure, a bit less chaos,” she said, gesturing around her. “Children need order.”

I followed her eyes around the lounge, taking in the mess. My sister – on a break from the most recent boyfriend – had temporarily moved back into her room, and Michael – when he wasn’t spending the night with God knows who doing God knows what –