Settling herself down in the living room with her mug clasped between her hands, she gazed out of the window, watching people wander by. Taking a sip, sometimes two, every time she saw someone. Her very own boring, solo drinking game. She was starting to panic – if Aidan took any longer, she might not get to the library in time to see the old man.
And that’s when it happened – as if lifted straight from the pages of a novel. Through the window, she spotted the guy from the train. Without his beanie, this time. Was her mind playing tricks on her? No, she told herself, it was him. Definitely him.
She slowly moved closer to the glass, her breath misting against it, and watched as he walked from one corner of her vision to the other. Just at that moment, Aidan’s car pulled up on the opposite side of the road, his usual parking spot. Her heart rate slowed. Her brother, silhouetted through the glass, leaned over to the passenger seat, probably putting his driving glasses away – he hated to admit he needed driving glasses – before leaning his head back and staring up at the sky. Aleisha waited, expecting him to step out of his car, but he sat there for minutes.
Time stood still as she watched, waiting for Aidan to move. She felt like an intruder, spying on him. What was going on?
And then came a whisper behind her.
‘What are we looking at?’
It was Leilah, dressed already in jeans and a T-shirt – a good day, maybe. Aleisha tried to wipe the surprise from her face.
‘You’re up!’
‘Of course I’m up.’
Aleisha frowned.
‘What are you looking at?’ Leilah continued.
‘Nothing.’ Aleisha turned around, trying to hide Aidan’s car from Leilah’s view, wanting to give Aidan a moment to himself. ‘Just spotted some guy I saw on the train once,’ she said, to distract her.
‘Gripping.’ Leilah smiled. Her eyes looked less tired this morning.
Aleisha stole one last look at Aidan. He knew she was waiting for him; she’d texted him to say she needed to go to work. Why wasn’t he coming inside yet? What was he doing? Inside his car, her brother brought both his hands to his face, his shoulders dropping; he stayed like that for a few moments – and then looked towards the house, towards her.
‘Mum?’ Aleisha jolted into action, but when she turned round Leilah was gone.
‘I’m up here!’ Leilah called from her room. Aleisha got up from the sofa quickly, pretending she hadn’t been watching at all, and stomped upstairs. Outside Leilah’s bedroom, she could hear the tinny voices of the radio.
She walked in; Leilah unplugged one headphone.
‘Come in, darling,’ Leilah said, her voice was light. ‘Come and sit with me.’ Aleisha tried to suppress her jittery panic about the library, tried to focus on her mother in this moment. Right now, she wanted a hug. She wanted Leilah to tell her that it would all be okay.
Leilah was sitting upright at the foot of the bed – Aleisha was so used to seeing her curled up – her legs were dangling over the edge, her toes not quite touching the floor. The radio sat beside her, headphones connected to Leilah as though injecting her with life.
She tapped the bed on the other side of the radio. Aleisha sat down as instructed. Leilah unplugged the headphones. She curled them around and around, before placing them neatly next to the radio. Aleisha noticed the lines. Her mother’s feet and the floor. Her mother’s back and the bed. The radio, perpendicular; the headphones too. She felt as though invisible boundaries were being drawn through her, over her, around her: she recognized her own lines – her back （curved slightly, slouching） and the bed, her own legs and the floor. Her feet （toes pointing down rather than straightforward like her mother’s）。 Her mum was smiling at her, but Aleisha didn’t know how to act right now; all she could think about was how she was ruining the pattern. She didn’t belong.
Aleisha was frozen to the spot, scared of making any movement, in case it knocked Leilah’s mood back, in case it drew Leilah’s attention to how out of place Aleisha was. But minutes later, they both heard the jangle of keys in the door, the turning of the lock. Leilah hopped up from the bed, and Aleisha was forgotten. Their spell, whatever it had been, was broken.
‘Aidan!’ Leilah called as she made her way to the front door. Aleisha stooped over the banister, watching as Leilah embraced her son. Aleisha inspected Aidan’s face, wedged between his mother’s shoulder and her head. He was smiling. His eyes were bright, weren’t they?
‘Come with me to the kitchen,’ Leilah said, dragging her son. ‘I might do some cooking!’