I was going to make this chapter even longer, but I didn't want to take away from what already happens in it, so I'll finish it up in the next post...
She hadn't wanted to get dressed up, and certainly hadn't wanted to come into downtown Baltimore by herself to look for a job. Still, her anger and Corny's harsh words kept her moving as she climbed off the bus, making a vow at that moment to demand to pay more attention in driver's ed. Not that it would help much, seeing as though she didn't have, and couldn't afford a car, but still. She had already been through enough; public transportation was like a punishment in itself.
Her high heels hit the pavement of the business district, and she swallowed hard. It was the first time since this had all started that she'd been anywhere other than school by herself…well, at least when she hadn't been making a mad dash out of the house to escape.
She tried not to feel a certain way as she let her feet carry her up the sidewalks, and past store windows and bars. The high heels should have been hurting her feet, but they weren't. She had, in fact, been feeling strangely euphoric since she'd stepped off that bus, because in a way, Corny had been right. She had let herself go since she'd moved in with him. She had stopped trying to make herself beautiful, and until this very moment, she hadn't cared.
There was something about being in the chilly air of late fall, wrapped in the warm faux fur coat that Corny had managed to sneak from her closet. The wind chilled her, and it made her knees tremble through her dress, but it couldn't hurt her, she knew that. She'd been to the darkest corner in the deepest well, and she knew the difference between things that hurt you, and things that chilled you. This wind was definitely a chiller, but not a killer. It made her feel slightly refreshed, made her remember that even though it had seemed like years, even lifetimes ago, she had been whole once. It gave her hope; led her to believe that maybe someday, years from now, she'd be able to be that girl again. Even if it meant she missed out on a few years of her life, it was a greater optimism than she'd had in a long while, and for the first time in months, she held her head up, against the bitter wind. The breeze slipped through her golden locks, and she pushed them from her face. She set her jaw, and her eyes fell upon the small "Now Hiring" sign in the window of a small diner. She recognized it as a diner that she and her mother had often visited, but it seemed so different now. Those late dinners, where Amber hadn't been allowed to order anything more than a salad with no dressing, seemed like lifetimes ago. They would sit at a table in the middle of the restaurant and heckle the waitresses, the customers. Velma would often encourage Amber to complain about her order, even if there was nothing wrong with it, simply so that the waitress would be inconvenienced to bring them another drink, another plate. It was an endless, vicious cycle that, at the time, Amber had found wildly entertaining.
She had never wanted to be a waitress; had never thought it would come down to this, but, indeed, it had. She stood outside the window for a moment, watching the people bustle around inside, and buried her face in her coat. It was now or never, she knew. She could swallow her pride, go inside, and ask for a job. She could try to forget that she'd always considered waitresses the lowest of the low, and had never even bothered to leave a tip when she ate out. She could ignore the fact that she'd always thought waitresses to be exactly what she was now; lonely, abandoned young women who could do nothing more than offer a broken smile as a cheap attempt to ask for money. Most people pitied waitresses, but Amber never had. She had always assumed that they chose this life because they knew they couldn't do any better. Maybe that's what she was doing, now.
Finally, she pushed through the door, and a bell tinkled over her head as her heels clipped the tile floor. Amber dodged the crowds inside and made her way to the counter. She placed her fingertips on the counter, clearing her throat softly as a man leaned in to speak to her.
"Uh, I'm here to ask about that job you're hiring for," it was so strange, saying the words, because she'd never had to do anything like this. The man spoke with her for a moment, and told her that it was a job for a waitress, evening and weekend shifts. He told her that they'd been extremely busy with the upcoming holiday season, and that he would hire her and train her within the next few days if she wanted the job. She stood for a moment, then blinked. She'd never had any idea it was this easy to get a job, and nodded her head dumbly in response.
And that was how Amber Von Tussle became a waitress.
It wasn't the best she'd ever felt about herself, but she knew as she pushed her way out the door of the restaurant and into the streets again, that it was the right thing to do. She could never expect to be able to do anything, get anything, without money. She let herself get lost in the fantasy of her first job; how much she would make, how good it might feel to save that money and use it towards some huge purchase like a car, or her first few months rent for an apartment. She was, in fact, so caught up in her own meandering thoughts that she didn't realize that when she turned a corner, she bumped into a tall, thin blonde woman. She felt her cheeks flush hot and sputtered suddenly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she had begun to back away when the woman turned on her heels. "Oh my God, Mother."
Velma glared at her suddenly, her lips twisted into a sneer. Amber had almost decided to run, but stood her ground suddenly. Today was the first day of the rest of her life. If she ever wanted to begin to think about moving on with her life, now was the time to start.
"Don't 'Mother' me," Velma spat her words back at her, studying her as if she were a diseased animal, "I have no daughter."
As much as the words hurt, she had expected them. As much as they brought fresh tears to her eyes and made the back of her throat sting with tears, she had only assumed this would happen when, or if, they met again.
"Fine," Amber nodded her head, desperate to keep her tears at bay, "You keep pretending to be completely clueless about what happened at home. I am not the one living with the devil."
"Oh, Jesus, Amber," the older woman rolled her eyes mockingly, "Are you really that ignorant? Do you really think Corny wants you living with him? He feels sorry for you, you little tramp. It's all he talks about in the studio; he'd throw you out if he could, but he can't stand to see you looking so damn pathetic."
Amber felt the rush of blood to her head and pursed her lips.
"Well then he's still a step ahead of you," she replied smartly. The wind was still cool, but suddenly, Amber was more than warm enough, "You didn't even care enough to help me when I was begging for you to listen to me."
Velma waved a hand dismissingly at her, and turned to go. Amber was enraged suddenly, at the fact that she was being turned away again, by a woman who had just dismissed the abuse she'd taken at the hands of her fiancée.
"Listen to me!" Amber reached out, grabbing her wrist and holding her tight. Velma turned quickly, and their blue eyes met instantly. Amber studied her mother's face, and her eyes grazed upon a small, dark spot just beneath her collar. She recognized it immediately; she'd had enough of them to know a bruise when she saw one. She felt the breath slipping from her lungs silently, and then furrowed her brows, glancing back at Velma's face.
"You knew," they were the only words she could muster at first, and she shook her head slightly. A mixture of fear and hatred began to burn behind her eyes, "You knew the whole time. He was doing the same thing to you, wasn't he?" She realized her mistake quickly, "Isn't he?"
Velma studied her with a gaze of steel. Amber felt herself scoffing; it was the only thing that held back the sob in her throat.
"Why, Mother?" She demanded the words angrily, "What in the hell do you think we've done to deserve this? What gives him the right to do this to us?" She swallowed hard, "You knew that he was hurting me. I thought you were just infinitely stupid, I thought you didn't believe my words. And yet, the entire time, you knew what was going on. You knew that when you left me alone in that house with him that he was going to hurt me, rape me, destroy me." Finally, she couldn't control herself longer, and let herself sob. "What gave you the right to do that to me? You are my mother, you were supposed to protect me!"
Velma pulled her wrist from Amber's grasp, and leaned her blonde head in quickly.
"Stop complaining, you little brat. You have no idea what it's like in the world, Amber. You have no idea what it's like to have to fight your way to the top of something that you've worked so hard for, only to be knocked back down. You don't know what it's like to have it hard."
"Oh, I don't?" She sneered suddenly, "I had to hide in my bedroom, Mother. I had to lock my door at night because I was so terrified he was going to kill me." She gritted her teeth at her sudden memory; the pain was still as fresh as ever. "Do you know what it feels like to have to dance the day after you've been raped? Do you know how it feels when your insides are so fucked up that you don't know if you'll ever be the same again? I thought I was dying, Mother, and all because your fucking boyfriend raped me so hard, and for so long, that it felt like my insides had been ripped out. You don't think that's 'having it hard'?" Amber bit her lip so hard that she tasted the bitter blood immediately, and shook her head. "What is wrong with you? Why haven't you called the police on his sorry ass? Why are you letting him do this to us? You owe me an explanation, Mother."
She didn't expect an answer from Velma, but at that moment there was an almost indiscriminate change in the older woman's eyes. She pulled her mink stole around her tighter. Her face suddenly looked so pale, so frighteningly dead that it reminded Amber of the way she looked, without her make-up or hair done. At least with all of those superficial beauties, Amber could look like her old self. Velma face was buried beneath the pounds of make-up she wore each day, and still, she looked like death.
"I'm being replaced at the station," Velma said the words quickly, as if someone were listening to her, "They're bringing in someone younger." She narrowed her dark blue eyes at her daughter suddenly, "I am not giving up the life I've grown accustomed to just because some cheap tramp…" there was a sudden pain in her eyes and her voice faded. She clenched her jaw. "Chip has enough money. I'll never have to work again."
"Mother, he's going to kill you," Amber pleaded with her, though she wasn't exactly sure why. Amber's eyes fell upon the diamond on her left hand suddenly, and she gasped softly, new tears forming in her eyes. "No," she begged gently, "Please…don't tell me you're marrying him…please, please, don't."
Velma gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing dark suddenly.
"I would rather be dead than poor, Amber."
The words hit Amber hard, and she found herself physically gasping for breath as Velma turned on her heels and continued on her way. She held her head high, even now, with those bruises on her skin and that collar of a diamond ring on her finger.
Amber stood numb for a moment, watched her walk away, and had a feeling it would be the last time she ever saw her mother, alive or otherwise.