The house was quiet when Lyssa walked through the door. She tried to take the plastic shopping bag Dan had given Andre, but her brother held on to it fast.
‘All right,’ she said. She’d just tell her mum that Emily had given the stuff to him.
She turned on the television and Andre sat in front of it, with the plastic bag in his lap.
Lyssa took the bag of hair products into her room and pushed them under her bed. Then she changed into her new jeans and admired herself in the mirror. It was astounding how well they fitted her shape. She dug through her T-shirts. None of them are good enough, she thought, and turned to the mirror again.
Lyssa had never been concerned about how she looked before. But now she knew how good she could look, it seemed that nothing in her wardrobe was right.
She heard her mother come home, so she reluctantly pulled on a clean T-shirt and walked out to the living room.
Her mum smiled at her and kissed each of her cheeks.‘Your hair looks pretty,’ she said in French, touching the crown of plaits.
‘Oh … yes.’ Lyssa had forgotten about her hair.
‘Who did that for you?’ asked her mum as she walked into the kitchen.
‘Emily’s cousin,’ Lyssa said, surprised at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue. Emily was right. Lying did get easier.
‘How’s Emily?’ her mum asked, putting the kettle on.
‘She’s good,’ Lyssa said. Then, vaguely thinking about seeing Dan again, continued, ‘Um, Mum, could you make me a top?’
Lyssa’s mother looked up at her. Whenever she had tried to make clothes for her daughter in the past, Lyssa had refused. She’d never liked people fussing over her.
‘What sort of a top?’ Lyssa’s mother asked carefully.
‘Something pretty. To wear with jeans. I’m seeing Emily’s family for dinner tonight and I might stay the night, if that’s okay with you.’
Her mum nodded and went into the sunroom where she kept her sewing machine.
‘You need it for tonight?’ called her mum. ‘So quickly! You should have told me earlier.’
Lyssa followed her in. ‘I’m sorry. It’s okay if you can’t do it.’ She smiled hopefully.
‘I can do it,’ said her mum, as she pulled out a bolt of lightcoloured chiffon fabric. ‘Is this too pretty?’
Lyssa touched the soft fabric. ‘What would you do with it?’
Her mum smiled. ‘Do you trust your mother?’
Lyssa nodded. She felt bad for lying to her mother, but she wouldn’t understand any of it. Not the modelling, and certainly not Dan.
Lyssa’s mum had told her she was too young to date, not that it was a problem before. At seventeen, Lyssa hadn’t even been kissed by a boy. Dan was the first boy to ever ask her out anywhere, and god knew she didn’t have the right clothes to wear around him.
Her mother looked at Lyssa, and then placed the fabric on the old laminex table she used for her sewing.
‘Don’t you need to measure me or something?’ Lyssa asked.
Her mum looked at her and smiled. ‘I don’t need to measure you, my cherie. I know every part of you.’
Lyssa felt tears stinging her eyes, seeing how happy it made her mother to do something for her.
‘How is Sara next door?’ she asked casually.
‘She is a lovely woman,’ said her mother. ‘I like her.’
‘Good.’
‘You go and I’ll call you when it’s ready,’ said her mum, dismissing Lyssa with a wave of her hands.
Lyssa walked over to sit with Andre in the living room. He was close to the television, his plastic bag on the floor behind him. Lyssa reached forward to pick up the bag but Andre snatched it from her. ‘Oooh, Andre’s a snatch cat,’ she teased, but Andre ignored her.
Restless, she jumped off the couch and went into her room. She had two missed calls from Emily. She called her back as she shut her bedroom door.
‘If Mum ever asks, I was with you today. Your cousin plaited my hair and you bought Andre some colouring books and a train.’
Emily laughed. ‘That sounds so random but I’m down with it. So, how was it?’
‘It was okay,’ said Lyssa slowly.
‘Is that it? You’re about to be the next Tyra Banks and all you can say is it was okay?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lyssa, laughing. ‘It was good. The stylist, Stella, was great. You’d like her a lot, she’s super cool. Dan helped me with Andre. I don’t think I could’ve done it without him.’ She hoped she wasn’t gushing.
‘Dan? The lad?’ Emily’s voice cut sceptically down the line.
‘He’s not a lad, he’s nice. He went out of his way to make sure Andre was okay.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘You don’t trust him?’
‘I’m Vietnamese. We don’t trust anyone besides family.’
‘Half,’ reminded Lyssa.
‘You’d better be nice tonight because he’s coming to your gig.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yes, really,’ said Lyssa with a grin.
‘All right, I’ll be civil,’ Emily said, sighing. ‘Although it’s very difficult for me. I have a natural defensive streak.’
‘I know, and so does everyone you’ve ever crossed.’
‘I have to go. See you tonight. I’ll put your name down with Dan the Lad’s on the door.’
Emily hung up on her before Lyssa could retort. She lay on her bed and checked the time. Four-thirty. She texted Dan the name of the club and told him to meet her there at nine.
Within the minute, he’d sent a text back.
See you there.
She liked that he used full words. She smiled and stared at the ceiling, closing her eyes. She felt so tired.
A knock on her door woke her up. She sat up in bed – it was seven o’clock. She had to get going.
‘It’s finished,’ said her mum, as she walked into Lyssa’s room.
Lyssa looked at the garment in her mother’s hands. Please let it be good, she begged, maybe to the god her mother prayed to every day.
‘Take off your top.’
Lyssa pulled it over her head, realising too late that she was still wearing the bra from the shoot.
‘A new brassiere?’ asked her mother.
‘Yeah,’ said Lyssa casually. ‘From Cotton On.’
Her mother slipped the garment over Lyssa’s head and stood back.
Lyssa turned to the mirror and saw that the chiffon had been turned into a gorgeous floaty top. It was off-the-shoulder, gathered around the bust, and skimmed gently over her stomach. It wasn’t long but it wasn’t short either. It was the perfect length. Lined in white satin underneath, it was as beautiful as anything she had worn at the shoot.
‘Oh, it’s so beautiful, Mum,’ Lyssa said in English.
Her mother stepped back proudly. ‘You have your grand-mother’s shoulders. She was very fine boned.’
Lyssa twisted to look at her back in the mirror. The top was even better than she’d hoped.
‘You’re so clever, Mum. You should be sewing more.’
Her mum shrugged. ‘I should be doing a great deal more, not just sewing. But c’est la vie, cherie.’
Lyssa’s father knocked on the door. ‘You ready?’ he asked gruffly. ‘I’ll drop you off. I’m on all night.’
Lyssa looked at her parents in the reflection of the mirror. They seemed beaten at times, worn down by it all.
Lyssa had never wished so hard that they could all have something more. Everyone in their little house.