Alice will be just shy of 9 years old when her mother hits her for the first time. There will be no way to tell who is more surprised. Her mother, Victoria, will stop. Briefly lowering her hand to her side before using it to gently brush Alice’s hair behind her ear. She will apologize while the red in Alice’s cheek melts into a soft pink, and because Alice is her daughter, she will forgive her. Victoria will feed her child the lie– the one that promised love and protection– and Alice will swallow it with ease.
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Victoria was young and beautiful– she believed those were the only two things to be. Visitors often floated through their home, a fact Alice will later view with a far-off sense of disconnect; she will see it as nothing more than an inevitable transaction. Her disposition will have long since been pushed past the point of care. But for now, she watches her mother, enchanted, forced to live through the beautiful woman’s clandestine evenings.
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Alice grew up with men all around her, just out of reach from any sort of connection. She never knew her father, though sometimes she wondered. The only time she brought up the thought to her mother, she was just shy of 9 years old. The mention of him left Alice with only a bright sting in her cheek and a guarantee she’d never bring him up again.
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Just under the fire escape, a group of women walked the street arm-in-arm, eyes crinkled in delight. Alice asked her mother why she never had girls like that around; she was always so serious with her men. Serious and something else Alice wasn’t old enough to understand. Her mother said that men liked her but women didn’t, though she didn’t mind because she didn’t care to compete. ‘Luckily, I’ll never have to compete with you.’
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Squinting into the cracked mirror on their dining table, Victoria will paint her already perfect face with layers and layers until Alice’s mother is nowhere to be seen. Victoria will drink liquors, taking Alice’s mother even further away from her as Alice picks up the house, cleans the kitchen, and erases her existence from sight. Victoria will turn into a different kind of beautiful and Alice will watch her, crescent moons pressed into her palms, wishing to be more like her.
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When Alice is alone, she often rummages through her mother’s side of the closet. Her small hands brush the cheap fabric stopping only when she’s landed on her favorite red dress. She puts it on, adding lipstick too dark for her complexion and heels far too big for her feet, and pretends to be Victoria. She knows exactly how to speak, how to sway her body the way her mother does; expertise a consequence of years of watching. Only in these moments does Alice let herself wonder what it would be like to be her mother. She wonders what it’ll be like when she’s finally beautiful.
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Victoria will return home when the only light illuminating the room is the moon shining through the window. Calloused hands will grip her leg below the red dress, tumbling onto the bed she and her daughter share. In the closet out of sight, Alice will count ruts in the dry wood wall until the slam of the door signals her release. The creak of the wooden door as Alice steps out will draw Victoria’s attention from the bills littering the bed. Bills that meant a roof over their head and food on the small wooden table tucked in the corner of the room. Wrapped in a cotton robe, she will summon her daughter over and tell her that one day, ‘we’ll get you your own room.’ But she won’t. She never will. Her mother often makes promises she doesn’t keep.
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On the night before her 13th birthday, Alice will sneak out of her closet to use the bathroom while her mother and one of her men lay in bed, eyes long since closed from the substances littering the side table. She’ll tip-toe across the hardwood floor, but the creak of the bed will stop her before she makes it to the door. She will turn to see the man standing from his place in the bed, a slight sway in his stance. Their eyes will meet, and she will grow all too aware of the skin exposed under her shorts barely covered by her stretched shirt. Alice will cross her arms, trying to hide the vulnerability she’ll feel from the man’s eyes raking up and down her body. At that point, she’ll swiftly turn away from the man and shuffle towards the bathroom. Just before she closes the curtain, closing herself off from the man, she’ll pause, she’ll think. She’ll hesitantly turn towards the room, slowly lowering her head, look up at the man through her eyelashes– the way she’s seen her mother do all those times before. The man will amble towards Alice, and her heart will jump as he stares down at her with glassy eyes. He’ll look at her in a way men look at her mother, and she will understand why her mother does it. The weight of his gaze will press down onto her– forcing the backs of her knees to meet the coolness of the ceramic toilet. The man will glance at Alice’s mother still deeply asleep on the bed as he closes the curtain separating the rooms. Her heart will jump for an entirely different reason as she takes a step towards the curtain, but the man will block her path. He will touch her, and because she is her mother’s daughter, she will let him. The man will look bigger and Alice will feel smaller. She will look up, eyes skimming over the cracks in the ceiling, paint long since peeled off while calloused fingers grip her skin. She’ll follow the cracks as they disappear behind the curtain and pretend to be up there with them, looking down as if she weren’t seeing herself. She’ll shut her eyes, and think back to the women laughing on the street. She’ll wish to be them for just these few moments. Promising to whoever might be listening that she would give up everything good in her life just to be someone else. She will not remember what it felt like aside from the sharp pains of his body meeting hers. He will not be gentle and she won’t think to ask him to be. She will understand why Victoria dresses up, becomes someone other than her mother for these evenings. Then it will be over and she’ll feel something in her chest, but it won’t be beauty. She’ll wonder if this is the way her mother felt, if this is the way she’ll always feel.
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She will open her eyes to the man walking towards the door, buttoning his pants, and adjusting his coat. Her mother will awaken and just before the door closes behind the man, his eyes will widen, tripping over the words ‘I left extra for the girl’ as he slams it closed. Victoria will look back at Alice, finally noticing something the man seemed to have uncovered about her. They’ll look at each other, eye-to-eye, and this time when she hits her daughter she won’t think to apologize.
Zoë Dauksch