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“Where have you been?”
Jude had barely even stepped back into the house- her head still full of fun thoughts from Dublin and Deirdre- when her father’s angry voice greeted her from the living room. She stood in the doorway, keeping a suddenly tighter grip on the overnight bag she’d taken with her. “Dublin,” she said, forcing her voice to remain level. “I told you that.”
“No, you didn’t.” He stood up from his chair, looking at her suspiciously, and Jude stepped back without meaning to. “You never said anything about going to Dublin. What were you even doing there, Judith?”
“I told you. I was in Dublin for a runway show.”
“Modelling.” He spat the word out as though tasted foul. “Useless.” That word came out as a hiss and Jude honestly didn’t know whether it was addressed at her or the profession. It could have been either. Her father kept it no secret what he thought about his only child. -Slut, Bitch, Whore, Worthless, Useless-
“I don’t give a damn what you think,” she whispered and looked down at the carpet. She didn’t see him but she felt him moving closer to her. It made her temperature rise with anxiety and she concentrated on breathing slowly. Breathe. Don’t let him see it get to you, she begged of herself. Just for once pretend you’re not scared of him. He’s just a man. He’s just your-
“What did you just say to me?” She flinched despite herself when he clutched her arm.
“Nothing.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper and her eyes were burning a hole in the carpet. Her father’s fingers were digging into her arm and she desperately wanted nothing more than to calm him down. It would be better. Everything was less scary when he was calm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was going to Dublin- I thought that I had- and I’m sorry for being disrespectful and I’m sorry-” Please don’t hurt me “-for coming home so late. And I’m going to Manchester on Thursday, which I think I’ve told you about but I’m very sorry if I haven’t, sir.”
“Judith, look at me.” It took her a long time to dare raise her eyes. He met them firmly and then slipped into a knowing smile. It wasn’t kind and he knew it. They both understood what that smile meant.
I win.
“You're not going to Manchester." Pregnant pause. "And I’ll deal with your punishment tonight.”
It was Jude could do to stay standing. I’ll deal with your punishment tonight. She lowered her eyes once again just to keep breathing. It was no use to fight. Fighting would only make it worse. He released her arm and turned his back, walking back to his seat. Jude couldn’t make herself move until he dismissed her. And even then her movements seemed to belong to someone else, someone made of stone.
She closed her bedroom door behind her with the quiet click and then slide down it, her back pressed firm against the panels. Could she stay here? She could just block the door and then he’d leave her alone. She could just keep him out and he’d go away. And all she could think as these ideas were crushed was that smile. Why did he always get the wear the winner’s smile? When did Jude get to win?
Jude had barely even stepped back into the house- her head still full of fun thoughts from Dublin and Deirdre- when her father’s angry voice greeted her from the living room. She stood in the doorway, keeping a suddenly tighter grip on the overnight bag she’d taken with her. “Dublin,” she said, forcing her voice to remain level. “I told you that.”
“No, you didn’t.” He stood up from his chair, looking at her suspiciously, and Jude stepped back without meaning to. “You never said anything about going to Dublin. What were you even doing there, Judith?”
“I told you. I was in Dublin for a runway show.”
“Modelling.” He spat the word out as though tasted foul. “Useless.” That word came out as a hiss and Jude honestly didn’t know whether it was addressed at her or the profession. It could have been either. Her father kept it no secret what he thought about his only child. -Slut, Bitch, Whore, Worthless, Useless-
“I don’t give a damn what you think,” she whispered and looked down at the carpet. She didn’t see him but she felt him moving closer to her. It made her temperature rise with anxiety and she concentrated on breathing slowly. Breathe. Don’t let him see it get to you, she begged of herself. Just for once pretend you’re not scared of him. He’s just a man. He’s just your-
“What did you just say to me?” She flinched despite herself when he clutched her arm.
“Nothing.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper and her eyes were burning a hole in the carpet. Her father’s fingers were digging into her arm and she desperately wanted nothing more than to calm him down. It would be better. Everything was less scary when he was calm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I was going to Dublin- I thought that I had- and I’m sorry for being disrespectful and I’m sorry-” Please don’t hurt me “-for coming home so late. And I’m going to Manchester on Thursday, which I think I’ve told you about but I’m very sorry if I haven’t, sir.”
“Judith, look at me.” It took her a long time to dare raise her eyes. He met them firmly and then slipped into a knowing smile. It wasn’t kind and he knew it. They both understood what that smile meant.
I win.
“You're not going to Manchester." Pregnant pause. "And I’ll deal with your punishment tonight.”
It was Jude could do to stay standing. I’ll deal with your punishment tonight. She lowered her eyes once again just to keep breathing. It was no use to fight. Fighting would only make it worse. He released her arm and turned his back, walking back to his seat. Jude couldn’t make herself move until he dismissed her. And even then her movements seemed to belong to someone else, someone made of stone.
She closed her bedroom door behind her with the quiet click and then slide down it, her back pressed firm against the panels. Could she stay here? She could just block the door and then he’d leave her alone. She could just keep him out and he’d go away. And all she could think as these ideas were crushed was that smile. Why did he always get the wear the winner’s smile? When did Jude get to win?
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