This Four-Leaf Clover is All But Useless Now

Annabelle’s hospitalisation lasted two weeks. Not once did her mother visit her. Although she pretended not to care, she sort of did. A lot. On the day of her discharge Annabelle asked her regular doctor, Phillip, whether they had managed to contact her.
“I’m afraid not, Annabelle.”
Alex looked down at her, hand on her shoulder, biting his lip. He had to admit that his girlfriend looked a lot healthier, healthier than he’d ever seen her. At the hospital they had been pumping her full of nutrients through a drip, and then slowly adding solid foods, in tiny amounts, regularly throughout the day. Her skin was softer, her hair shinier, and her body slightly fuller. Although she had protested about the regular meals at first, protested that she had a problem, eventually she began to submit. Alex thought that being diagnosed with anorexia came as a massive shock to Annabelle. She was still coming to terms with it. During her stay she had been seeing a therapist daily, who had prescribed pills to balance the hormones, the chemicals in her brain. Annabelle planned on throwing out the pills as soon as she got home. She found the idea of prescribed drugs ludicrous. Her brain could sort itself out. But at the hospital they made her take them.

All Time Low had a month before they started touring again. A month left of being with Alex. This time they were flying out to Europe. Annabelle appreciated the feeling of her soft palm against his calloused one. Their hands slotting together like puzzle pieces. She leaned against him as they left the hospital. She realised what a burden she had become on his life. She had apologised so many times to him in the past fortnight. Alex and the rest of the band, Kara. They all had to look after her. Her dumb little self. It was then she started to realise that she had a problem, when her problem got in the way of her friends. She sighed inwardly, feeling the place which the knife entered her stomach. The stitches were gone, but the tight feeling remained in her side, the ugly hole beginning to scar. Annabelle hadn’t seen anything outside the hospital walls since she arrived, and now, clutching her case and the papers the doctor had given her about the outpatient programme, she stepped into Alex’s car, a silver Chevrolet. The radio was on quietly, some sort of indie rock. Downtown Baltimore blurred past, so familiar.
“How are you feeling?” Alex asked. Annabelle nodded, looking over at him.
“I’m great.” She smiled, “You?”
He reached for her hand and squeezed, “Just dandy.”
Annabelle chuckled, and told him to take a left. The ride to Annabelle’s suburban bungalow was mainly quiet, Annabelle directing Alex occasionally. Alex, who was wondering what sort of mother, what sort of person, could leave her own child in hospital without a word. He was quietly fuming in the driver’s seat, without letting Annabelle on. Going home would be a lot more stressful for the girl next to him, and he did not want to add to that stress. She was fidgeting with his hand, still linked with hers. She looked up suddenly,
“Turn right.”
Alex turned into the side street, saplings lined the road, but someone had come along and broken the branches off the first few. Annabelle pointed out her house as the car rolled slowly toward it; a nondescript, small, creamy coloured weatherboard thing. Much like any other in the street. He turned into the driveway.

Annabelle took her time exiting the car. Alex retrieved her case for her. Although it was well past lunchtime the curtains were still closed. Perhaps her mother had developed a habit of sleeping in while she was away. The air was surprisingly hot for Baltimore, stifling. She unlocked the door, motioning to a wary looking Alex to follow her inside. Annabelle knew something was wrong the moment she stepped in. The house was too quiet, the air too stale. No one had been here for a while. The door clicked close as Annabelle placed her case on the floor in the hallway. She didn’t bother calling out. Instead she began to check all the rooms. The kitchen looked like a show-home, all plates neatly stacked, nothing on the bench that was usually strewn with papers. A layer of dust had settled over everything in the living room. Annabelle went into her mother’s bedroom. The bed was made. Upon checking the closet, she discovered that none of her clothes were present; nothing, as if she had never lived here. Annabelle walked into her own room, the shock of it travelling through her body. Alex trailed behind her. Her own room was as she left it; neat, tidy. She sat on her bed, feeling numb. The gash in her side began to throb and she helplessly pressed her hand to it, as if staunching an invisible flow of blood. Alex knelt in front of her, gently taking her hand. She avoided his gaze, only looking up when Alex pressed a slip of paper into her hand. She must have missed it when she had gone through the rooms.
“Dear Annabelle,” She read, “I’m just popping off for a few days, not sure when you were home, so here’s some cash in case you arrive back before I do.”
Attached to the paper with cellotape was a few hundred dollars. Annabelle detached the money and let the note crumple into her fist.
“Fucking hell.” She choked.

“Do you think she’s not coming back?” Alex asked. Annabelle shrugged, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. She refused to cry over her fucking mom. She spent too many years crying already. Alex wrapped his arms around her waist and she collapsed onto the floor with him. They lay, Annabelle staring at the carpet, shocked and above all, disappointed. She noticed the flecks of dust, strands of hair, fluff. Alex breathed her in, wrapping more and more tightly around her, constricting her. He wanted to engulf her, to keep her safe.
“This is bullshit.” He whispered vehemently. She nodded.

***

“You’re not going to call her?” Zack asked, his hand resting on Annabelle’s arm. They were sitting around Alex’s tiny kitchen table, the entire band and Kara. Annabelle shook her head, despondent.
“There’s no point.” She had found her mother’s mobile tucked away in a dresser drawer, dead to the world. Placing it in her pocket, she took it out now to show the group around the table.
“Charge it and see if there are any suss messages?” Rian offered. Annabelle looked at him.
“Invasion of privacy, much?” Jack piped up, trying to create humour. Kara glared him down.
“Wait, I think I have a charger for it from my old phone.” Alex suddenly said. He had been very quiet since discovering Annabelle’s mother’s disappearance. Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. Annabelle laid a hand on him as he went to get up. Shaking her head,
“I don’t want to know.”
Everyone exchanged a glance.
“What are you going to do now?” Kara asked. Annabelle shrugged.
“Would it be immature of me to say I don’t want to think about it yet?”
Kara’s eyes crinkled. Alex wrapped a arm around her shoulder and she started laughing as he pressed her into his chest.
“Not at all.”

Notes