Chapter 2 Cold welcome

Becka pressed the doorbell. No response. She pressed the doorbell again. It was then that she realized that it was open. She opened it and went in. The blaring television, the strong smell of cognac, the warm atmosphere and the aroma of seasoning steak, combined in one large whiff as she entered. "Rita? Rita?" she called out. Rita came out of the kitchen with an apron hung around her neck, wearing oven mitts. "I'm back" Becka said, when Rita only stared at her and said nothing. "Well?" Rita asked, in an unusually cold voice. Her tone startled Becka and kept her speechless for a moment. "I...

I... just wanted to tell you that I am back home" she answered. Rita surveyed her for sometime, and returned to the kitchen. Becka went to her room. She placed baby Sandra in the crib, dropped her duffel bag on the vanity table and flopped down on the bed.

No welcome, she thought to herself.

She was startled by the way Rita had behaved a few minutes ago. Rita had been a happy and humorous person to her, and that was entirely different from the Rita she'd seen. Rita didn't welcome her, although she didn't expect one. Anyway, I've created a big mess and I've pulled them all into it, she thought, staring blankly at the ceiling. She knew the amount of money Harry and Rita had spent buying items in anticipation of her baby. Tears filled her eyes. Her Mom mustn't hear about the fact that she got pregnant and had a baby, if she did...well, Becka was sure Mom would go into a coma. Dad would simply release a long stream of curses, shake his head and tell her off. I've disappointed you all, she thought. Harry didn't tell them she'd gotten pregnant. Becka didn't want to either. The shame would be too much for her to bear.

But, how long can I keep a secret?, she asked herself.

She was sorry for herself. Very, very sorry. She knew no one would bear the brunt of whatever she had turned her life into. With her own hands at that. She heard her stomach grumble. She'd only eaten sausage rolls with coffee in the morning and she needed food. Little Sandra would soon awake and she would have to nurse her. She stood up and went to the kitchen. Rita was on the dining table eating silently when she entered. "Rita, I'm hungry. Is there anything for me to eat?" Becka asked, looking round the kitchen. Rita looked up. "There isn't any food for you. You have to cook for yourself" Rita simply replied. Becka frowned. "I thought...you were seasoning steak a few minutes ago." she put in. "I made it for myself. No one told me you were coming home." Rita said tartly.

Becka shrugged and headed for the fridge. "Potatoes only, Becka." Rita said before Becka could reach for a bowl of fries. "Why can't I ?" Becka inquired, quite defiant. Rita looked up and arched her brows. "No one is eating potatoes, and I can't afford to waste them." Rita answered grimly. Becka started. "Rita, what's going on?" she blurted out, unable to take it any longer, " You've really changed. What's the matter?". Becka was now glaring at her. Rita didn't look up. "Nothing." she replied, nonetheless coldly. "You don't mean it, Rita! You've been grim and looking strangely at me since I've entered this house!" Becka said angrily. Rita looked up this time. She opened her mouth as if to talk, but instead clamped it shut and continued eating. "You didn't even welcome me, Rita." Becka snarled furiously. Rita raised her hand. "Don't you ever talk to me like that!" Rita corrected sharply. Becka was taken aback. Rita rarely behaved this way. Rita was only gloomy whenever she was drunk to stupor. Obviously, Rita wasn't drunk this time.

"Well, what about Harry?" Becka diverted, not wanting to anger Rita. She had seen Rita's anger once; when she had playfully insisted that the male colleague bringing her home everyday in his car was Rita's boyfriend. Rita had lashed out at her, and Becka had been forced to tears because Rita insulted every bit of her that day. She didn't want that this time. "He's returning soon." Rita answered, her tone softer than the latter. Becka leaned on the fridge. "Rita...I don't want to eat potatoes." she said, quite authoritatively. "You can eat fruits." Rita said immediately, as she left the kitchen. "I'll cook pasta, Rita! I'll even drink your bottle of whiskey!" Becka shouted after her. She said a foul word and set to prepare pasta.

After dinner, Mom called.

"Hello, Becka. How are you?" asked Mom.

"Fine." Becka knew she wasn't fine at all.

"I hope you're being a good girl, Becka." Becka rolled her eyes. She hated that question.

"Yeah." she lied. She knew she'd been doing a bad job of that lately.

"So, how are your studies?" Mom wanted to know.

Becka wanted to lie about that, but she decided not to.

"I dropped out, Mom." she blurted.

"You what?". Mom was shocked.

"I dropped out. Didn't Harry tell you?"

"Becka...why did you do that?"

"I did it because I felt like it. School isn't as easy as you think, Mom." she answered insolently.

"So, what are you doing now? Partying?"

"I'm enjoying myself at home, Mom."

"Becka, don't become an invalid!"

"I'm not!" she knew she was becoming one. And very quickly.

"Your dad would be angry with you, Becka."

"And what does that mean?"

"You should make something out of your life, girl!"

"Mom..."

"If you complete your high school education-"

"Mom!" Becka was feeling uncomfortable now.

"Harry and Rita can't be there forever."

Becka didn't answer. Mom ranted on.

"Just like you tonight." Becka finally said, angry.

"Be a good girl, Becka. Do you hear me?"

"I don't hear you!"

"I hope you'll change someday, Becka."

"Oh yeah?" Becka taunted with a wild laugh.

"Good night, Becka."

"Sleep tight, Mom."

"You didn't tell me to greet your Dad, Becka."

"Fuck Dad!".Becka cussed and hung up.

She returned to the sitting room and sat, watching Harry and Rita drink some champagne. She didn't feel like having one. So, she watched T.V for a while, and returned to the room when she heard little Sandra's cries. She lifted her baby from the crib, sat on the bed and nursed her. There was a kind of feeling Becka had whenever her baby suckled: the feeling of inadequacy. I'm a mother, the reality dawned on her. She was sure all her friends would be mocking her- she remembered when she used to boast of her effective birth control pills. When Kathy, one of her friends in the 'circle' , had gotten pregnant when they were at junior high, Becka had been the forefront mocker of the girl. Now, she knew, she would be the butt of their jokes.

She felt tears threatening to flood out of her eyes when she thought of how many changes she would have to go through for her life to be meaningful again.