Failure of a daughter | Alex

— Are you smoking?!

The question was as absurd as asking a person walking into the bathroom with a towel, "Are you showering?" It was asked more out of shock than anything. Alexandra was an adult, of course, and could smoke the whole pack if she so chose, but Nicole was taken aback by the very fact that Alex hadn't found a better place to smoke than her own room.

— N-no!

An equally absurd answer followed. Alex quickly stubbed out the cigarette against an improvised ashtray — a devoured cup noodle container — waved her hand to disperse the smoke, and immediately returned to the computer without gracing her mother with so much as a glance. The raid was in full swing. Something on screen demanded her complete attention, and the death of a character was clearly a far more pressing problem than the death of trust between mother and daughter.

For Nicole, of course, those words meant nothing. She merely exhaled slowly, trying to take control of the incoming — obviously negative — emotions.

— Fine. We'll talk about this later. Alexandra, do you even go to university? You've been holed up at home for two weeks straight.

— W-we have online classes. And I-I already told you that bald professor got sick and they cancelled h-half the lectures.

— That was over a month ago.

— S-so he got seriously sick.

She mumbled it so quietly that her voice barely rose above the clatter of the keyboard. Nicole just stared at the back of her daughter's head for a few seconds.

— What are we paying money for, then?! This is absurd. If they couldn't find a replacement in a month, it's not an educational institution, it's some kind of circus.

Yeah, it was a circus. And Alex was the head clown in it.

— Y-you don't need to call anyone!

Nicole had already opened her mouth, but Alex hurriedly continued:

— I-I mean, i-if you call, it'll get to the other professors and they'll fail me on my exams.

Nicole didn't answer right away. She just sternly planted her hands on her hips. The gesture looked especially absurd given that Alexandra hadn't turned toward her for even a second.

— Why would they fail you?

— B-because...

— Because?

— Because they j-just do.

— Who?

— Everyone.

— All the professors?

— Y-yeah.

— Alexandra, I'm not asking you about some secret professor mafia right now. I'm asking why you can't just call the university and find out whether your classes are actually cancelled.

The keyboard kept clattering.

— B-because...

— Because?

— I'm busy.

Nicole blinked.

— Doing what?

— Playing.

For a few seconds, the room went silent. Even Alex seemed to realize what she'd just said. She gripped the mouse a little tighter.

— I mean... I'm in a r-raid right now.

— I understood.

— It's i-important.

— Of course.

— If I leave, I'll l-let people down.

Nicole looked at the screen. Then at the cup noodle container. Then at the cigarette sticking out of the makeshift ashtray. Then back at her daughter.

— And you're not letting the university down?

Alex said nothing.

— Alexandra.

— W-what?

— Look at me.

Alex immediately shut her eyes. Not because she wanted to obey. The opposite. It was her old, almost childish way of hiding from what was happening. If she couldn't see the person in front of her, she could at least pretend they weren't there.

— I don't want to right now.

— I can see that.

— Then why are you b-bothering me?

Nicole slowly lowered her hands.

— Because I'm your mother. And because I care what happens to you.

— I'm fine.

— No, you're not.

The words came out too fast. Alex stopped typing. Nicole herself felt she'd said it more sharply than she'd meant to.

— You don't go to university. You lie to me about classes. You lie about work. You sit here for days on end, barely leave your room, smoke, and spend money on games. And every time I try to talk to you about it, you come up with a new reason why today specifically won't work.

— I'm n-not lying.

— Alexandra.

— I'm n-not...

— You just said the professor has been sick for a month.

— So what?!

She finally turned around. Her face was already flushed. Her big gray eyes darted anywhere but at her mother.

— So what?! M-maybe I got confused! I don't r-remember!

— You remember perfectly well.

— No!

— Alex...

— MOM, FUCK OFF!

Silence.

Alex froze. It seemed she'd only just heard her own voice. Nicole slowly raised her eyebrows. Alex looked away. Her cheeks flared.

— I...

She tried to say something, but the words crumbled apart.

— I didn't... Fuck.

She buried her face in her hands. And for the first time in the entire conversation, she didn't look angry — just utterly lost.

Utilities, spam, spam, spam, and a letter that looked very important. In movies, this is the moment when the hero stops flipping through envelopes and pauses with a complicated expression on his face. Teenagers would say "bro thinks he's in an edit."

The text read as follows: "University blah-blah-blah, hereby notifies blah-blah-blah, Alexandra blah-blah-blah... Expelled."

Expelled. After more money had been spent on this university than any educational institution has the right to charge. After all her talk about "online classes," "sick professors," about how she'd successfully passed her exams.

Where was Alexandra herself? The same place as usual. In her room. But if before she could still be believed — not out of stupidity, but simply out of love for. Her daughter — now it was obvious that in her room she was doing anything but studying.

— Alexandra, did you take money from my wallet?

The question was so casual that Alex didn't even react at first. She was sitting at the computer, one leg tucked under her, typing something in the game chat.

— W-what?

— Money. From my wallet.

— N-no.

The answer came too fast. Nicole noticed.

— Are you sure?

— Y-yeah.

— Then it's strange. There was a hundred and fifty euros. Now there's forty left.

The keyboard went silent. Just for a second. Then it clattered again.

— M-maybe... you spent it yourself.

— I remember perfectly well how much was there.

— S-so someone took it.

— Exactly.

Nicole crossed her arms over her chest.

— That's why I'm asking you.

— I already said I didn't take it.

— Okay.

Nicole paused.

— And the twenty euros last week?

Alex slowly stopped typing.

— W-what twenty euros?

— I noticed a charge on the card. A purchase in some game.

— I d-don't know.

— Alex.

— Maybe it's a mistake.

— The bank made a mistake four times?

Now Alex wasn't looking at the monitor anymore. She was looking off to the side, nervously twisting a strand of hair.

— I didn't take your money.

— I wasn't asking about my money. I asked if you took money at all.

Alex swallowed.

— N-no.

— Then where did you get the money for all these purchases?

— I...

She fell silent.

Nicole took out her phone and opened the banking app.

— Because I can show you the list of transactions.

Alex said nothing.

— And I can show it to {{user}}.

— Don't.

— Why?

— Because...

Alex faltered again. She was clearly trying to come up with an answer, but none of them seemed convincing enough even to herself.

— I'll p-pay it back.

Nicole frowned.

— What?

— I'll pay it all b-back.

For a few seconds she just looked at her daughter.

— So you did take it after all.

.