The Reappearance of Rachel Price

by Holly Jackson

Ash: camera assistant. Saba: sound person. James: camera operator. And Ramsey: filmmaker, producer, director.

Because she wasn’t Susan to Bel. She was Grandma. Rachel’s mom.

“Fuck you, Susan. Fuck off back to your fucking horses, you horsefucker,” she said.

“Well, it’s a bit awkward, me just fiddling with you, so I thought I’d do a conversation,”

Me just fiddling with you

Bel turned to face Ash, looked him up and down, moving her eyes but not her head. “Double denim,” she said. “Oh, thank you,” he replied, patting his clothes.

“Oh wait, let me turn you on!” Ash said, loudly, the chatter in the room dimming around them. Bel felt a warm and uninvited flush creeping up her face. “Huh?” Voice breathy and awkward. “Your microphone,” Ash said, with an almost-knowing smile, moving to fiddle again with Bel’s back pocket.

Making people leave her before they chose to go anyway. Same result in the end, because everybody left eventually, but it hurt less. That was what life was, choosing the way that hurt less.

Bel waited, ready for the fight. Didn’t he know, she’d spent her whole life fighting?