Sandra's Education

Introduction: Sandra’s last breakfast at home

When Sandra entered her parents’ kitchen that morning, she was her usual self, grumpy mono- or rather nonsyllabic. Her mother looked up from her half-empty bowl of cereal. She was used to this dark cloud that haunted her house, still haunted her house. Her nineteen-year-old daughter. Dropped out of any school they had sent her to. Tutoring, even bribery had been useless.

Consequently, the jobs she sporadically applied for and rarely got, wouldn’t have paid enough for a flat or even a room of her own. Wouldn’t have, because she was currently unemployed after the restaurant where she was supposed to help in the kitchen, had sacked her for stealing.

That had happened more than two weeks ago. Both parents were used to all kinds of mischief from their offspring but simply couldn’t perceive their daughter as a criminal. Thus, they went to her employer and tried to convince him to keep her. To no avail. Sandra had stolen from her colleagues and even the guests. One day she was caught in the wardrobe rumbling through the coats and bags hanging there. A quick search of her pockets by an angry waitress produced numerous items like watches, rings, car keys, and even a credit card that didn’t show her name.

The owner had finally agreed to keep the police out of it, but only, if the whole family would not set foot in his establishment ever again. This was bitter, especially, as “Chez Maurice” was the most fashionable brasserie in town, the place all their friends and business partners frequented.

Sandra's mother invented an incident with a bad stomach after her last visit. Her friends were less than convinced and rather missed her company than the delicious food. The situation was even worse for Sandra’s father as he couldn’t treat his customers to Maurice’s famous meals anymore and was to disappoint them with the mediocre stuff the other establishments in the small town offered.

“Sandra, my dear, we need to talk!”

It was difficult to see if the girl reacted to her mother’s stern address. Her face was mostly covered with tousled, greasy strands of her otherwise beautiful auburn hair. The smirk on her mouth didn’t change when she sat down. Her younger brother got her some coffee. Without as much as a ‘thank you’ she took her mug and brought it under the curtain of unkempt hair. A loud slurp of the invigorating beverage provided her with the necessary energy to grab a toast and start the lengthy process of spreading butter and splashing jam on the bread. Of course, she made a mess doing so.

“Bob, isn’t it time for you to go to school?”

The fourteen-year-old boy looked at the serious face of his father and got the message. He swiftly got up, took his schoolbag, and left the house after – well-behaved boy that he was – kissing his mom goodbye.

The ensuing silence was only interrupted by the crunching noise of Sandra chewing her toast with an open mouth. Jam around her mouth, around her table, and in her hair. After what felt like an eternity, her father got up and started to talk.

“Sandra, please leave that poor toast alone, go into the bathroom, and make yourself presentable.”

The controlled tone of her father should have warned her. Robert Hamer was not an aggressive man. Normally, he tried to avoid conflicts much to the chagrin of his wife. The latter pestered him for some time now to do something about the negligent squatter existing in their midst. To say, she was impolite would have been the understatement of the century. To be impolite, she would have had to acknowledge the existence of her family. She simply ignored them. But not today. Her father wouldn’t have it.

“Now get up and listen. Goddamnit!”

The miracle happened. She stopped eating and lifted her head, even wiping her hair out of her face.

“Sandra, please …”

“Stop it, Louisa! Sandra, this was not a suggestion but an order! I have had enough of this behavior. Your Mother and I have decided that something has to be done. You need help. We need help. We will have a visitor soon and I don’t want him to see you in this state!”

Sandra was shocked. What happened to her gentle father who had always defended her, even venerated the soil she trod on? There was something in his eyes. Sadness, and disappointment she was used to, but determination and anger were new to her. She slowly got up and left the table.

“Louisa, please help her and select something nice for her to wear.”

“Robert, do you really …”

“No more discussion! We should have reacted a long time ago. Now it is too late for restraint. We need to go all in. Otherwise …”

Louisa did not wait for his sentence to end. Without further ado, she followed her child up the stairs.