alizeh :: mgc

४ - 'boys can wear lipstick'

4 - 'boys can wear lipstick'

A knock at her bedroom door woke up Alizeh, followed by a text message vibrating her phone. She lay on her back, her shirt riding up around her waist as she stared at the ceiling. Maybe she just imagined it. Turning over, she hugged her body pillow into her chest. Her room, as usual, was cold, hairs erupting across her bare shoulders as she hid underneath the blanket. She always failed to shut the window before she fell asleep, which left her with sore throats that returned quicker than they left, and the extreme reluctancy to leave the bed in the mornings. The knock occurred again, and she rolled over, looking over at her door.

"Zeya?" Laila called softly. "Can I come in?"

She hummed in response, pulling down her shirt so her midriff was covered. The door opened, and her mother walked in, a black pencil skirt hugging her legs, and a blouse tucked in. She wore a dark cardigan over her shoulders, and her hair pinned up into a bun. Alizeh smiled, raising her eyebrows as her eyes caught the glimmer of the earrings she bought for Laila's birthday.

"Hey, Mum," she said softly, sitting up with her duvet falling onto her lap. "It's your first day of your new job. How do you feel?" She covered her yawn with the back of her hand.

Laila nodded. "Confident." Alizeh gave her a look, and she sighed. "Okay, nervous. I haven't worked in an office since... I don't know, 2004?" She approached the bed, and knelt in front of it, pressing her lips onto her daughter's forehead. Her perfume was rich in the crook of her neck. "You're going out today, right?"

"Yeah, I should be." She put a hand under her pillow and took out her phone, checking her text messages. Michael had sent two, one from yesterday asking if she got home safe, and one from that morning telling her he'd pick her up at half eleven. "I am."

Her mother held her a little while longer. "You'll call me if you need anything, right? I'll leave the office if you need me to. There's money in the tin beside the microwave, food is in the fridge, all the important numbers are on the landline, uh..."

"Mum." Alizeh pulled away, resting a hand on Laila's forehead. They both laughed a little. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

She bit her lip. "You know, I don't need to go in, today. I could go in on Monday, so you aren't alone..."

"Mum."

"I'm sorry." She pushed Alizeh's hair from her face and looked at her. Their eyes were the same -- deep and brown, and never lasting on somebody else's completely. Hypnotic, people would say, and the only gaze they could meet completely was each other's. They didn't say anything, because they knew what would be said, and what would be thought. Alizeh knew Laila wanted to be both a mother and father role after the divorce, and that it was difficult to leave her alone without wondering if she was doing okay. Alizeh knew Laila was protective, and would give up her whole world for her daughter. It was nothing new to be said. They both knew they needed each other. "I'm sorry. But, we can have breakfast together, if you want? I leave in half an hour."

"Of course." She swung her legs off the bed and stretched, pulling Laila in for another hug. "What are we having?"

"I fried up some eggs."

"Ah, my favourite." She stood up, and her mother followed, her heels hard on the stairs which Alizeh trod barefoot.

They ate together, sat next to each other. Alizeh's head dropped onto Laila's shoulder tiredly as she finished off her eggs. Alizeh and Laila were much closer than they ever expected themselves to be. Three years prior, Laila -- heartbroken and on the verge of dissolving her sorrows into indulgence -- filled out the divorce papers with Alizeh's father, the night after she caught his affair. He left, not putting up a fight as thought. Now, remained Alizeh and Laila, clueless as to where he went, and they planned on keeping it as such. So, they lived alone together in a house near Charing Cross, depending on each other, and nobody else. Alizeh grew up learning love was weakness. Laila sat with tears in her eyes as she taught it.