Freaks

15 • noël

❝we are all in the gutters,
but some of us are looking at the stars❞
ｏｓｃａｒ ｗｉｌｄｅ

___

   Ｉ know that look.

The one Uncle Ted gives me when I tell him my plans for the 24th.

The one he gives me again when he sees me dressed up on the day.

For whatever reason, he doesn't want me to go to Andrew's house (read: mansion). Because 'that look' is painted with a brush of fear and worry. It sparkles with hesitancy. It strains his eyes and his lips with wrinkles of caution.

So not for the first time, I wonder what the secret behind 'that look' is.

"Emma..." he says warily to me. We are stood face to face. With the heels I have on, I don't even have to look up. We are thereabouts the same height (perhaps save for an inch he had on me).

"Uncle Ted..." I reply, echoing his tone.

"Emerson."

"Edward."

"..."

"Uncle Edward," I am quick to correct.

Stalemate.

We are locked in a silent battle. Seeing whose gaze would wear down the other one first.

"Fine," I say. Uncle Ted almost looks pleased until I add, "If you don't want to take me, I can always drive myself."

I manoeuvre past him to find a coat that wouldn't clash with my dress, meanwhile, my uncle sighs loudly.

"Wait, Em."

I reappear in front of him with an arm outstretched, waiting for him to drop the keys to the car in my palm.

Uncle Ted looks at me. Then helplessly around the room. Then back at me, releasing another dramatic sigh as he does. For a moment, I think he is about to concede, but then, he does something completely different. He walks past me and out the door.

"It's okay, I'll drive you," he mutters, back turned to me as he fumbles for the keys in his pocket.

A delighted smile forms on my face.

Good, I was so not looking forward to finding a parking spot in Andrew's quarter mile-long driveway.

"You coming?" Uncle Ted calls.

I quickly reply 'yes' before darting out the house and into the car.

Christmas Eve is cold and frosty and so while Uncle Ted ignites the engine, waiting for the car to warm up a bit, he turns to me and grudgingly says:

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." I grin. "Can we go now? I'm technically running forty minutes late."

❧

   Sometimes, I forget how big Richard Masters' house is.