Jessie & Elizabeth (abandoned)

17. Platonic Professions [Part 2]

"What do you think of my make-up?" Manon had walked up to me, chin up, turning her head to the left and the right to show me the glittery purple eyeshadow and coordinated lipstick. She was wearing a royal blue dress that reached her ankles, much too wide in some places; obviously, it belonged to her mother. 

What was it with me and the urge to cry today? With only a few weeks to go until Christmas, I was usually one small ball of restless energy, driving everybody crazy with horrendously sung renditions of "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and "Santa Baby". This wasn't the first time Kenny had acted like a jerk, so there was no reason this should be affecting me any more than all those other times. Sure, it would've been nice if my brothers asked me about my life for once, but they'd never been socially savvy— really, it was my own fault for suddenly setting expectations I knew they couldn't meet.

I did my best to marvel at Manon's make-up, hoping they couldn't hear I was close to tears. Then, a tiny hand patted my foot, and when I looked down, I was met with Cami and her dazzling gap-toothed smile, reaching for me from her position on the floor. "You can come into the castle if you want," she said. I didn't hesitate, desperate to take part in this wholesome scene, even if I didn't really belong.

The tent was cozy, littered with pillows from all over the house. A lamp was placed on an empty cardboard box in the middle. Elizabeth sat cross-legged beside it, surrounded by her whole supply of make-up: endless shades of eyeshadow, a vast array of eye pencils, tubes of lipstick in bold red and subtle beige-pink, and all different kinds of brushes and ointments I wouldn't know what to do with. Judging by the state of her face, she'd been experimenting: her make-up was heavy and dark, a stark contrast with her usual subtle elegance.

She smiled at me, again, touching my knee for a moment, as if she knew I needed it. I didn't smile back; I couldn't. She didn't seem to be bothered by it. "Have you picked a color yet, Cami?" she asked, and I was grateful, because the last thing I wanted was to start wailing in front of all of them. Talking about embarrassing... Cami hovered over the palettes, discussing each option in-depth, and I just sat there and watched — all I could think of was Ma, and how maybe her teaching us how to kindle a bonfire one Saturday morning wasn't enough to compensate for all the evenings she'd spend at the bar.

Elizabeth placed a hand on Cami's cheek, steadying her, lips parted and brows arched while she applied the silvery blue to pale eyelids. Apparently, it tickled, and our girl giggled with each stroke, Elizabeth never losing concentration. Her calm, steady movements soothed something in me, and before long, I'd stopped fretting over irrational brothers and started to marvel at her handiwork. The other two joined us, and I found myself laughing again, squished between Ari and Cami in a tent that was absolutely not meant to hold so many of us.

Manon was side to side with her mother, and it was wonderful to see them like that, no tension at all on a day like today. "Mom," she said then, fumbling with the fabric of the dress. "Why did you never really do stuff like this before?"

Elizabeth dropped her hand, the other going to her hair, tugging at a tangle in her ponytail. Manon would've never asked a question like that when I first met them, and she would've deflected, finding an escape route out of the conversation. She'd promised to be more open, though, after the truth about Connery had come out. So, she took a deep breath and continued trying to apply mascara onto Cami's lashes. "When I was sixteen," she said, tipping Cami's head back, "certain people started telling me to act my age and that nobody would take me seriously if I didn't, and after a while, I... believed them. It's not easy to unlearn ideas like those." There was enough hesitance in her suddenly rigid shoulders to tell me it'd been Connery and company, and a wave of anger rolled through my body. Almost every girl probably had had a similar experience at some point, though something in me was sure hers had been extreme.