pressure (pushing down on me)

turnabout succession

VII.

April 19th, 2019

Pearl

The egg sizzles happily as she carefully flips it face down, tongue poking between her teeth. With a shaky hand, she slides out the spatula from beneath, and beams when she pulls away clean, leaving the yolk whole and unbroken in a hissing splat.

"Mystic Maya!" she announces, excited. "I did it!"

"Way to go, Pearly!" Maya calls from the living room. She muffles her giggle of triumph, knowing it's not nice to brag; Mystic Maya is a little terrible at cooking, she and Mr. Nick both think so, but they never say it out loud. (He just winks at her and says Maya has other talents, and if Mystic Maya overhears, she puffs up at him like the fish from the aquarium she saw once, the one with all the spikes and silly eyes.)

Since they have been living in his apartment all together, she's been excited to learn how to make food in the kitchen with her Uncle Nick. He's been teaching her how to cook "easy stuff" to start, even letting her pick out foods she likes at the store—he and Mystic Maya sometimes need reminders to pick up healthy foods like spinach and fruit, and she is very good at reminding—and so far, making breakfast is her favorite. Dinner is too hard and takes too many pots for her to balance all at once, but Uncle Nick is very patient, and he always tastes what she makes even if she knows it isn't very good. This time, he's going to come home from work to a perfect egg!

If I can get it out of the pan without breaking it, she thinks worriedly. In Pearl's experience, pulling off the last step of things is always the trickiest part.

The telltale metal scrape of a key in the front door lock makes her perk up on her stool. Maybe her uncle can help her slide it out of the pan without mistakes, and then it will be her first real breakfast done (mostly) all on her own. There's the familiar sound of hinges creaking and the thud of a briefcase on the floor, and she cranes her head towards the door, smiling wide.

"Uncle Nick! I made an egg! Sunny side...um...down!"

She expects one of her uncle's warm chuckles or words of praise, but nothing greets her declaration. She twists on her stool, but from where she sits in the kitchen, the front door is out of sight. Maybe he didn't hear. Uncle Nick has a tendency to get "lost in his big empty head" sometimes.

"Hey, Nick! How did the case go?"

Silence. Eyebrows pinching together, Pearl turns the stove off, clambering down stool-legs.

"Nick?" Mystic Maya's voice twists with confusion, and as she rounds the kitchen island, Pearl sees her rise from the couch in the living room. "Is everything okay—? Oh. Hi, Trucy. Where's your dad?"

Pearl circles the corner, and finally, Uncle Nick is visible. He's standing unmoving in front of the door, keys dangling from his fingers. The pretty pink girl from before, the new client's daughter, is half-hiding behind his leg.

Her face is red and puffy like she's been crying. Oh, no, Pearl thinks, heart sinking.

She looks up at her Uncle Nick, mouth already open to ask why, and feels her heart drop to the bottom of her stomach.

Her uncle's face is always doing things. Even when he's sad or angry, it's always moving, bright or stormy or turning colors. It's pretty easy to guess what he's thinking, because he's "the worst liar of all time". She never knew anybody who made faces like him, growing up in Kurain, and it's one of the things that makes him special.

But she has never seen this expression on his face before. Because it's not an expression at all. There's nothing there.

"Uncle Nick?" she asks softly, worry prickling like hot little spikes in her chest.