August ✷ Jeremiah Fisher

ii. it's an iou

     Bea titled her head slightly, nodding. She swooped up the dresses and climbed onto the top bunk bed where she folded them all neatly, placing them in the corner of her bed.

     "For the record," Kat said from under Bea's bunk bed. "Mama would kill you first if she knew you were going. I'd have time to make a run for it. How do you plan to pull that off, anyway?"

     She froze. "Yeah.. about that, hahaha- I need you to cover for me, darling sibling."

     Kat stood up abruptly. "No fucking way, Bea. Cover for your self."

"Don't be salty just cause you can't come," Bea chided. "I'd do the same for you if you needed me too."

Kat groaned. "Fine. But you owe me one."

Bea squealed, jumping up and down. "Yay! Thank you, Kat!" she enveloped Kat in a tight embrace. Once they pulled apart, Bea scrambled to grab a sticky note. She pulled a pencil out of her cardigan pocket and wrote, in that fancy cursive of hers, IOU.

She passed the note to Kat. "Here, it's an IOU. Lose the paper and I'm no longer in debt to you. Keep it and I'll do you one favor no matter what."

     Kat opened her mouth to speak, but was cut of before she could begin. "Girls," Lindy shouted up the staircase. "Dinner's ready!"

♱

     "So," Lindy smiled at Bea. "I stopped by the club yesterday and picked up this," she slid a white envelope towards her daughter.

     "What is it?" Bea wondered aloud and she lifted it delicately from the table.

     "It's a letter addressed to you in regards to becoming a debutante!"

     "Where's Kat's?" Bea piped up as she and her sister made eye contact.

"Kat is too young, honey. I figured it'd be something you'd like to do, you're of age," Lindy's expression, Beatrice had noted, was so giddy, it was almost unusual. Seeing her mother, who tended to lean closer to placid composure, this excited instantly made Bea equally excited.

Bea had heard of the infamous Cousins Deb Ball, and the idea of being a Debutante wasn't exactly horrid to her. In fact, she was quite fond of the idea. "I'd love to! Thank you so much, Mama!" Bea gushed.

"Yay!" Lindy clapped her hands. "You know, when I was a teenager like you, I was a debutante. That's how I met your father."

     Kat tensed at the mention of her father, Warren Cordova. It was nearing two years since the accident, and still, the subject of Warren was still raw. It took Kat every fiber in her being not to wince or shed a tear at the mention of his name. Sometimes, Kat couldn't help but think that Bea was cold hearted for not crumbling at Warren's mention. She wished that whatever secret Bea had stumbled upon, allowing her composure to stand strong, would one day be passed on to her.

     Bea hadn't tensed, flinched or winced at the faint detail of Warren Cordova as he appeared in their conversation. How do you do it? Kat wondered, just as she had every other time. She vowed to ask one day.

What was not even remotely apparent to Kat was the weight that her fathers death had imposed upon Bea. She knew that it was harder for her mother, obviously, and that she and Bea were devastated. The jobs which were traditionally resigned to the father figure were tied with heavy string to her mother the moment Warren's heart ceased beating. Lindy had a lot on her plate, and Bea did whatever she could to lighten the load because she was the eldest.

It was different at the summer house, though. August, June and July were months of the freedom and lack of burden that they all desperately craved. Cousins was, and always would be, a safe haven.