𝖋𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 ⋆ 𝕶𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖓 𝖉𝖆𝖞

𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖊

╔═══°∴,*⋅✲══〖✰〗══✲⋅*,∴°═══╗

          "I'm afraid that we got off on the wrong foot yesterday," says Matt's mom the next morning, immediately after she asked Daisy if she'd ever seen a plastic surgeon. "I'm really sorry about dinner, it was an honest mistake. And I'm very protective of my son, so anybody in his life with addiction issues sets off my alarm bells. I really didn't mean to upset you."

          How rude of Matt to bitch about me to his mom? Daisy thinks, and then she says, "Honestly, it's fine. I was anxious from the flight, and I didn't want to make things worse. I'm sorry for skipping out on dessert."

          "Oh, psh," Randy scoffs, flipping a hand in the air the way only rich women without real problems do. "Anyway. I have an olive branch. And if you argue... well, I can't think of anything right now but I'm sure I'll be able to before you leave the city."

And this is how Daisy is led into the lounge, with it's wide expansive windows overlooking Central Park, to find an antique bronze menorah in the window frame.

"Oh," she breathes. It's been eight years since she last lit a real candle, instead of flipping a new switch on the electronic one Renee bought her when the Foxes brought her home. Eight years since her Dad shakily climbed out of his armchair, frail as anything with his skin draped loosely over protruding bones, and dropped the match on the carpet instead of touching it to the candle.

"Matt mentioned that you're Jewish and you couldn't find yours at school, and I know Hanukkah started a few days ago but I spoke to a local Rabbi and he said that it's okay to light the ones we missed all at once, and we can do gifts tomorrow instead of on Christmas if it would make you feel-- Daisy!" Randy finally notices Daisy shaking with unshed tears, and reaches out to touch her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't know-- is this a sensitive subject? I can never keep up with you kids..."

"It's okay." Daisy smiles through cloudy eyes, tries to blink away the tears but only succeeds in letting them roll down her cheeks. "Thank you, Randy. I really appreciate the thought."

Randy returns the smile, squeezes the girl's arm firmly. "Do you want me to get your boyfriend if you're upset?"

"I-- what?"

"The tall, pale one? You two are together, right?"

The shock almost cuts through Daisy's grief. "No, we're not! If I hear one more person ask if we're dating, I'm going to kill them and then myself."

It takes Randy aback momentarily, and then she laughs nervously. "Okay."

The woman leaves. Daisy stares at the menorah longer, stares at the candles in each of the arms of the candelabra and the pack of matches underneath. She wonders what happened to her dad's. Did Jack pawn it when they left Williamsburg? Is it somewhere in the storage unit of random junk she pays to keep but has never visited? Perhaps one of their family friends has it, maybe it's become their family heirloom instead of hers. Maybe it's in a garbage dump somewhere, covered by used tampons and banana peels and a soggy copy of last week's newspaper.

She takes a slow, shaking breath.

We're not thinking about this right now. File it away for when you have Betsy.

So she goes upstairs to the gym. Kevin is still in there, where she left him when Randy pulled her away, and she offers him a closed lip smile while he pulls weights on the cables. He drops the weight immediately and stares at her.