oneshots » gmw

the fool - rilaya

the was one of the hardest things i've ever had to write.

-

she comes home late, a strangely large smile on her face. she's panting, trying to catch her breath. she usually never runs, ever. riley sits on one of the crumbling barstools, reading a book from the small library in the extra bedroom. she's put on her most famous "i'm bubbly and happy and have no problems" mask to conceal the concern she's had since seven thirty. that was the time she was supposed to be home. it's ten twenty-three.

riley just stares out of the corner of her eye for a few moments, watching as she strips out of the red knee-length boots they bought last month with the smallest bit of extra cash they had combined. they shared them, because money was too tight not to. finally, she leans against the door frame, yanking her phone from her back pocket, the screen lighting up her flushed face in the dark. she hadn't seen her this happy in a very long time.

"hey, welcome home," riley says finally, turning on the stool, unable to just watch her smile like the phone is her entire world. she jumps in surprise, the phone landing screen-first on the hardwood. she scrambles for it, checking for cracks. riley briefly thanks god there's not any, it's really the only thing that makes either of them look not-so-poor.

"hey honey," she says, an almost fake smile replacing the beautiful genuine one from moments before. riley wishes she knew how to keep her mouth shut, she wanted the other smile back, not whatever was being forced her way right now. "i didn't see you there!"

riley now wonders how, the flickering kitchen light is on, not illuminating much, but certainly enough to see a body sitting on a stool not five feet from the door. she pushes it into the back of her mind.

"what're you so happy about?" now it's a faceoff: who's mask can hold longer? and riley wins, when her's flickers at the question. she doesn't dwell in the victory.

"oh, i've got a show gig out in philly next week! it's really private, only exclusive artists and a plus one only rule. i think i'm going to just take my mom to this one, if you don't mind of course, she hasn't been to a showing of mine in a while. but isn't that great?! these people have- uhm, lots of money to spend on art, i'll maybe make enough to get the oven fixed!"

riley grins, because the smile on maya's face is infectious. even though at least three things in her story don't add up (for one, katy had been to the last four showings) and she's a little hurt she didn't think about how she had family in philadelphia, she disposes of the negativity. what reason does riley have not to believe every word she says? maybe the look that she's failing to mask, the one that's screaming "please believe me, please, god, believe me", but other than that? nothing. she loves this girl with everything she has.

so riley lets slide, grabbing a box of brownie mix they'd been saving for a special occasion from the cupboard. and with half-lit eyes and prominent "i'm happy" masks, they celebrate an art showing in philly that doesn't exist.

...

she returns from "philly" two and a half weeks later, with nothing more than a hasty voicemail as explanation. the credit card bill shows maya checked into a soho hotel the day she supposedly left, and riley decides she doesn't really want one.

...

she smells different when she steps across the faded welcome mat. of course, it really only says welom anymore, but at one point, when they were dead ass broke and more scared of the world than when they were thirteen, she had bought that mat; brand spanking new. riley had been working harder than she ever had in her life, trying to complete her second year of yale in the tiniest apartment possible, with so much work in such a small place that it actually stacked around her in comically tall piles.