Our parents exchanged compliments throughout dinner while Beatrix and I continued dinner often peering up to answer yes and no questions.
"Beatrix so you like to paint." Marco my step dad places his fork and knife at the sides of his plate.
"I do." Out if the corner of my eye I see a flutter where Beatrix sat. I became depressed. There are butterflies around her ones that you wouldn't see if they were still, they were transparent.
Mom in the other hand has pink butterflies about her she adores the strange thing. "I'd love to see your paintings sometime." She says.
"Do you like art Mrs. Strey?" Beatrix asks.
"Oh yes I do. When Clarence was ten he used to forever draw the prettiest butterflies."
"Oh?" Beatrix says curiously.
I stand quickly and cautiously. "I'll start cleaning the table."
Mom smiles gratefully.
"Oh why don't you help." Mrs. Mey urges Beatrix.
"I'd love the help." I add.
And together Beatrix and I gather the dirty dishes and take them to the sink and start washing them.
"Your mom's nice." Beatrix says.
"Thanks." I say distractedly.
"Your dad's nice too."
"He's my step dad." I correct.
"What happened to your real dad?"
"Oh I don't know some nosy girl asked about him and he disappeared from the face of the earth."
There was a long silence(excluding the sound of the running tap.) and I realized that Beatrix was waiting for my real answer.
I sigh. "He died in a car crash. Satisfied Ms. Nosy?"
She didn't reply and I felt anxious waiting for what she was gonna say next.
"My parents committed suicide and tried to kill me too." Beatrix shows me her wrists. They're scarred like they were slit. Whatever I thought or hoped she'd say wasn't this.
"Your eyes are a different colour from when you were at school." I change the subject.
"Oh I wear contact lenses when I'm at school. People like to stare at my eyes and it feels awkward." Beatrix sounds relief at the change of subject. "Mom suggested it."
I
nod and peer at Beatrix's wrists again. Beatrix notices this and frowns.
"Your fingertips are wrinkly you can go now if you'd like." I say quickly.
Beatrix looks taken as she saw that I was right.
"I've washed dishes only a few times before. I'm actually pretty sheltered."
"I feel sorry for your future husband." I say in mock sympathy. "You're gonna be quite the house wife."
Beatrix unexpectedly wipes her soapy hands on my face, shirt and leaves.
"Insensitive jerk." She mutters grabbing a hand towel and enters the living room.
I laugh.
