Face Of The Monster

***17***

Phoebe Kim is easy to spot and she knows it.

She is tall enough that she stands out in a crowd of people, and her long, jet black hair used to be a major giveaway. Now, it's obtrusive in a different way, tips dyed a bright turquoise that matches her glasses. She'll cut it off in a few days, but for now, she catches sight of blue threads when a bit of hair escapes the braid. Aside from this, she has a face of rare severity and quite a few floral dresses in her closet.

Phoebe Kim is easy to spot but she tries to hide anyway. She's tall, but Chloe is taller, especially when Phoebe is in flats. She ducks behind her girlfriend, leaning her face on her back as though seized by a sudden burst of affection. Chloe glances at her, eyebrow raised. She asks if Phoebe is okay and Phoebe says yes, yes she is.

Around the corner, Phoebe watches Emma and her daughter disappear into the next aisle and lets out a breath. Chloe's eyes light up. "Hey, isn't that your client? The one that stayed over that one time?"

They are looking at toothpaste in the hygiene aisle at Target while they wait for their prescriptions. Phoebe doesn't know why it takes so long to pop a few antidepressants into an orange bottle and pass them over the counter, and she didn't care much until right now. Now, she wants to get out as fast as she can. Chloe looks at her. She nods.

"We should go say hi!" Chloe says. She's acting a little goofy, high on fresh air and steroids. She begged Phoebe to let her tag along to the store, saying that being cooped up inside by herself was only making her feel worse.

Phoebe smiles at her afflicted girlfriend who is worrying her more by the second. Her butterfly rash is peeking out from behind the foundation caked thick on her cheeks.

She's been having hallucinations as the inflammation presses further in her brain, which are just about the worst thing about her condition. Phoebe is almost afraid to leave her at home alone. She hasn't eaten all day because she sees bugs crawling on her food, says she can hear them, too. She has aggressive visions, like the one she had yesterday afternoon where Phoebe found her stabbing holes in a cereal box with a kitchen knife. She has somber ones, too, like this morning when she clung to Phoebe and sobbed, muttering something about danger downstairs.

Phoebe squeezes Chloe's arm and says, "If she sees us, we'll say hi."

Chloe nods. She rubs her eyes, the manic energy that had seized her just a moment before seeming to fade away. "Okay," she says. "We should have her over for dinner sometime."

Emma would never agree to that. Phoebe nods. "That's a good idea."

"Did you take her the cannoli?"

"Yep. She says thank you very much."

"Okay." Chloe looks wearily at the rows and rows of toothpaste lining the wall. "I think I'm gonna go sit down near the pharmacy window. I feel a little woozy."

"I told you you should have stayed home."

"Sorry."

Chloe walks away, clutching her sides. Phoebe watches until she's out of sight. She makes a conscious decision not to go make sure she got there. Chloe is an adult, perfectly capable of conveying herself from one aisle to the next. Phoebe chucks a pack of toothpaste into their cart and starts to leave the aisle.

"Chloe? Is that you?"

"Oh! Hi there."

Phoebe's heart freezes. She sighs to herself. leaving the cart in the middle of the aisle to chase down her rogue girlfriend.

When she reaches them, they are in the hair aisle, assaulted on all sides by brigades of shampoo and scrunchies. Emma is grinning and Chloe is approaching her. The daughter stands off to the side, looking majorly inconvenienced.

"How are you doing?" Chloe asks. Phoebe isn't entirely surprised, but Chloe pulls Emma into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her.

"I'm fine," says Emma. "Oh, you poor thing. You're so thin. Phoebe says you're feeling a little under the weather?"

Phoebe slips into the aisle as unobtrusively as she can manage, but Emma notices her anyway. She gives a shy wave, which Phoebe returns. She places herself behind Chloe, laying her hand on the small of her back. Emma's right: she's lost quite a bit of weight.

Chloe is alight with energy again, a grin taking over her face. "Oh, I'm alright," she says. "Trying not to let it get me down."

Emma nods. If only she could see Chloe at home, cranky and depressed. Phoebe gives Chloe's waist a squeeze. "Why don't you go sit down, honey? Didn't you say you felt dizzy?" Chloe agrees and, after saying goodbye to Emma and giving her another hug, toddles away to find the bench, more slowly this time.

"Is she okay?" Emma asks. She takes her daughter by the shoulders, pulling her into the circle of conversation.

"More or less." Phoebe offers the daughter a smile. She just stares. "Who's this?"

"Oh, this is my daughter Cande," Emma says. She gives Phoebe a look that says Cande definitely does not know who she is. "Cande, this is my friend Phoebe."

Cande frowns at her, not offering a greeting. "Who's the creepy lady?" she asks.

Phoebe almost laughs, but Emma looks horrified. She supposes Chloe does look a little creepy, skin pale enough to be translucent from lack of sun, eyes wild with medication. She's walking a little funny, too, trying not to hurt her sensitive kidney area. Emma gives her daughter a little shove. "You can't say things like that about people."

"It's okay," Phoebe insists. She turns to Cande. "She's my girlfriend. You'll have to excuse her, she's a little out of it right now."

But Cande doesn't care. She turns to glare at her mother and spits, "Why are all your friends gay?"

Emma turns scarlet, her eyes wide. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she demands.

"Are you gay? Is that it? Is my mom a friggin' dyke?"

Phoebe doesn't want to witness this. She knows they're both under a lot of stress from their current situation, that they aren't acting like themselves. She doesn't feel angry at the girl at all, rather, she pities her. She obviously needs some kind of attention she isn't getting at home.

"Get out of my sight," Emma says. She yanks her keys off of her belt loop, chucking them at her daughter. "Go wait for me in the car. I don't want to see your face right now."

Cande gives a hostile grunt, shoots a glare in Phoebe's direction, and stomps away.

They listen to her footsteps retreat, the muted sounds of the store filling the empty space she left. Emma heaves a loud sigh and says, "I'm really sorry about that."

"Oh, it's alright," Phoebe says. "I should probably go check on Chloe."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, I guess."

"Call first," she says. "If Chloe gets any worse, I might have to stay home with her."

"Alright."

They look at each other for a second. It's strange to see Emma out in the world, just being a normal person. Looking at her right now, Phoebe doesn't see the broken woman that turns up at her office a few times every week, seeming to be perpetually on the verge of tears. This woman seems in control, ready for whatever comes next. Phoebe waves goodbye and goes to pick up her pills.