Happily (ON HOLD)

Chapter 4: Stiff Hugs

In high school, weekends were sacred. Treasures to be grateful for, and ones you must spend wisely. I, however, did not follow this rule of thumb and either lazed around or stressed myself into madness.

My freshman year weekends went one of two ways: scrolling mindlessly through my phone and burying it under the pillow so dad wouldn't find me looking at celebrity ab pictures, or fixating on a particular thing for two days, causing my mind to either draw a blank on the topic or burst into tears at my conclusions.  

That Saturday, as the sunlight shone through the window, I lifted my head from my drool-covered pillow case and my mom was who invaded my mind.

"Oh shit," I grumbled, preparing for the worst. There was only one way this would end and I already saw it coming. "Can't have one good day without-"

"Breakfast's ready!" Martha -apparently the housewife- called out. Red sweatpants and an old basketball hoodie may not have been the most pleasing attire, but it suited the occasion.

A bowl of oatmeal was set out for me on the table and I could see cinnamon sprinkled on top -just the way I liked- making me feel guilty for thinking of Martha as a housewife earlier. Not that she wasn't, but I typically associate the word with negative qualities.

"Good morning," she said, sending me that gentle smile of hers. Martha may not have been my favorite person, but she was surely a step-up. When she first moved in it took a while getting used to, not just for her, but me too.

She's got this delicate and fluid movement that my real mother never possessed, so it was strange when the house suddenly wasn't as loud and rambunctious. Words came from her mouth steadily and without hesitation; the people around her transfixed.

Martha carried out every action earnestly and cared for people without question. A mother if I ever saw one.

☆

I was mid-pity party when Lena demanded my presence in the living room to play hide and seek. Even though I wasn't feeling it, I couldn't let her down, it would only bring a larger weight to my shoulders, one the size of a soon-to-be five year old.

Lena's dress followed her movements a second behind, the silky princess gown being one of her longer ones, with Rapunzel's freckled face on the small oval that was sewn into the chest.

Lena was winning seven to nothing, and I couldn't even cover up my losses by saying I let her win; the girl had some talent for running away. Alarming, but I was in no position to judge.

"Again!"

"No," I refused, "I've lost my dignity."

"This is doing wonders for my self-esteem." Lena straightens her posture. The child was too clever for my own good.

I gathered the sweat from my temples onto my fingers, mixing them with the oils on my fingertips before wiping it on the end of her puff sleeve.

"For your musk."

☆

Lines ran through my mind like I was reciting a script before a show, but, personally, I think this situation was much more dire.

I needed to convince Harry to waste his day spending time with me so I wouldn't fall into a rabbit hole of wondering where my mom's at.

One knock, then two because I didn't think he heard. A third one teased the door, but then Harry's welcoming face met mine.

"My best girl-bro!"

"Harry," I yanked him outside. "Code red."

"The hell does that-?"