Beautiful People | wlw

Fourteen: Carried Away

Vera winced. "Yikes. Your mom said that? She doesn't still talk like that, does she?"

"I don't know. We don't have a relationship anymore," Sharise said, her voice flat and expressionless.

"Shit." Vera's throat tightened in sympathy. "I'm so sorry. Now I feel bad for always complaining about my annoying sister."

"Don't be sorry. It was the best decision I ever made."

Vera didn't have anything to say to that.

By the top of the six steep flights of stairs, Vera was puffing. "That is a workout. Oof. I need to start swimming again." She pressed a hand to her spasming side.

"You're a swimmer?" Sharise's keys rattled in the lock. The climb had barely deepened her breathing.

"I was competitive in high school. Won a silver medal once. Now I just do it to stay fit." Vera followed Sharise inside the apartment. "Haven't kept it up since my last relationship, though. My arms are limp noodles now." She pushed up her rolled sleeve and flexed comically, pursing her lips. "I can't believe you're not embarrassed to see how out of shape I am."

"Your level of fitness is nobody's business but your own."

Somehow Vera melted a little more. She slipped her heels off, aches sharp in her arches and a small spasm shaking up one calf as she relaxed her feet flat onto the floor. She really did need to start swimming again. And stretching. Wearing heels shouldn't make her legs hurt so much. "You mind if I use the washroom?"

"Just down the hall."

Following Sharise's gesture, Vera looked around with interest. She hadn't expected the apartment to look so soft: everything was white and newly-hatched-chick yellow and a pale, dusty rose. Old-fashioned white wicker end tables and overstuffed chairs furnished the living room. Peeking into the bedroom on the way by, Vera saw a quilt that bloomed with a whole garden of roses and daffodils and violets; the second bedroom lifted watercolour landscapes of ocean and desert above the desk and between the bookshelves. In the washroom, the silver rack held fluffy towels of a pale, blushing pink. Vera found herself smiling at discovering this ultra-feminine side to Sharise. Just when she had been starting to feel like she knew her so well.

Then, unable to resist another peek into the bedroom on the way back, Vera saw the four bulging cardboard boxes stacked against the wall under the tall window. It felt like catching her fingers under the needle of her sewing machine. The memory pricked, Carmen asking, "Has Ellie come back to get her stuff yet?"

Vera frowned at the floral quilt. Maybe the decor wasn't Sharise's choice at all. It made her stomach twist to think of Sharise decorating this place together with a woman who would go on to break her heart.

Sharise was lifting two wine glasses down out of a cupboard when Vera returned to the kitchen, and she stood for a moment admiring the strong curve of Sharise's spine, the subtle grace in the movement of her arms. In a narrow crystal vase on the counter by her elbow, tulips were just beginning to blink open. The whole scene seemed so tranquil, so perfect, like Vera had conjured it into being simply by wishing it.

Turning, Sharise smiled at her, eyes warm, and Vera didn't understand how someone could want anything more than to have Sharise smile at them like that. That smile warmed her right down to her toes, crooked a matching smile onto her own lips.

"I like your place," Vera said, because she couldn't say, I promise I will never take you for granted.

"I should've warned you I have the taste of a white grandma," Sharise said in a dry voice, and Vera probably shouldn't have been so relieved.