Kenny was furious with me.
Initially, I'd intended to send him the money after all; it wasn't like Elizabeth would ever find out. That option flew out of the window quickly when he started the messages. Apparently, I was ungrateful, which honestly was a bit unfair, considering everything I'd done for him when he was younger. Maybe he didn't remember. Trying to be strong like a certain boss of mine, I'd turned off my phone and buried it under my pillow. I didn't take it out again, but I guess I couldn't be that proud of myself, considering I fell asleep the next minute.
When I descended the stairs a few hours later, soft giggles and eager voices floated from the living room, and I padded to the doorway, not wanting to interrupt whatever was going on. Plaids were hung from the chairs to the couch, creating a tent-like hideaway, bright light from within outlining the distorted silhouettes of Elizabeth and Camille. Ari guarded the entrance, fairy wand in hand, and Manon was bent over a tablet, scrolling through a playlist. She selected a song, and it immediately played over the boxes, one of her favorites from BTS.
Part of me wanted to smile, only the other part ached, so I didn't. I recalled plenty of days like this, my brothers and sister running around the table, constantly bumping into the flimsy walls and tripping over each other's shoes, the trailer shaking under the weight of all of us. Those had seemed like the best times of my life for so long, and I'd craved to have something like that again— a real family.
So much so, that it seemed I'd forgotten about Ma's absences, my brothers' attempts to bash each other's heads in as they fought over the remote, my sister's and her friend's mean remarks about my limping and frizzy hair. Ratting each other out to earn our stepdad's favor, Uncle Ray incredibly kind but rarely sober, no quiet place to do your homework. It had never been perfect, which is why I didn't blame Kenny or any of the others for turning out like they did, but I'd always believed it'd been good.
Then I saw this and thought of the past weeks, and it came to me that maybe, my standards were depressingly low.
Ari was the first to spot me. They jumped up in the air, stretching so wide I was surprised their pants didn't tear, and hopped towards me like a rabbit. "There you are, sleepyhead!" they called out, tugging at my arm. "Have you seen our castle?" They pointed at where one of the plaids was attached to a wall sconce. "I pinned the corner of that blanket all the way up there."
Suddenly, I missed my brothers and sister so, so much.
The tent flap was pushed aside, and Elizabeth's head emerged, giving me a hesitant smile. "You look much better than this morning," she said, scanning me from head to toe. Not sure what was more appealing about sweatpants than bathrobes, but she didn't do false compliments. "See? Staying home was the right choice."
It hadn't been much of a choice, not when Kenny only needed my money and not me. Not when he was mad at me for not rolling over and bringing it to him like a faithful dog. I rubbed the side of my face, avoiding her eyes, much too pretty and bright for the way I was feeling. "Yeah," I said, retreating into the hallway. "Have fun, guys." I tried for a smile; it felt stiff and too wide to be convincing. "I'm just gonna..."
"No!" Cami crawled out of the tent, managing to trip over her Elsa dress. Her hair was braided in an intricate pattern, a few loose curls bouncing down her forehead, and her cheeks were apple red. "You have to stay! We're doing girls' and enbies' day, and you're a girl." She said it like that would be the end of it, and my heart ached again, only for a whole different reason.
I looked at Elizabeth, waiting for her to remind them Saturday was my day off, like she usually did. Until now, I'd always ignored her, babbling about not having plans anyway. This time, though, I needed the excuse, and she didn't supply it, just stared at me with her eyebrows slightly raised — she looked so relaxed, with her hair in a messy ponytail and her shoulders slumped, the rest of her hidden from sight.
"What do you think of my make-up?" Manon had walked up to me, chin up, turning her head to the left and the right to show me the glittery purple eyeshadow and coordinated lipstick. She was wearing a royal blue dress that reached her ankles, much too wide in some places; obviously, it belonged to her mother.
What was it with me and the urge to cry today? With only a few weeks to go until Christmas, I was usually one small ball of restless energy, driving everybody crazy with horrendously sung renditions of "All I Want for Christmas Is You" and "Santa Baby". This wasn't the first time Kenny had acted like a jerk, so there was no reason this should be affecting me any more than all those other times. Sure, it would've been nice if my brothers asked me about my life for once, but they'd never been socially savvy— really, it was my own fault for suddenly setting expectations I knew they couldn't meet.
I did my best to marvel at Manon's make-up, hoping they couldn't hear I was close to tears. Then, a tiny hand patted my foot, and when I looked down, I was met with Cami and her dazzling gap-toothed smile, reaching for me from her position on the floor. "You can come into the castle if you want," she said. I didn't hesitate, desperate to take part in this wholesome scene, even if I didn't really belong.
The tent was cozy, littered with pillows from all over the house. A lamp was placed on an empty cardboard box in the middle. Elizabeth sat cross-legged beside it, surrounded by her whole supply of make-up: endless shades of eyeshadow, a vast array of eye pencils, tubes of lipstick in bold red and subtle beige-pink, and all different kinds of brushes and ointments I wouldn't know what to do with. Judging by the state of her face, she'd been experimenting: her make-up was heavy and dark, a stark contrast with her usual subtle elegance.
She smiled at me, again, touching my knee for a moment, as if she knew I needed it. I didn't smile back; I couldn't. She didn't seem to be bothered by it. "Have you picked a color yet, Cami?" she asked, and I was grateful, because the last thing I wanted was to start wailing in front of all of them. Talking about embarrassing... Cami hovered over the palettes, discussing each option in-depth, and I just sat there and watched — all I could think of was Ma, and how maybe her teaching us how to kindle a bonfire one Saturday morning wasn't enough to compensate for all the evenings she'd spend at the bar.
Elizabeth placed a hand on Cami's cheek, steadying her, lips parted and brows arched while she applied the silvery blue to pale eyelids. Apparently, it tickled, and our girl giggled with each stroke, Elizabeth never losing concentration. Her calm, steady movements soothed something in me, and before long, I'd stopped fretting over irrational brothers and started to marvel at her handiwork. The other two joined us, and I found myself laughing again, squished between Ari and Cami in a tent that was absolutely not meant to hold so many of us.
Manon was side to side with her mother, and it was wonderful to see them like that, no tension at all on a day like today. "Mom," she said then, fumbling with the fabric of the dress. "Why did you never really do stuff like this before?"
Elizabeth dropped her hand, the other going to her hair, tugging at a tangle in her ponytail. Manon would've never asked a question like that when I first met them, and she would've deflected, finding an escape route out of the conversation. She'd promised to be more open, though, after the truth about Connery had come out. So, she took a deep breath and continued trying to apply mascara onto Cami's lashes. "When I was sixteen," she said, tipping Cami's head back, "certain people started telling me to act my age and that nobody would take me seriously if I didn't, and after a while, I... believed them. It's not easy to unlearn ideas like those." There was enough hesitance in her suddenly rigid shoulders to tell me it'd been Connery and company, and a wave of anger rolled through my body. Almost every girl probably had had a similar experience at some point, though something in me was sure hers had been extreme.
"I am never going to act my age," Ari said, tracing patterns on the plaid above them. "Acting like an adult is boring. When I'm eighteen, I'm going to buy a boat and make a flag and sail around the whole world." They spread their arms, accidentally bumping me in the head.
Manon regarded her mom, chewing on her tongue. Neither of us was used to Elizabeth being honest so easily, and it probably took her off guard. "Dev's sister said something like that to me," she said, "when we were pretending to be at Hogwarts. She called us stupid and childish."
Not long ago, Elizabeth would've turned to me, waiting to hear whatever wisdom I had to share on the topic, as if she wasn't perfectly capable of handling it herself. "You are a child," she said this time, and I saw her flex the fingers of her other hand, "and there is nothing wrong with that. You're supposed to play when you're nine, love."
Cami worried her bottom lip. "What about when you're ten?"
Elizabeth chuckled, stroking her youngest daughter's hair. Our gazes met, and there was a softness in hers that melted me on the inside. "Let me tell you a secret," I said, gesturing for Cami to get closer. She did, immediately, placing a warm hand on my knee, and at least, there was someone who needed me, someone who wanted me there with all her heart and didn't hesitate to show it. I leaned over and whispered: "You can always play, no matter how old you are. Even if you're ninety-nine and as wrinkled as a prune."
Again, there was a lot of giggling, and it was even better from the inside, sharing in the joy of this carefree afternoon, and it did feel like I had that mythical family I'd always longed for.
"So," Cami said, "do you and mommy sometimes play together too?"
Leave it to Cami to induce a gay panic attack. Elizabeth smirked, and it took everything in me not to shift my attention to the slope of her V-neck — not in front of the kids, not — in — front — of — these — rascals. "Mmm," she murmured, and was it deliberate that she reached past me to pick up some lip gloss, treating me to the scent of her and her spicy shampoo, "no, we don't. Jessie has never asked me to."
She knew very well what she was doing — there was no doubt, not with the way her shoulder grazed mine, entirely unnecessary. Something was stuck in my throat, and in a flash, the air in our little hideaway burned tropically hot. A good thing it wasn't the two of us right now, or I would've done something way more foolish than inviting myself out on a boat.
"Oh," Cami said. Then, her face lit up. "You should ask mommy, Jessie. I bet you'd have loads of fun!"
"Oh, I know." It was out before I could help it, and really, I shouldn't be thinking about stuff like this around an innocent little pumpkin like Cami, but in all fairness, it was Liz who'd started this, so, yeah. I scratched my hair, pretending to be interested in the bottles of nail polish, and accidentally knocked a few of them over.
"Would you like me to do you?"
"What?" I looked up so fast I managed to send the other two flying as well. This, I must've misheard, because otherwise, what was she doing?
There was nothing in her expression that betrayed any sign of mischief, and it confused the crap out of me. "Make-up."
The kids were activated at those words, bouncing in place amidst excited screeches. My stomach flipped. Elizabeth. Most beautiful woman in town. Probably in the whole universe, subjectively speaking. Staring at my face. "Uh," I said, shuffling in place to find a more comfortable position, "nah, thanks. That stuff just looks laughable on me."
Elizabeth, however, was already clearing the space between us, moving nearer so her knees were pressed against mine. Only now did I notice she was barefoot, her nails painted sloppily in the colors of the rainbow. Had she chosen them, or was that the kids' doing?
"Uh," I said again, when the three of them started debating if I should get pink or yellow eyeshadow, "I'm not kidding, guys. Liz, you are gorgeous, with or without make-up, but on me—" I shuddered, thinking back to my teenage self, saving up for red lipstick and a waterproof eye pencil, only to scrub it right off when I saw myself in the mirror and realized I looked like an overworked clown.
Elizabeth frowned momentarily, glancing me up and down, then picked up a bottle of foundation and held it next to me. "Nonsense," she said, switching it for a slightly darker one. "You just need to find the right colors." She opened up the top, and I was too surprised to protest when she drew a line along my cheekbone. "I'll keep the foundation light, so it won't cover up your freckles."
"Isn't that the point of foundation?" I fidgeted with the string of my sweatpants. Fifteen-year-old me would be squealing if she'd known that in the future, one of the popular girls was finally showing her the ropes and including her in the pretty girl activities.
"Yes, normally," she said, spreading the stuff with a sponge, "but I like your freckles."
It took everything in me to keep still, with her so close and practically studying my features. The kids were staring at me open-mouthed, like something magical was happening. My stomach fluttered even more aggressively than when I'd been drunk twelve hours before, and I wished I would've had the wits to eat something first. My palms were sweaty, and I wiped them on my pants, unintentionally pulling back when Elizabeth traced her thumb down my cheek. Holy shit, I was not going to survive this situation.
She scowled at me. "Will you relax? It's just make-up. I'm not going to permanently alter your face."
Weirdly, that helped to calm down the nerves. "It's just... awkward. With all of you gawking at me."
"Would it help if we left?" Miraculously, it was Ari who asked, and I would've been taken aback if it wasn't for the glint in their eyes — it seemed that someone had not forgotten about the drawing they made. I didn't know how to feel about it. Before I could even formulate an answer, they were ushering their sisters out of the castle, telling them they should all get something to drink in the kitchen.
Which meant I was alone in a cozy tent with Elizabeth. Who was continuing whatever she was doing with that concentrated determination of her.
I was screwed.
Featherlight touches on my cheek, gentle and unwavering. I could see the slight difference in the curl at the edges of her eyeliner, the barely visible dent in her jaw, maybe a scar, the laughter lines around her eyes. My heart was beating in my throat, skipping every now and then, and oh damn, why did she have to smell this good?
She unscrewed the cap off the mascara tube, then looked up, beautiful dark brown stuck on me, pausing for no reason at all. My breath caught in my throat. Her lips, though bare, had never looked more inviting, and crap, the kids were going to have to storm in and break this up, or all would go to hell. "Did you mean it?" she asked then, so quietly she didn't sound like herself.
"What?"
I couldn't form any coherent thoughts apart from wanting to reach out and touch her hair, and I needed the rest of my brain to stop me from doing exactly that.
She toyed with the drop earring, gaze breaking away, and for a second, I was able to inhale oxygen again. That was, until she looked back up. "This morning. Did you mean it?" There was a quiet sort of wonder behind the question.
I stared. She could not be referring to my slip-up, because everyone had forgotten about that by now, right, and she hadn't even commented on it in the moment itself.
"Never mind," she muttered, focusing entirely too intensely on the bottle she was holding, "it's nothing."
"Of course, I meant it." I said it so quickly I nearly tripped over my own tongue. I needed to move, do something, anything, if only rub my sweaty palms on my pants, only it seemed all my energy went into my stomach's latest performance.
Though my subconscious had whispered that that was the answer she'd been hoping for, it took a plummeting dive when she turned away, rummaging around between a pile of cases. I was ready to correct myself, make a joke out of it, save whatever could still be salvaged — but she faced me again, holding out her hand, and every single fear was chased away.
A pack of pink bubblegum, promising extra long-lasting flavor.
"I've been saving this for some time," she said, a blush spreading up her cheeks. "It's stupid—"
I placed my hand on top of hers, cutting her off, under the guise of accepting the offer of friendship, only I lingered, and I couldn't even convince myself that was what I was doing. My skin tingled where it met hers, still as calloused as I remembered. "It's not," I said, and I was surprised at how unaffected my voice sounded, with the way my heart was pounding. "I don't have any Skittles on me, though."
She laughed, a soft one that sent my stomach into a tidal wave. "You can make it up to me later."
"Deal."
It wasn't fair. She couldn't be making a huge declaration of friendship like this and expect me to sit back and enjoy it. Not with that lock of hair falling down the side of her face, begging for me to do something about it. So, obviously, I broke, moving forward to tuck it behind her ear, and oh, when did she get this close?
Out of nowhere, soft lips pressed a lingering kiss right next to my mouth.
For a second, I froze in complete terror. What had I done? How many times did I have to tell myself I could not go around acting out my most treasured fantasies, and —
I hadn't.
Holy shit.
"I—" I had no idea what I was going to say, only that it might've been a question, because what was that, and was that a typical best friend thing to do? All my best friends had usually been male or had fulfilled the role of girlfriend as well, so I wasn't entirely sure about the rules, but holy, holy shit, if my best friend liked to kiss me there, well, I wasn't going to object to it.
She watched me silently, still way too close, waiting for me to say something —
"What are you doing in there?" Ari's voice interrupted, and I startled heavily, pulling back in time to see them snatching back the plaid to peer inside. "Not playing kissy-face, are you?"
I felt myself burn red-hot.
"Eww, Ari, don't be gross!" Manon appeared beside them, eyes trained on me. "Mom, I think you put on a little too much blush. She looks like a tomato."
I covered my cheeks, the pack of gum slipping down my knee to the floor. With Elizabeth around and the memory of that kiss etched into my mind, I was pretty sure I was never going to need any blush ever again.