I have decided to give Alice a pet dog, so please ignore the sudden appearance of Calliope. When I finish and edit it, I'll add her to earlier chapters.
Hope you enjoy!
"I never realized how much it hurts to punch someone" Ivy complained as she flexed her bruised fist. She winced.
B's head appeared over the kitchen island, his hands wrapped around a plastic bag of frozen broccoli. "I mean you basically did the equivalent of stubbing your toe." He gave a dismissive shrug like that was explanation enough.
Ivy's hand froze in mid-grasp for the vegetables. Her eyebrow nearly disappeared in her hairline as she stared quizzically at B. "How is punching someone in the face the same as stubbing your toe?"
"Think about it: in both situations, you had a body part slam really hard into something. The only difference in this case is you willingly did it."
Flinching as the frozen bag soothed her knuckles, Ivy rapidly blinked at B with disbelief etched across her face.
"What?" B's eyes grew into wide saucers.
Ivy shook her head. "You have such a weird way of thinking about things."
"You say 'weird,' I say 'normal.' All just a matter of perspective." B gave Ivy a flirtatious wink before turning around to study the inside of the fridge. A large grin broke across his face when he pulled out a large Tupperware container with a plastic bag stacked on top of it. Like an adventurer returning with his spoils from a treasure hunt, B spread out his discovery of food on the counter. As B gathered up a plate, Ivy had the opportunity to study what Ivy could only assume were leftovers. Inside the clear baggy she could see the knotted mess of cooked spaghetti, and based on the color of the mixture Ivy surmised the Tupperware to be filled with spaghetti sauce and meatballs.
Having successfully wiggled out a collection of pasta onto his plate, B peeled back the plastic lid on the sauce. Although the food was at least a day old, Ivy still felt her mouth salivate at the smell of the homemade pasta. Ivy's eyes hungrily followed B's hand as he spooned a heaping of meatballs and pasta sauce on top. Licking the residual sauce off the spoon, B held it in his mouth as he carried his loaded plate to the microwave. The beep of each button rang in the kitchen.
"BRAXTON CHARLES WITHERBY YOU BETTER NOT BE RUINING YOUR APPETITE FOR DINNER!"
Like a genie springing from a bottle, Alice Witherby suddenly appeared in the kitchen, her arms crossed in stern disapproval. Caught in the act, B slapped his back across the microwave, his hands splayed out to cover the most possible. When B looked down, Alice's dog, Calliope, promptly sat at his feet, guarding her owner's prisoner. Alice strode up to B, her eyebrow raised in question as she stood before him "Do I hear you cooking something in that microwave right now?"
B nervously, but also with a playful air of mischief, dodged his mother's eye contact as he looked everywhere but at her. "Not at all," he said with poorly feigned innocence. If he hadn't sounded guilty enough, the microwave immediately rang with a resounding BEEP. With each reiteration, B's face flinched with confirmation of his lie.
Softly nudging B away from the microwave, Alice pulled open its door. A gasp of utter shock escaped her lips as she took in the mountain of spaghetti and meatballs piled onto the plate inside. When she turned to face B, Ivy could see the whites of Alice's eyes encasing her irises. Her mouth hung openly agape as she stared flabbergasted at B.
When she broke from her dumbfounded shock, Alice gave a quick flick of her wrist as she studied her watch. "Braxton, it's almost 4:30! I was just about to start cooking dinner now. By the time you eat all of that you're not going to have any room for dinner" she scolded.
B's eyes dashed between his authoritative mother and the quickly cooling food, its mouth-watering scent wafting throughout the room. With the eagerness of a bomb defuser, B spoke, his index finger pointing in the air. "One, you know I am always hungry so you never have to worry about me ruining my appetite. He flicked up a second finger. "Two, by your logic, the sooner I eat all that, the longer my body will have to digest it." Promptly holding up a third finger B continued "And three, it's already heated up, so at this point it is just a waste of food for me not to eat it." Punctuating his claim with the smallest of pouts, he gave his mother an imploring look.
Sighing with submission, Alice stepped back from the microwave as she motioned for B to take it. With the speed of a house pet at dinner time, he launched for the plate and rapidly inhaled the meal.
Her appetite weaning after seeing B's ravenous display, Ivy glanced toward Mrs. Witherby. Despite losing the battle with her son, Ivy could see the grin tugging at the side of Alice's lips. A sense of pride quietly radiated from her as she shook her head. When Alice caught Ivy looking at her, her hidden smirk broke into a stunning smile. It was a smile that exuded the love she felt for those around her. For a brief moment, Ivy allowed herself to bask in that love and pretend she was the recipient of its affection.
Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived for Ivy, for the smile was quickly wiped from Alice's face when her gaze dropped to the now semi-frozen bag of vegetables resting on Ivy's fist. "Oh, Ivy!" What happened?" Like a knee-jerk reaction, B's mother instantly began to faun over Ivy's injury. Removing the makeshift icepack, Alice noticed the telltale redness along Ivy's knuckles. With furrowed brows, Alice looked into Ivy's eyes. "Who did you punch?"
Ivy snatched her hand back with fright. As nice as Mrs. Witherby seemed, Ivy doubted she'd approve of Ivy punching someone, even if it was in defense of her son. Ivy's brain went into overdrive as she began to catastrophize the situation before her. First, she'd get kicked out of their house. Then, she'd get kicked out of her own house because she was technically still a minor. Then, she'd become homeless, or worse stuck in some facility just like her dad. Even when you are given the easiest way to exist, you still find a way to fuck it up. This is why you can't have a happy life. You ruin everything you touch. You're just a waste of space. A waste of–
Ivy was ripped free from her mental assault when she felt a set of delicate fingers grasp her shoulder. When she looked up she discovered Alice's caring gaze. Tentatively, B's mother began to soothingly rub Ivy's arm. "I'm not upset, honey. I just want to know you're okay." To prove her point, Alice cautiously reached for Ivy's bruised hand and brought it up to her inquisitive stare. Lightly grazing her fingers over each knuckle, Mrs. Witherby studied Ivy's face for a reaction. Frozen in place by this foreign experience, Ivy remained stoic. "Good news is it doesn't seem like you broke it. You probably just bruised it."
Alice carefully placed Ivy's hand onto the granite counter, before making her way to the refrigerator. Pulling out an actual ice pack, she wrapped it in one of the various hand towels hanging from the oven handle. With the grace of a mother who's played the role of nurse in her household frequently, Alice gently placed her creation on Ivy's flattened hand. Unlike the frozen vegetables, which numbed the pain at the cost of a stinging cold, the cold from the ice pack slowly leaked through the towel to Ivy's skin.
"How's that?"
Ivy was surprised to discover that her hand was already feeling fifty percent better than it did when she first arrived. It could have been simply due to the passing of time, but under Alice's attentive mothering Ivy couldn't deny the effect of a mother's healing touch.
Struggling to find her voice, Ivy quietly said, "Yes. Thank you."
Taking a seat next to Ivy, Alice straightened herself in her chair like she was shedding the role of nurse, and preparing herself for the next. "Now, who did you punch?"
Shamefully, Ivy looked down at the floor as she mumbled "Zoey Smith."
Alice's face retained the nonjudgemental calm of a therapist. "Do you want to tell me why you punched her?" Although she knew Mrs. Witherby would not push Ivy to divulge more than she felt comfortable, Ivy felt an uncontrollable longing to tell Alice everything. With an explosive urgency, she began to verbally vomit all over B's mother.
"I punched her because she was an asshole to B when he was just there defending me. And he was only defending me because Zoey and her stupid fuckwad of a boyfriend, Elijah made up this rumor that I slept with him at the party on Friday, when I didn't. And now everyone at school keeps whispering about how I'm this huge slut, and I'm just sleeping my way around so I don't have to sleep on the streets." Ivy rapidly sucked in air as she finished her story. She could feel a new wave of anxiety bubbling in her chest.
Before it was allowed to fully take shape, Ivy's anxiety was again thwarted by Alice's touch. Holding Ivy's uninjured hand in both of hers, B's mother thoughtfully mulled over Ivy's story. Studying Alice's face, Ivy felt like a hero right before she receives her life-altering prophecy. With bated breath, Ivy waited for the sage wisdom that awaited her.
After several minutes passed, Alice finally spoke. "Although I do not approve of punching someone, nor do I condone you doing it in the future," Alice briefly paused, "I do approve of you not only sticking up for yourself but for my son along the way." She stopped again as she pondered her words. "As for the rumors going around school, I wish telling you the whole 'sticks and stones' nonsense would solve your problems, but I know it won't. Unfortunately, words can be some of the most painful things, and people will throw these weapons at you without a single concern for the damage they may inflict. And while you can't control what others do, you do have control over yourself and your actions."
Ivy's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't think I understand. How can I be in control over my actions, when they are making up stuff about me? It's literally out of my control."
Alice pursed her lips in contemplation before she replied. "Think of it this way; who's telling the truth? Elijah or you?"
"Me!" Ivy yelped.
"Does Elijah lying about what happened change the truth?"
Ivy hesitated and she considered the question. "I guess not. But everyone believes him over me."
"But does everyone believing him change what happened?"
"Nooo" Ivy drew out, "but I still don't see your point."
"No matter what people think or say about you, the only thing that matters is what you think about yourself. Take for example this towel." Alice motioned to the handtowel holding the ice pack. "What color is it?"
Ivy continued to crease her face with skepticism. "It's blue," she answered.
"Now, what if I told you that towel was red."
"I'd say you were wrong."
"And why is that?"
"Because it's clearly blue."
"Exactly, and my saying it's red doesn't in any way change that it is blue. I could tell every single person who walks into this house and sees that towel that it is red, but that still won't change the fact that it is blue." Alice paused, giving her metaphor the time to sink it. "Words are a powerful thing, but no word is strong enough to rewrite the past. Yes, you cannot control what others will say about you, but you can control how their words affect you. Just like with the towel, their words do not change what happened at that party. You know the truth, and as long as you hold on to that, no one's words can hurt you."
Alice's words sounded true to Ivy, but it didn't change the fact that Ivy still felt the invisible wounds from the day. She had hoped B's mother would have the magic answer to her problems. A solution that would immediately heal the verbal lacerations. Instead, all she had was some wise words without any direction. Ivy sounded defeated when she spoke, "But what do I do when the words have already hurt me?"
All of Alice's timid displays of concern for Ivy were thrown away as she engulfed Ivy in an all-consuming hug. Nuzzled into her soft shoulder, Ivy felt the calming strokes of Alice's finger's brushing through her hair. Ivy didn't realize she was crying until she heard the dulcet tones of B's mother. "It's okay, honey. It will hurt for a little while, but while it does you can always come to me."
Seconds, minutes, or even hours could have passed while Ivy gushed a neverending geyser of tears. It wasn't until Ivy's crying had completely ceased that Alice gave her a large squeeze before releasing Ivy from her hold. Looking up at Alice, Ivy couldn't ignore the wave of maternal love that wafted off of her. As Ivy wiped at her puffy eyes, Alice withdrew a box of tissues from behind her. Wordlessly handing them over to Ivy, she removed the wrapped ice pack from Ivy's hand.
It wasn't until Ivy had thrown out her collection of snotty tissue that Mrs. Witherby spoke, " I think B is up in his room, if you want to go tell him dinner should be ready in a half hour." Suddenly Ivy became aware of B's absence in the room. She was grateful her moment with Alice had not been a public showing.
As Ivy watched B's mother begin to make dinner, she struggled to find the words to express her gratitude. In the end, all she could come up with was a meek "thank you."
"Anytime." Alice gave Ivy a small smile that expressed she understood the depth of Ivy's thanks. "Now, go find that boy before he eats anything else." Waving Ivy away with her hands, Alice ushered her out of the kitchen, Calliope boldly following in her wake. With a final yip from the fluffy white dog, Alice returned to her cooking and Ivy began her trek to B's bedroom.