a/n: Dedicated to @chillwave for following and voting and sticking with the story even when I take forever to update. Thank you!
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I stopped outside Julie's door a few days later. Since Christmas we'd been nicer to each other. Or maybe even since the beginning of December. Maybe it had mostly been me being nicer and it had made her nicer too. I hesitated. My reason for the visit was to find out what she thought of the whole Tim business. I hadn't really asked her. It hadn't actually even crossed my mind to ask her. Before now. I knocked lightly on her door and was met by a high-pitched 'hmm', which I interpreted as 'please enter'.
Julie was sitting by her desk, her face focused as she looked up. "What do you want?" she said, turning back to her whatever she was doing. Not in a completely unfriendly way though.
"Just checking in," I shrugged, wading through some piles of brightly colored clothes and sitting down on her bed uninvited. That also was piled high, but with pillows. Girls + pillows = love apparently. A string of multicolored lights above it along with pictures and posters of teen celebs attractive in that obvious way. Pouty and chiseled and perfectly coiffed. But there was still her cuddly toys sitting like royalty on top of the pillow mountain. I pulled a pink heart shaped pillow onto my lap and picked at the fake fur trying to avoid too obvious fidgeting.
"Did mom talk to you about Tim moving in or whatever?"
"Maybe she did," Julie shrugged.
"And how do you feel about that?" I asked, feeling way too much like a therapist. Like my own therapist.
Julie shrugged carefully again. "That's ok I guess." She glanced at me over her shoulder. "He was the one who convinced mom to give you the computer you know."
I raised my eyebrows. "No, I didn't know."
"Yeah, I heard them talking about it, and you know mom was like 'no but I'm not sure, the infinite dangers of internet', you know, and he was like 'no, but you must let go of that, you can't watch over him forever, show that you trust him'. So I mean, he seems nice to me. And she seems happier now," she shot me a pointed look and yeah, maybe that haven't crossed my mind either.
Julie turned back and I skimmed my fingers over the pillow fur, contemplating what she'd told me. He had actually never interfered much, beyond acting like a silent support next to my mom sometimes. But if you were with someone, and they had kids, you were probably going to get involved, whether you liked it or not. Ugh.My mom must have talked about all my issues with him until his ears were about to fall off. So he did have every reason to detest me. Maybe I should actually give him a chance. The thought made me cringe. Maybe I'd say 'Hi' to him in the mornings from now on. Start with that.
"Maybe you're right," I muttered, and saw the corner of Julie's mouth curve into a smug smile. The little brat.
"What are you doing?" I asked. She had continued her little DYI, a sharp smell of nail polish around her, so the answer should have been obvious, except she was holding a chubby little handle, not a brush, that she seemed to press against her fingers.
"I'm stamping my nails," was the not very self-explanatory answer.
"What?" I got up and rounded the bed to stand next to her. It did look like a little stamp, the thing she held in her hand, some metal stencils of itty-bitty stars and hearts on her desk. And a mess of open polish bottles and stained q-tips.
"I borrowed it from Stacie, isn't it cool? See, this hand is already done," She proudly displayed her left hand, pink nails with silver stars, so tiny they were practically invisible to the naked eye.
"Very cool." It was a little bit a too elaborate an effort to just be for a movie night. "Are you doing something new year's?"
She nodded enthusiastically. "We're going to Hayley's." Hayley who?
"And mom's ok with that?" I asked suspiciously.
"Duh, of course. Her parents will be there, no bad stuff, I'll have my phone with me, "She smiled adoringly at the already blinged out thing residing on its own little pillow, recharging. "I don't have to be home until 12.45." She focused again, pressing the stamp against her index nail. "What are you doing?"
I sat down on her bed again, reclaiming the fluffy heart. "I'm going to William Bradford, he's hosting some kind of New Year Dinner."
Julie frowned. "Margret Bradford's in my year, kinda stuck up."
"Will's ok. But yeah."
"Sounds kinda boring. Like a grown-up thing. Like they're going to talk like" She searched her mind for something only adults would talk about "Like mortgage. Do you even know the people that are going, except for Lisa?"
"Not really. Except Allen."
Julie smirked, and blew carefully on her not quite dry nails. "Oh, Allen."
"What do you mean 'oh Allen'?"
"Nothing." A knowing little look on her face.
"Say!" I demanded. She shook her head. Annoying.
"Tell me, or I'll smudge your nails and you'll have to redo all of it."
Julie quickly hid her hands behind her back, appalled. "Don't!"
A few seconds where we just glared at each other. A silent power struggle. "What. Did. You. Mean. ?" I asked again, punctuating each word. Julie sighed and pursed her lips, surrendering.
"Nothing. Except he's got like a huge crush on you."
"What? No he hasn't!" I laughed, even as my insides pinched painfully. That was the stupidest thing ever.
"Eh, yes he does. The way he looks at you like, the way he looked at you during dinner the other week, like," She made her eyes big and yearning, fluttered her lashes. "And when you looked at him he'd be like normal," She swooshed a hand in front of her, making her face plain.
"No, he doesn't!" I snorted, "I've never seen him look at me like that." The thought of Allen fluttering his semi-transparent lashes at anyone was fucking hilarious.
Julie seemed a little offended that I didn't agree with her this time. "Don't you listen? Not when you were looking! But maybe it's just a boy crush then, but there's something." She'd slowly retracted her both hands from behind her back and was now carefully placing them on her desk again. Examining the shiny surfaces for scratches.
"A boy crush?" I repeated disbelievingly.
She sighed. "Like a crush on someone of the same gender that you're not attracted to, like I could say I have a girl crush on like, Miley Cyrus, which I don't! And that doesn't mean that I'm, you know, in love with her just that I think she's amazing, which I really don't!"
"Who's Miley Cyrus?" I smirked.
Julie glanced at me condescendingly. "One can kinda tell you don't use internet much."
"I actually do sometimes, like to find new music-"
"She is a pop star!" Julie interrupted.
"I don't like pop stars."
"Ugh, I don't like pop stars!" She whined scrunching up her face. "Can't see why anyone would crush on you ever, you're such a loser!"
"For your information, I'm unofficially one of the hottest guys in Oakland High." It sounded stupid even to my own ears, and Julie snorted with laughter. "Eh, in your dreams maybe." She gave me a scrutinizing once over. "You could be kinda cute, if you cut your hair. And get rid of the lip ring, I mean, it's so immature."
"I've had it since I was fourteen," I toyed with it with my tongue.
"Eh duh, that's what I mean," Julie replied, and blew on her nails again. Apparently forgetting she'd just reached that age of maturity herself.
"Well, thanks for the fashion advice," I said evenly, getting up. Tossing the pillow back onto the mountain. Knocking a stuffed rabbit unconscious.
"You need it. What are you even going to wear to this dinner at the Bradford's?"
"Dunno, this?" I motioned to my everyday jeans and hoodie.
Julie rolled her eyes. "They live in the Hills, c'mon, go buy yourself a shirt or something."
I couldn't help laughing. "So I should buy a shirt, loose the piercing and get a haircut and then what? Join the football team?"
"Well, I'd rather have my brother the football player than my brother the weirdo." I could tell by her face that she regretted it as she said it. But it still hurt. Stupid fucking feelings.
"I didn't mean that." She added quietly, suddenly looking at me seriously. Suddenly looking way older than her years. "But I'm not like you."
"I know," I nodded, "and that's good." I jammed my hands into my jean pockets, staring numbly at the polish bottles on her desk. Waiting for the inevitable.
"I saw you on the floor with auntie, you know." Julie started tentatively. "And I thought you were dead, because it looked like all the blood that could fit into a person was on the floor. Why'd you do it?"
"I don't know. I was just hurting so bad inside." My standard answer. And Julie was the kind of person not having it.
"But we were all hurting, like mom and me too, we didn't do that. And when you did it, it wasn't like anyone felt any better. I mean, I could have been damaged for life seeing you like that, did you ever think about that? About us?"
There was no accusation in her voice, just resignation. Which was worse in a way.
"No, I didn't, I don't know. I can't explain it Ljyba, I was in such a bad place." Julie pursed her lips, but thankfully didn't push it. And still she was right. I hadn't thought about them. Hadn't been able too. Hadn't been able to think at all.
"You're better now." She stated instead, still looking at me with that older than her years gaze. I nodded.
"I used to think that you would do it again, and I mean, what would happened if you died. Then it would be just me and mom left, and I would have to look after her."
I blinked. Desperately. Doubting Julie would like much her brother the cry baby either. And like it was all too much Julie turned back to her stencils, unscrewing the cap of the silver nail polish.
"That's why I like Tim I mean," she said in a lighter tone, "because he looks after mom, and you found yourself a girlfriend to look after you, obviously, because I can tell that your happier now too."
"You then?" I asked softly.
"I look after myself!" Julie snapped, looking up at me like I'd offended her. "I'd never cut myself like that, no matter how bad things were. I'm not like you," she stated full of assertiveness. Which would have been seriously obnoxious, had it been anyone else but my sister. I honestly didn't want her to be like me. Didn't want her to feel the way I felt sometimes.
"That's great." I walked up to stand behind her, brushing my hand over her long dark hair, currently uncurled. Leaned my chin on her head. Our eyes meeting in the mirror above her desk. "You do look like me though."
"That's ok. As I said you could be cute." We smiled at each other. Me and my baby sister. My beautiful and strong-willed baby sister.
"You already are," I reached down pinching her enviably tiny nose.
Julie squirmed. "Duh, of course. Now get out. I have three nails left to paint."
Sitting down in my own room, leaning my head against the mattress it hit me that I might have reconnected with my sister. This little girl who'd hovered in the back while me and mum had been fighting it out, and now she wasn't a little girl anymore. But like a proper person. Yeah, sure an annoying brat most of the time, but still. My beautiful and strong baby sister. I smiled to myself picking up my phone, debating on whether to share Julie's insight on boy crushes with Allen. Away from her smug smile and knowing looks it didn't cause any pinching. Just seemed fucking hilarious. But maybe Allen wouldn't find it funny. And with us always balancing between friendship and the unknown, it was probably best not to risk it. 'Just realized my family's kinda cool' I typed out instead, pressing send. Minutes and hours went by as I listened to Radiohead and installed iTunes onto my unholy and somewhat un-cooperating computer. No buzzing. No beeping. Nothing. Nitjevo. Checking my phone before going to sleep he still hadn't answered.
I got up early the morning after. The house still silent. I tiptoed on thick socks into the kitchen. I'd assumed everyone would still be asleep, but by the kitchen table there was Tim reading the newspaper, eating crisp bread sandwiches with sprouts. Green tea in a mug in front of him. He'd probably been up doing yoga or something. Ugh. To me getting up at 5 in the morning to say hello to the sun was just plain insanity.
"Hi there," he looked up as I entered.
"Hey." Uncomfortable. I got a bowl from the cupboard. Filled it with my usual cereal and soy milk. For a second I contemplated heading into the living room, and eating breakfast in solitude, but that was just way too obnoxious. Even by my standards. So instead I sat down at the opposite end of the table. Pulled another one of the newspapers to my side. More for show than for reading. A safety blanket.
"You up early. Sleep well?"
"Yeah," I nodded wearily. So much conversation. But I would try. Or I would have to. Since silence apparently didn't bother his balanced mind as it did mine. Annoying.
"Did you see your daughter for the holidays?"
Tim nodded. "Yes, it was great. I don't see much of her nowadays, since she decided to move across the country." He smiled through his beard.
"She's in collage, right?" I asked, mouth full of cereal and with one eye on the front page.
"Yes, she studies languages at UCLA." That sounded pretty cool actually.
"Cool. You miss her a lot? I mean, that's really far away..."
Tim gave me an odd look. "You always miss your children, even when they're with you."
"Um, I guess," I shrugged. Man, he was so fucking strange sometimes.
"Yes, I do miss her a lot of course," he said more straight-forwardly. "You miss your dad a lot?"
I felt my jaw tense. It was none of his fucking business. Except maybe it kinda was.
"Honestly, I don't know." I surprised myself by saying. Successfully bypassing the initial gut reaction of telling him to fuck off or just clamming up. Progress. Tim nodded almost solemnly. "I'll never try to be a replacement for your dad, you know that right?
"I know," I said stiffly, looking down on the newspaper.
"I'd just really like it if maybe we could get to know each other a bit better. Because me and Katya, I really think that we will be together for the long haul...so I'd really like it if we could get on. You think we could do that?"
I nodded, even though it sounded suspiciously like he was talking to one of his stray youths. He smiled warmly at me.
A look of embarrassing infatuation flashing by on his face. "Your mom, Katya, she really is the most amazing woman I've ever met."
I suppressed a smile of my own. Couldn't really blame him for thinking that. "Yeah, my mom's awesome." I chewed down the last of my cereal and got up. Hesitating by the sink. I kinda just wanted to leave my spoon and bowl but now I didn't want him to think I was rude. Spoiled on top of everything. "I'll just um.."
"You go." Tim waved a hand dismissively. "I'll take care of it." He unfolded another one of our newspapers.
Putting on my jacket I let out a breath I hadn't been aware I was holding. I was doing great. I was a master conversationalist and actually doing great. I pulled on a scarf and mittens feeling almost fucking giddy. It didn't have to be better tomorrow because it was fine today. A fine day. And the forest would be sunny and still and the air crispy clear and my mind the same. Quiet as my feet walked as seemingly by themselves. It would be a good day. But there was still a tiny pinch as I checked my phone before I let it slide into one of the jacket's pockets. Still no answer.
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a/n: Please remember that Matthew's sister's talking about the pre-wrecking-ball-and-shenanigans Miley, so don't judge her too harshly ;) As always, thanks for reading, and please vote/comment if you like! And get ready for New Year's Eve...