The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

TWENTY THREE

 

There’s a horrendous flutter in my stomach, sloshing around the three cups of coffee I drank this morning to keep myself awake. I stayed up all night, nerves still in shambles from my meeting with Spencer, and anxiety whips through me as I clean the house again for the fifteenth time.

All I thought about were his eyes. The caramel swirling around his chocolate irises as he looked at me with a strange sort of curiosity. Like he doesn’t know that everything we are now is a result of him.

I almost told him. Almost broke down and exposed how weak and messed up I am over it. Because I am hurt. I’m pissed and even worse, my heart still doesn’t know whether to beat or stop when he’s near me.

My eyes flicker across the backyard to the dark house behind mine, and a familiar tightness pulls across my chest before I rip my gaze away.

I can’t allow myself to think too deeply for too long.

Sighing, I fluff the navy pillow one more time, double-checking to make sure everything is perfect.

My aunt, Mina’s flight, is coming in today. Actually… I glance at the stove clock, and my pulse stutters. Shit.

Her flight’s already landed, and since she refused to let me pick her up, her Uber could be here any damn second.

Taking the steps two at a time, I fly up the stairs and into the bathroom. When I look in the mirror, it’s hard not to cringe at my appearance. The shiner my mom gave me last week is now a ghost of a bruise, leaving a tint of green that’s easy enough to cover. A little dry shampoo and a messy bun take care of my hair problem. But the red rim surrounding my eyes will have to be blamed on my contacts if she asks.

But she might not. Why would she? My nerves start to tingle again. What if she does?

I remember when I was young, around seven, and we would video chat, she would ask me about anything and everything.

“You look so pretty. Did you put that yellow bow in your hair?” My aunt’s face fills the small screen, her grin stretching from ear to ear.

I beam my biggest, proudest smile, not even worrying about my missing top tooth. “Yes! I even did the braid, Aunt Mina. I watched a video on it!”

“Ah, mija, you did so well. Muy Buena. ¿Dónde está tu mamá?”

Peering over the iPad, I make sure Dad isn’t anywhere near me. Shrugging, I wipe away the sudden gush of tears, burning my eyes. “Her room. Like always.”

“Do you know where you are yet?”

I shake my head before my father calls from the kitchen that it’s time for bed.

I never understood what she meant when she would ask that. When she first asked me about it, I would always tell her home. But then she would prod with more questions like street names or the name of my school. She even wanted me to describe my neighborhood.

I’ve been looking for you for thirteen years.

It still doesn’t make complete sense, and I feel like I’m putting together a puzzle with only my sense of touch. I can’t see the overall picture, but the pieces are beginning to lock into place.

Tugging the oversized sweater over my head, I turn to the bathroom door just as the bell rings.

She’s here.

With shaking hands, I clutch the stair railing and descend as slowly as possible. The door feels so big in comparison to my hand as I grip the cold metal knob and turn. It swings open with the cold breeze, letting snow flurries dance inside the threshold.

My aunt Mina stands in the middle of the door, wrapped in so many layers, I can’t make out her face, and has a small suitcase by her side. A bubble of nervous laughter spills from my mouth as I take a step back. “Aunt Mina?”

The triple-wrapped figure shakes and moves sluggishly inside. Her voice is muffled, but I’d know it anywhere. “Si, now help your dear old aunt. I’m liable to get frostbite out here!”

I giggle again, wiping my slick hands on my jeans before moving to grab a padded arm. I help her through the foyer and shut the door, then pry the luggage from her frigid grasp. It’s an odd meeting, but it’s much less awkward, which eases my pulse a little.

“It’s not that cold.”

She huffs, using her marshmallow-puffed arms to unwrap her three scarfs. “I have never seen snow my entire life. All these jackets are from the airport store.”

Laughing, the wound muscles in my neck seem to relax. She was always good at weird situations, had a way of taking them and inserting her charismatic charm to pacify even the worst circumstance.

I help her unzip the four types of jackets. Each one shed makes the rush of blood in my ears impossibly loud.

Down jacket.

Parka.

Fleece.

Body Warmer.

When I finally reach the warm body of my aunt, a fire hits the back of my throat.

Her burnt honey eyes are the same as I remember, tucked behind small glasses that frame her heart-shaped face. Her beautiful olive skin is without one wrinkle, except the two little crow’s feet at the corners of those stunning eyes. Her perfect ruby lips stretch into a smile, and when I look back up, I see a trail of tears making a path through the light dusting of her blush.

We both pause, but then, as if not a second of time has passed between us, she grabs me, embracing me in a type of hug I’ve long forgotten. I melt into her, wrapping my arms around her back and squeezing until the muscles in my forearm quiver. The combination of everything that’s happened with Spencer and me, my shitty parents, and my lack of sleep overwhelm me, letting the walls I’ve built crumble on impact. The sobs rip through my body, and I grip her tighter, scared if I let go, she might disappear like everyone else.

Right now, I’m not Lily, nor the captain of the cheer squad, or even the Queen of Emerald Falls. I’m the five-year-old little girl, holding on to her aunt for dear life, so I don’t have to move to the opposite side of the map with people that don’t even love me.

“Shhh, mija. I’m here now.” My aunt’s hand strokes my hair, tucking a loose piece back into my bun.

I’m not sure how long we stand like this. Second, minutes, hours. But when I’m finally able to loosen my hold, my body and mind are spent. My shoulders fall as I back up, and I wrap my arms around my waist, partially embarrassed I’ve just slobber-sobbed on the woman.

She steps forward, closing the gap and placing two tender hands on my shoulders, anchoring me in place. A shiver reverberates down my spine, the intimate touch is something so unfamiliar to me now, my body doesn’t know how to respond.

Mina’s eyes soften, a small grin curling the edges of her lips. “Whatever is going on in that loca head of yours, stop it. I’m here now, and I am not going anywhere.”

I swallow around the knot in my throat, blinking back the wall of tears now clouding my vision, and attempt a nod.

“How about some tea?”

“Sounds great,” I croak, wiping my face raw with the back of my hand.

We move together, walking through the foyer to the open kitchen. She sets her jackets in a pile on the edge of the couch before strolling to the large back sliding door. Her eyes drift to the dark house, and she turns her face, calling over her shoulder. “That little boy still live back there?”

The knot I swallowed earlier plummets to my stomach, making me nauseous. I’d told her about Spencer when I first met him. “Yeah, but he’s not so little anymore.”

She laughs out her nose, turning to climb onto one of the bar stools. “I suppose he isn’t.”

The lightness in her tone suggests she thinks there was more to my comment, but going down that wormhole isn’t on the menu today. Today, I want to find out what happened. Where the hell she’s been and why I’ve been left alone.

“So, how was your flight?” I initiate the small talk, moving around the kitchen to make some tea.

“Mija, why are you nervous?” Her voice is soft and a little timid. It forces me to look over my shoulder at her while I fumble around with the kettle.

“I’m not.” Lie.

Well, not a complete lie. My increased heart rate and trembling knees also prove something I don’t want to admit—I’m scared. No, terrified, really. I have no idea what the hell is about to happen. If she’ll answer all the questions I have. If it will change anything. If it can heal anything.

My aunt folds her hands on the bar, and I catch a glimpse of her fresh white tip manicure. Still no ring. I have no idea how a gem like her hasn’t been whisked away by now. Even when I was young, I saw the way her soul illuminated the world around her, casting its light into every dark crevasse. And she had the personality of your favorite warm drink. One sip, and your whole body swells with happiness.

All this lost time.

An ache stretches across my chest, and the small talk I had planned evaporates.

We stay quiet as I prepare our drinks, and while the silence is welcome, it also shifts my stomach’s little contents.

Finally, I give her a glass and lean against the opposite side of the counter.

She stirs her tea methodically before tapping it against the lip, casting rhythmic clinks in the air. When her warm honey eyes lift to me, she grins sympathetically, sighing as she sits back. “I suppose you have a lot of questions.”

I nod, tracing my finger around the rim of my mug. It’s warm in my hands, and I mentally anchor myself to the sensation.

“Ask me, but know I won’t lie to you, mija. You’re old enough now to know the truth. But first, can I ask you something?”

My eyebrows knit together, but I nod again.

“Where is everyone? Robert, your mom?”

My previously warm fingers start to tingle, and I lean into the counter deeper to keep myself steady. I should lie, but it burns on my tongue. “I don’t know. They haven’t lived here in months.”

Her lips pull into a straight line, and her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, her throat bobs with a swallow, and she clears her throat. “Ask whatever you need to know, mi amor.”

And I do. I ask her everything.

“HOW ARE YOU?” Blaze grips the heel of my foot, squeezing and kneading it through the thin blanket.

I called him after the day with my aunt, and as always, he came. The perfect knight.

My mind is still reeling from the day, and thankfully since it’s Thanksgiving break, so I have time to shift through all the shit I’m still processing. I lean back into my pillow, letting my head thunk lightly against the wall, and stare down the bed at Blaze.

“I’m still not sure. Just a lot to take in.”

“Summary?” His dark brow lifts, his gray eye shimmering under the soft light of my lamp.

I peer out the window and watch the snow tumble around, dancing with other flakes as they make their descent. It’s so graceful, it’s almost like watching an intricate ballet. The whole ensemble is peaceful, lulling me into a sleepy daze.

I’m so tired.

Blaze squeezes my foot lightly, drawing my attention back to him.

A summary. Where would I even start?

“My mom never wanted kids,” I choke out the hardest part. Maybe then it will be easier to say the rest. “She never wanted me.”

He sighs and stands, flipping off the side table light. He scootches me over and slides under the sheet beside me. The warmth of his body soothes the ache a little that’s radiating across my chest.

Blaze leans in close, rubbing my cheek with a calloused finger, and I realize I’m crying. “You don’t have to do this today.”

I sniff, shaking my head. “Can we lay for a bit?”

Even in the dark, I feel his soft smile as he pushes me on my side and curls up behind me, wrapping a strong arm around my waist. Blaze knows better than anyone the pain of having shitty parents. We share that commonality, and I think that’s why we have such a special bond. Somewhere between best friends and siblings, sharing a connection no one our age should have to.

His deep hums vibrate my body, calming my mind, and thrusting me into a comfortable sleep, his words echoing as I fall.

“I’ll sit with you in the dark until you’re ready to find the light.”