Chapter 19 – Cognac Swing

Dreamer

Two Saturdays before the senior prom, Markus showed up for lunch carrying a box. He said it was a graduation gift, but I should open it when I got home.

It was a miracle I managed to mumble my thanks and finish my food throughout lunch. I had to stop myself from shaking my head and slapping my face to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I did have a huge red mark on my arm though because I'd pinched myself hard.

Yep, I was definitely awake and Teen Gaspard gave me an early graduation gift.

I got home, ran upstairs to my room and carefully opened the package. I realized it was a shoebox, but who knew what Markus had placed inside it. Perhaps it was one of his drawings. Or maybe a photo album with his pictures. Or the shirt he was wearing the first time we met.

I opened the box and saw a pair of glittery platform pumps. It had rhinestone embellishments and a strappy caged ankle cuff. It had a round peep toe and a five-inch stiletto. It was chic and glamorous.

Exactly how I hoped to look next to Markus come prom night.

I just needed to learn how to walk in these sky-high heels without falling on my face.

I practiced walking in them every day after school. So far, I was able to stop my knees from buckling and my legs from shaking. Maya was very helpful and even told me to try walking in them while holding a mug of chocolate milk. I saw her point when I spilled half the mug on my shirt the first time I tried.

After a week, I could walk a straight line gracefully. Mom suggested I stand close to a table or a wall at all times. Maya suggested that I should just hold on to Markus that entire night.

I preferred that option.

I was sure a lot of other girls would vie for his attention. If anyone attempted to steal my table/wall/date from me, I would happily step on their foot with these killer stilettos.

I'd given up going down the stairs in heels. I'd just wear them when I was on level ground.

It was the day of the ball and everyone at home was excited to get me ready. Even Yvonne gave me a checklist of things to do. She printed me an article that tackled how to get glowing skin, hydrate my hair and whiten my smile. She also nagged me to pluck my eyebrows and to use a good deodorant. The last one was easy, but I wasn't really sure how to go about the first items in her list.

I showed Mom Yvonne's list and she nodded her head as she read the tasks.

I handed Mom the perming iron. The last time I had tried to curl my hair, I'd singed myself and damaged a section of my hair. It was the first time I considered getting a pixie cut. Yvonne convinced me to get my hair layered instead. It worked. I guessed.

Iris giggled and pointed at the mirror. I looked up and saw Mom had given me volume and waves. Whoa! While I was busy mulling over a self-inflicted disaster, Mom had blow dried, texturized, curled and styled my hair. Gone were my limp, lifeless strands. I had big, bouncy curls tumbling to my shoulders.

"Mom, you're a magician! A wizard even!" I exclaimed.

"Or a witch," Mom grinned at me. I was amazed.

"I'm not yet done. Time for makeup," Mom said. She smiled for a second then looked serious again as she checked her makeup palette. I wouldn't know what to do with all those shades. I could count with one hand how many times I'd worn makeup.

She swiveled my chair so I was facing her. I would see my reflection when Mom was done.

Iris and Maya were clapping their hands after thirty minutes. I didn't wait for Mom to spin my chair. I stood up and excitedly, and a bit nervously, looked at the mirror.

Mom had hidden my dark circles—I got them staying up late at night writing—with a moisturizer then a concealer. Then she'd drawn lines on my face with a foundation stick, blending them with her fingers. She'd applied a cream blush to the apples of my cheeks and a shimmery eye base. She'd then combined a periwinkle liner on my upper lash line and swept a shadow along my lower lash line. She'd finished off with two coats of plum mascara to add definition. I had pale skin, but Mom had given me that sun-kissed look.

I stared at the girl in the mirror. I knew it was me. Version 2.0.

Make that Version 5.0.

I turned to my mom and said, "I take it back. You're not a magician, wizard or witch. You're a miracle worker! How... when did you...?"

I couldn't even finish my question. I was in shock.

Mom handed me my cherry lip balm. She knew I couldn't stand lipstick.

"One of my colleagues showed me how. I'm glad you like it." Then she gazed at me and said, "You look beautiful, Selene. With or without makeup."

Was Mom seriously trying to make me cry? I didn't want to ruin her masterpiece.

"Thanks, Mom," I said and hugged her. I looked at her and noticed her eyes were a bit glassy. "Who else would I take after anyway?"

In truth, I looked more like my dad. I had Dad's dark hair while Mom was blonde like Maya and Iris. I got Dad's green eyes while my sisters inherited Mom's blue ones. Mom was beautiful except that she'd been working too much the past years. She had shadows beneath her eyes and she had lost several pounds. She used to be curvier, a bit on the round side even. Some nights, she'd tell me she wasn't hungry or that she had already eaten, but I knew she was saving the food for her daughters or she was just too financially stressed to eat.

It wasn't easy raising three kids. That was why I didn't want to burden Mom with my college fees.

Don't worry, Dad. One day, I would take care of Mom and Maya and Iris. Mom wouldn't have to work three jobs at the same time.

Mom grinned at me and said, "Hair and makeup done! Time to don the dress. Your sandals are waiting at the foot of the stairs. I don't want you spraining yourself on the way down."

Maya twirled around while holding my dress to her chest. She checked herself out in the mirror.

"Can I borrow your dress when I get taller?" she asked me.

"Of course. The dress is yours after tonight."

Maya beamed at me and reverently handed me my dress.

I'd worn my dress and strapped on my shoes. It was time to wait for my prince. I looked at the clock. Markus would be here in fifteen minutes.

I was anxious and excited.

After waiting for half an hour, I was more anxious than excited. He was fifteen minutes late and I had not heard from him. I hadn't asked for his number.

Should I contact Francis? That might be awkward.

Another thirty minutes passed and still no Markus. I sat at the foot of the stairs. Mom had sent my sisters to bed even though they said they'd wanted to stay downstairs and wait for my prince.

Mom saw the look on my face and told my sisters that they should go to bed and sleep; otherwise, they wouldn't get tall enough to wear the dress.

That convinced Maya, but Iris held my hand, wanting to stay.

"Could you tell me a story before you go?" Iris requested.

I told her the story of Echo and Narcissus. I might've inadvertently tweaked the legend a bit where Echo sort of resembled me and Narcissus appeared like the insensitive, selfish, horrible, set-the-girl-up-so-hard-she'd-never-recover stunning Markus.

If Iris found the story strange, she didn't mention it. She told me thanks and hugged me. I kissed her good night and Mom tucked her in.

Maybe someone stole Markus' phone. Maybe he had an accident. Oh no! Was he okay?

I heard a message alert from my phone in my clutch.

Markus! I was sure he had a good reason he was running late—a valid excuse he was over an hour late.

I took out my phone from my bag with shaking hands. I entered my passcode and saw a message from Yvonne.

Where are you?

I didn't reply.

I knew Mom was watching me and her heart broke for me, but she knew I hated to be coddled. This was the biggest setup I'd had since Dad had died. Yes, I'd always thought Dad's death was an awful hoax. It was a nightmare I was still hoping to wake up from.

Anyway, I didn't want to dissolve into a puddle of tears.

I was sad, disappointed, distressed, hurt and angry. Very angry.

Why ask to be my date if you had no intention of taking me to the prom? Why buy me this beautiful dress and these glamorous shoes if you're just going to stand me up?

Maybe when you had more money than you'd know how to spend, you wouldn't mind playing an expensive prank.

In that case, I assumed Markus wouldn't mind if took a pair of scissors and started snipping this dress. This would make a pretty pillow case.

But I didn't want to upset Mom. And Maya was hoping she could have this dress.

So I took a deep breath instead, pasted a smile on my face and turned to my mom.

"I'll be okay, Mom. I'll just go upstairs and get ready for bed."

Mom nodded and watched me as I slipped off my shoes and placed them back in the box—not as carefully as I'd wanted to. I might've chipped off a few stones as I rammed the stilettos back in the carton. I went to my room, undressed and washed my face.

I took out my phone. Five more messages from Yvonne. I told her I caught a bug and would not be going.

My best friend knew me well enough to stop needling me. She just sent one last message.

I'm sorry.

I wasn't going to cry. It wasn't worth it. I should've known better. I could write a new story based on this experience. I'd call it The Idiot and the Asshat.

I lay down on my bed. I couldn't sleep of course. I closed my eyes and counted sheep. The sheep started sprouting blood-spattered wings.

I got up and pulled on a shirt and faded jeans. I peeked in my Mom's room and told her I was going for a walk. I told her I just needed to get some air, but would be back within the hour.

"Would you like some company?" Mom asked.

"It's okay, Mom. I just need to stretch my legs. You could reach me through my phone if you need me," I told her.

Mom tried not to show any pity. She knew I hated it.

"Okay, honey. Be safe."

I went downstairs and got my house keys. Before I left though, I got a tumbler and filled it with Dad's cognac. Just a tumbler. Not the entire bottle. I only wanted to feel numb, not stupid.

I walked to the park. It was empty. I sat on the swing and took my first swig.

It burned. Good.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket at the same time Twenty-One Pilot's Stressed Out started playing. I looked at the screen, surprised to see the name.

Ice was calling. I didn't pick up. I took another mouthful.

I would not feel sorry for myself. I was sure Markus had a reason. The reason was probably having dinner with him now.

I took another drink.

Ice was still calling. Francis had sent a message. I would read the message tomorrow. I'd answer the call never.

Another gulp. This drink was starting to taste good.

Just as good as the time Markus was spending with Girl Friday.

I kicked the ground, making my seat rock. I kicked again, lifted my feet, held the chain with one hand and the tumbler with the other. I took another swig.

I was sitting on a swing, drinking cognac. I was positive I could write a song here. If I knew how to sing. I was tone deaf.

I held the tumbler with both hands, took one long draught then pushed the ground with my feet. I kicked harder. I wanted to fly. I looked at the stars. They were starting to merge into each other. The swing swayed higher and higher and I leaned back, forgetting that I was no longer holding the chains.

I would've fallen to the earth had a golden-eyed giant in a flannel shirt not caught me.

"Hi!" I said brightly. Wow. This drink made me happy.

"Hey," he answered gruffly. I was looking up at him while he loomed over me, balancing me by holding my arms. I knew I had too much because Ice's eyes did seem to glow a bright golden hue when I knew they were supposed to be green.

I shook my head and the world spun. My head dropped and Ice caught the back of it with the palm of one hand, then he gently pushed me back to a sitting position. I would've probably fallen off my seat if he weren't holding me.

"Hey," he said again as he moved in front of me. "Let's go to the café and get you some coffee."

I shook my head no. Not the best thing to do when you'd emptied a 500 ml tumbler filled with undiluted alcohol.

"I don't want to be sober and remember my humiliating night. At least not in the next eight hours. I want to stay here where no one can see my shame," I said.

I gripped the chains of the swing and Ice lowered himself before me, holding on to my legs. I wondered why because I thought I was pretty steady now that I had my hands around the links.

"Okay," he said.

"You don't need to stay here with me. I could wallow by myself and I have my happy juice with me," I told him, raising the tumbler to my lips. I scowled when I remembered it was empty.

"I want to stay here with you," Ice said.

I looked at him and tried to push the swing again, but Ice was still holding my legs. And staring at me, probably worried I'd fall over and crack my head.

"Fine," I replied then yawned. Drowsily, I told him, "You could let go of me though. I promise not to fall."

He didn't.

Silence. I closed my eyes and started counting sheep again. Once more, the fluffy rams sprouted bloody wings. I opened my eyes.

"I feel like an idiot. I should've seen this coming. I was a peasant waiting for a god," I ranted.

"You're not a peasant. And Markus is not a god. He's an idiot," Ice responded.

I was thinking along the same lines earlier. Except that I was the idiot.

Ice had scowled at the mention of his brother. Or my alluding his brother to a god. I knew they weren't best friends, but they were brothers. I didn't want to cause any conflict between them.

I know I shouldn't ask, but I did.

"Where is he?" Don't tell me. Tell me. Don't.

Ice just shrugged his shoulders and kept looking at me. The wind was blowing his hair across his face, but his eyes were bright and fixed on me. I doubted he'd blinked the past five minutes since he'd sat before me. If I weren't feeling lethargic, I'd be unnerved.

"You look very beautiful tonight even though you're intoxicated," Ice murmured.

Did I hear him right?

He reached out with his hand and I thought he was going to touch my face. By instinct, I would've pulled back, but I didn't. I realized I wanted to feel him touch my face. Even though I already felt warm because of my drink, I wanted to feel the warmth of Ice's palm against my skin. Just like I had felt that warmth a year ago when he had given me an iced coffee and wrapped his hands around mine.

But Ice withdrew his hand.

So I snapped at him. "Stop being nice. It doesn't suit you."

Ice looked stunned for a second then he smiled at me.

I kept frowning at him. "Not you, too. I know what you're up to. You're going to set me up, be extremely sweet and make me believe in the impossible."

I let out a huge yawn. I really felt sleepy.

Another yawn. My happy drink was a wonder drink. Now, I felt relaxed. Languid. But I wasn't done with my speech.

I pointed a finger at Ice even as I leaned my head on the chain. "You're going to make me believe in you then you're going to leave me waiting."

Yawn.

"And waiting."

Big yawn. This swing was starting to feel really comfortable.

"And waiting."

"You just waited for the wrong brother." I thought I heard him say before I fell asleep.