My sister leans over my shoulder and reaches for the mask from the vanity. She places it on my face, adjusting it around my eyes.
“The silver and blue blend so well with your gown.” Her eyes move to the white scars—which look even whiter in this dress—and when she looks at me, the amount of love on her face humbles me. “Battle scars. You made it, sis.”
I know what she means, but I can’t bring myself to tell her how close I was to breaking down a few weeks ago. I can’t stand seeing the disappointment replace the pride in her eyes. I nod and force a smile, pressing my hands down to smooth the invisible wrinkles.
“God, you look just like mom in that picture when she was seventeen. Remember the one on her dresser, wearing a white gown during her and Aunty Sabine’s graduation party?” I miss not knowing about that part of my family.
Tears prickle my eyes. “I’ll check on her in a bit,” I say, untying the strap of the mask from the back of my head and placing it back on the vanity. And then pull my sister in for a hug. We step apart, and my sister wipes the tears now falling down her cheeks.
“God, look at us, crying like a bunch of babies,” I say, laughing. I pluck some tissues from the box on the table and dab away the mascara trailing down my cheeks.
“No more crying. You’re ruining my work,” Elise scolds me with a cute, stern expression as she grabs the mascara and applies it again. “What time is Cole coming to pick you up?”
I glance at the clock on my nightstand. “Fifteen minutes. God, Elise, I’m nervous.”
“Nervous?” she snorts, rolling her eyes. “You saw each other this morning. You two literally spend every second of the day staring into each other’s eyes.”
“No we don’t. We also talk. And kiss. And talk.” And explore each other, Cole doing that thing he does with his tongue on my neck.
She crinkles her nose and we laugh again. I pull her into my arms again, hugging her tightly, then lean back. “Thank you, Elise. For everything.”
She shrugs, giving me that smile I love so much. The one that makes me believe in peace, love and unicorns. That the world is better because she is in it.
“I’ll check on Mom now.” I pick the skirt up in my hands and head for the door, and leave my room with Elise in tow.
We walk past Elon’s room. A classical song with very heavy dark tones accosts us in the hallway, causing a shudder to slide down my spine.
“Wow, she’s gone dark,” Elise chuckles.
I shoot a playful scowl at her before stopping at the door and turning the knob. Elise murmurs that she’s going downstairs to make sure the camera is working and skips off.
“Hey Elon,” I say, entering the room.
Surprisingly, she jerks her head up, placing the book she’s reading on the bed. Only Elon can listen to a song like this one while reading. She’s always done this for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I think it’s her way of blocking out whatever is going on around her, which includes my parents fighting.
She eyes my gown, a smile playing on her lips. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I reach the bed and crouch so we are at eye-level. “You okay, honey?”
She nods, but her eyebrows fold in a frown. “When will you be home?”
“As soon as I can. Elise will be here if you need anything. And you can always call me.” I assure her. I raise my hand and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you and Elise so much.”
I always make sure to say that often. Assure her. My sisters hardly ever hear those words from our parents.
Those three little words seem to work the magic. The frown on her face disappears, replaced by a huge smile that seems to light up the entire room. She scrambles from the bed and wraps her little arms around me.
“I love you, Nor.”
She lets go of me, climbs back on the bed and sits cross-legged. She seems so young, yet mature in some ways. I guess she learned to survive, living under the same roof as my father. I’ve tried to protect my sisters as much as I can, but I guess I can only do so much.
I straighten from my crouch and walk toward the door. I glance over my shoulder one more time but my little sister is already absorbed in her book, forgetting the world around her exists. Just her, the book and that song playing from her CD player.
When I enter Mom’s room, the light is dimmed low. Music plays softly on the radio on top of the table next to the window, where she’s sitting in a rocking chair, looking out. The curtains are parted to let in the moonlight, giving glimpses of the stars in the dark sky.
I know when I look at her I’ll be met with eyes lost in their own imagination of whatever goes on inside her head.
I squat in front of her and lay my hand on her cheek. She blinks twice and then turns her head to face me, but her eyes aren’t really focused on me, rather on the space above my shoulder. I know she can hear me though.