The Friends We Keep

She pulled off the dress and flung it on the floor, then reached for her go-to black pants. They were stretched out at the waist and in need of replacing, but none of that mattered now. They fit.

She pulled them on, then searched for a top that was on the dressy end of professional. She found a black blazer that always worked, only there was a stain on the front. She jerked the hangers across the racks, trying to remember what she owned that wasn’t too small, too frayed or just plain ugly. Her throat tightened as panic set in. In her head she heard the frantic ticking of time going by too quickly melding with the horrifying realization that somewhere along the way, she’d gotten fat.

At the far end of the upper rack, she spotted a red sleeve. She pulled the shirt off the hanger and breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, the color wasn’t good, but the loose, silky shirt would fit her. The fabric was a little see-through and had an unfortunate gold weave running through it. She had no idea what had possessed her to buy it. Still, she was grateful to have something to wear.

She pulled on a plain black camisole, grabbed the red shirt and hurried back into the bathroom. The twins lay across Boomer. Jasmine was nowhere to be seen. Not a surprise—the feline had excellent self-preservation instincts. She seemed to sense exactly when there was going to be a crisis of some kind and extricated herself before it could happen.

Makeup, Gabby thought frantically as she plugged in her hot rollers. Curl her hair, makeup, dinner prep, Makayla, Cecelia, feed the pets, talk to the twins and out the door. It was possible, she told herself. Unlikely, but possible.

She draped the red shirt over the side of the tub. Kennedy wrinkled her nose.

“Mommy, you said you were wearing a dress.”

“No, you said that. I like pants.”

“You’re still pretty,” Kenzie said loyally.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“Daddy likes you in a dress.” Kennedy’s expression turned stubborn. “And high heels.”

“I’m going to wear high heels.” High-ish, Gabby thought, already feeling her toes whimper in protest.

“Gabby, where are my white crop pants?” Makayla asked from the doorway to the bathroom. “I put them in the wash this morning.”

Gabby reached for her comb. After sectioning her hair, she put in a hot roller. “I don’t do whites on Fridays. I do them on Monday and Thursday.”

“But you knew I need them for this weekend.” Makayla’s expression turned annoyed and the volume of her voice increased. Danger. “You didn’t wash them on purpose.”

The twins looked at each other. Identical mouths formed perfect O’s as they waited to see what would happen next.

Every Friday Makayla was seeing her mother, Gabby thought grimly, there was a crisis, a fight, a something. And it was always her fault. Sugar, sugar, sugar.

Gabby faced her stepdaughter. Once again she was momentarily distracted by how pretty she was and how Makayla would spend much of her adulthood defined by her beauty. Oh, to be so cursed, Gabby thought ruefully.

“Makayla, you know I do laundry on a schedule. I’ve done it on a schedule since you came to live with us two years ago. I do the whites on Monday and Thursday. If you have a special request, I’m happy to try to help, but you didn’t tell me about the pants. I had no way of knowing they were in the laundry.”

Tears filled the teen’s eyes. “You could have looked.”

The unreasonable statement made her chest tighten. Deep breath. “And you could have told me. I can’t read your mind. Is there something else you can take with you?”

“No, the weekend is ruined!”

“Why is that?”

The question came from the bedroom. Gabby felt the tightness around her chest ease just a little. The twins scrambled to their feet and raced toward the speaker, as did Boomer.

Shrieks of “Daddy! Daddy!” competed with barks and Makayla complaining about her lack of white crop pants.

Gabby turned back to the mirror. The odds of her getting close to Andrew in the next ten minutes were close to zero. The girls and Makayla always claimed his attention when he got home. Boomer needed his moment with the master of the house. Even Jasmine would stroll in for a quick chin scratch.

Gabby finished rolling her hair, then quickly applied her makeup. She had a five-minute routine that got her through most situations. She wasn’t sure who the fund-raiser was for or the crowd they might face, so she took a little extra time with her eye shadow and liner.

Ten minutes later she pulled out the rollers and finger-combed her hair, then applied hair spray. Earrings followed. She slipped on low pumps and hurried out of the bedroom.

She walked toward Makayla’s room. The teen was folding pink pants.

“You doing okay?” she asked, careful to sound cheerful rather than cautious.

Makayla nodded without looking at her.

“Okay, then. Come get me if you need anything.”