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Nope. I’m not allowing him to get under my skin.
In the morning, I wake up with my hand between my legs.
Again.
Shit.
I don’t usually remember my dreams, but I recall glimpses of this one. Dark grey eyes. Tears in my eyes and something thick in my mouth.
I take the longest, coldest shower I ever had and stumble downstairs.
“... maybe she’s remembering.”
I halt near the corner of the stairs at Aunt Blair’s worried voice.
“You’re overthinking.” Uncle’s sounds muffled due to something he must be eating.
So he did come home last night.
“Maybe we should try Dr Khan’s recommendations.” My aunt again. “She’ll be eighteen soon.”
Dr Khan’s recommendations?
And what does my age have to do with anything?
Dread lodges at the pit of my stomach. I don’t like where this conversation is going.
“Stop overthinking, Blair.” Uncle scolds. “I’ll go see if she’s up. She’ll be late for school.”
Aunt mumbles something, but I don’t hear it. I make a deliberate sound of my feet flapping against the floor as I round the corner with a big smile on my face. “Morning!”
I kiss Uncle on the cheek and let Aunt kiss mine. I drop my backpack on the chair and dig into the jam and butter. Special jam without much sugar and special non-animal butter.
My life is based on healthy food.
Appetite escapes me, but I force down tiny bites. If Aunt Blair notices I’m not eating, she’ll freak.
“Is Kim late?” Aunt asks.
“No, she has to pick up Kir this morning. I’ll take a taxi.”
“Nonsense. I’ll drive you, pumpkin,” Uncle says.
“No. You drive recklessly.” Aunt smiles. “I will.”
The bell rings. Must be Mrs Robinson next door. She loves baking and giving her muffins to neighbours. Although Aunt doesn’t let me eat them.
I take the chance to distract Aunt from my barely eaten sandwich. “I’ll open!”
Uncle gives me a look. “I will do it. Finish your breakfast, pumpkin.”
Busted.
“Why don’t you wear your hair down?” Aunt asks, smoothing my ponytail.
I take a sip of the orange juice. “It’s a hassle.”
Truth is, I never liked my hair down.
