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Today, I’m lying on an old table with a white sheet over it in Lily’s basement, pretending to be dead while she puts makeup on me. I’m not being a very good dead person, though, because I keep squirming, twitching, and having to scratch some random itch.
“What the hell are you doing?”
We both jump at the sound of Alex’s deep voice. Lily drops her makeup brush, which clatters to the concrete floor.
“What the fuck, Dad?” she says, picking the brush up and wiping it on her jeans. “I’m practicing mortuary makeup.”
“No, you’re not,” he replies. “Sit up, Penny. Now.” He grabs my hand and pulls me up. I’m surprised to feel his hand shaking in mine.
“What’s wrong with you?” Lily demands. “I can’t do it if she’s sitting up. I have to learn to do it on people who are dead, lying down.”
“No one is pretending to be dead in my house.”
Lily tosses the brush into her makeup kit. “Why are you such a freak? I don’t make fun of your art.”
“You’re the one who wants to doll up dead people, and I’m the freak?” he scoffs.
“Dead people deserve to look good, too. It’s the last time people get to see them. My mother looked beautiful in her coffin, even though the side of her head was bashed in. That was from makeup.”
Color drains from Alex’s face. “How do you know that?” he seethes through clenched teeth. Pale-blue veins bulge in his temple and neck.
Lily cowers back from him. “Grandpa showed me pictures he took at her funeral.”
Alex’s fist crashes down on the table next to me. “I’m gonna kill that sick fuck.”
“Dad!”
My head swims as they yell at each other. Lily shouldn’t have pictures of her mother in a coffin. She never should’ve seen something so morbid. Brianna wouldn’t want anyone to have pictures of her like that, no matter how much they loved her—she just wouldn’t want that. She would never want Alex or Lily to see her that way, to remember me that way…
She just wouldn’t want that.
A stabbing pain pierces my temple, making me gasp. Squinting, I reach up to rub my forehead. My other hand is still clenched in Alex’s and I can’t bring myself to pull it away.
“Please, stop yelling,” I beg in a whisper. “Please…”
My voice suddenly sounds foreign to me, like it’s not my own. The pain in my head threatens to split my skull open.
“What’s wrong?” Concern etching Alex’s low voice.
I stare up at him, but his face blurs in and out of my vision. “I don’t know… my head hurts. I feel dizzy.”
He releases my hand to cup my face in his palms. His thumbs swipe my cheeks and eyelids. My heart pounds in unison with the throb in my head.
“You’re wrecking her makeup,” Lily protests. “She gets dizzy a lot. She told me it’s from her allergies. Right, Penny?”
“Can you be quiet for a minute, please? She just said she feels sick. Look how pale she is.”
“That’s the makeup. I had to make her look dead first. She was fine until you came down here and started yelling like a lunatic.”
“Lily, run upstairs and get her a glass of water.” He searches my face. “Penny, are you alright?” he asks.
“I think so,” I reply when Lily’s gone. My voice sounds like it’s echoing through a tunnel. “Maybe I sat up too fast.”
He’s still holding my cheeks in his warm palms and I seriously don’t ever want him to let go. His face is bent over mine, his breath minty and warm. The roughness of his hands is surprisingly calming. The pain in my head fades away.
“I don’t like you pretending to be dead,” he whispers. “Please don’t ever do that again.”
Reaching up, I cover his hands with mine, not to move them, but to hold them there a little longer while my heartbeats slow down. “I won’t,” I reply softly, the pain in my head ebbing. “I promise.”
“For God’s sake, let go of her,” Lily says when she returns. She pushes Alex out of the way and hands the glass to me. “You’re okay, right Penny?” A hint of worry tips her dark brows.
I take a few sips of water. “I feel a lot better now.”
“Are you sure?” she asks. “Want me to call your mom?”
I shake my head. My cheeks heat with embarrassment from being fussed over. I’m usually the one taking care of people, not the other way around. “God, no, I’m totally fine now. I just sat up too fast.”
“Maybe you should wash your face and rest on the couch for a little while,” Alex suggests.
Yes. I want nothing more right now than to lie on my favorite red couch.
“We can watch more Gilmore Girls reruns,” Lily adds. “That always makes us feel better.”
Alex helps me climb off the table, though his hand lingers on my arm as I steady myself and move toward the stairs. I like his touch there—protective, almost possessive. And familiar. So very oddly familiar.
