Marriage of Unconvenience
Page 31
“Yeah, Care, I know. It’s not like I haven’t been with you. Remember all those family vacations you took with us?” My parents would get a hotel room and Cara and I would get our own room and we thought we were just the most mature. We’d stay up and watch TV late into the night and order room service in the mornings and rack up a huge bill, but my parents never minded. I think they knew that things were tough for Cara at home, so they wanted to try and give her what she couldn’t get there.
“Remember the time you got your period?” she said and I hid my face behind a pillow. That was one of those memories I would rather forget, and was glad only Cara and my parents knew about.
“I thought I was dying,” I said. The first time I’d gotten my period had been on a trip to Disneyworld, and I had woken up with blood in my underwear and freaked Cara out by screaming and running to the bathroom. I thought I’d wounded myself or had internal bleeding. It hadn’t occurred to my twelve-year-old brain that it could be my monthly cycle until Cara practically broke down the bathroom door and found me sobbing on the floor.
Once she’d explained things to me, and my mom had reminded me that we had talked about this happening plenty of times, I calmed down and then put in my first tampon and had a great day at the Magic Kingdom.
To this day, I couldn’t think about how dramatic I’d been without wanting to fall through the floor.
“But you lived,” Cara said, finishing her pizza and sitting next to me on the couch.
I snuggled into her shoulder.
“Somehow I did. Thanks to you.” She reached over and started playing with my hair.
“We should get a bigger couch,” she said. Right now I didn’t have one. I’d gotten rid of the one I’d purchased at a thrift store in college when I’d moved in with Lisa. I guess I thought that since hers was better, I didn’t need mine. And that by the time I needed a new couch, I was going to have enough money to buy one. I guess it wasn’t a totally outlandish idea, because now I would have enough money to get a fancy couch.
“What color do you think?” she asked. I closed my eyes as she softly scratched my scalp. I was going to ask her to braid my hair before I left. Cara had a gift for doing intricate braids and it meant I didn’t have to fuss with my hair for a few days.
“I’m not sure,” I said, starting to get drowsy. “What do you think? I’ve never really decorated before. Not in an intentional way. I just pick stuff I like, even if it doesn’t go together.” Cara snorted.
“Yeah, I know. Do you mind if I do a little decorating? Even if you buy the stuff, I can help arrange it in the right way.” I opened my eyes.
“There is a right way to decorate?” I asked. I wasn’t aware of this.
“Yes, there is.” She seemed really sure about that.
“Have I been decorating the wrong way?” I already knew the answer. Cara looked at the ceiling and sighed heavily.
“Okay, that’s it,” I said, going for that ticklish spot on her ribs. “There is no wrong way to decorate, say it!”
“Never!” Cara screamed through giggles. She tried to get away and only succeed in getting both of us onto the floor in the midst of all the boxes. Thankfully she had a thick carpet on the floor, or we might have had injuries.
She thrashed from side to side.
“Say it,” said, ducking out of the way of her flailing limbs.
“You’ll have to kill me,” she said, and I gave up.
“Fine. Maybe you have better decorating sense than me,” I said, laying on my back as she caught her breath.
“That was mean.”
“It’s not my fault I’m not ticklish at all. My tickle button is broken.” Cara snorted. Our sides were pressed together and I wanted to reach out and take her hand. It seemed like the right thing to do, so I did. She flinched for a second, but wrapped her fingers in between mine and held my hand.
My heart did a slow happy roll, like a cat basking in a bit of sun on the floor.
“How are you going to do your hair?” she asked.
“Huh?” I said. I was too distracted by the feel of her hand in mine.
“How are you going to do your hair? I could braid it for you.” she said, letting go of my hand and turning on her side to look down at me.