Page 88 of Dangerously
“Not exactly, why?”
“Your facial expression. I know it well.”
“I was just thinking about running into an old teacher and telling them the truth about my occupation.”
March laughs. “That would be funny. None of these ninnies would believe it.”
“I know; that’s what makes it so amusing.”
“Twisted, girl. I love it.”
We walk into the decorated gym, and March begins to bust a move. It's definitely a winter wonderland. Blue up-lights climb the walls, and huge, sparkly snowflakes hang like disco balls overhead.
There are hordes of teenagers dressed in formal wear dancing, mingling,and actually drinking punch. I thought they only did that in the movies. It is surprisingly typical and normal. Which, surprisingly, is making me feel typical and normal.
“Let’s dance!” Farrah grabs my hand and drags me through the room until we reach the dance floor. Within seconds, I'm surrounded by all her peers, and as we move, she’s introducing me to this one and that one. Telling me which sports team he or she plays on or what academic club they’re in. I don't try to remember any of it. I just nod and shake hands and let Farrah do her thing. Which she does, all night long. I don’t think she stopped talking for more than five minutes. At one point, March managed to score some spiked punch just so we could tolerate her verbal onslaught.
I drank it like a shot.
But all in all, it was more fun than I thought it was going to be. Especially watching Farrah being crowned Ice Princess. I find myself cherishing this time with her. Find myself feeling so proud of the woman she’s becoming. My parents may have royally fucked up with me, but they did a damn good job with her. It makes my hate for them only grow deeper, ’cause that could have been me. I could have been Farrah. Happy, thriving, with a future so bright it blinds you.
But I was robbed of that chance. I was abused, victimized, corrupted, and ruined for life.
The bud of anger and resentment grows a deadly rosebush of thorns, pricking and slicing me. Dampening my good mood and souring the night.
On the way back to the house, I’m quiet. Trapped in my thoughts. A reservoir of emotions. I don’t want to deflect what I’m feeling on Farrah, but I do. I envy her. I’m jealous of her. She got everything, and I have nothing.
It’s wrong to feel this way. It’s not her fault. But I can’t help it, and I hate myself for it.
I unexpectedly feel Farrah’s head on my shoulder. I turn to find her cuddled up against me with her eyes closed. “This was the best night of my life.” She sighs contently, and March shoots me this look that says so many things. That saysshe loves you. That saysshe deserves to be in your life. That saysdon’t take this moment for granted.Motherfucker can give stellar advice without even saying a word.
I soften, listening to him. Letting in all the good and letting go of all the bad. For now.
I wrap my arm around her and let her drift off. My little sister had a big night.
“You’re going to make a kickass mom someday.”
“Never going to happen.”
“What about Declan and Aisling?”
“What about them?”
“You seem pretty attached. And Declan seems to think you're forming a new little family.”
“I haven’t made any promises to either of them.”
“So what are you going to do? Just ditch them when this is all over?” There is disappointment in his tone. I want to punch him for judging me. All of a sudden, his moral compass is pointing north. It’s irritating.
“No, I’m not going to ditch them. I care about Declan and Aisling. I just don’t know if I’m cut out for a home in the countryside with a white picket fence. I get restless, you know that.”
“That I do.”
He knows everything. All the bloody details about my fucked-up life. He’s been there through my ups and my downs. He’s been my only constant. And our relationship works so well because he doesn't put demands on me. He gives me my freedom. He lets me be me. Would it really be that way with Declan? Would I be able to just come and go? He’s raising a child, and in a lot of ways, I still am one. I don't know if I can be in the same place, doing the same thing, every single day. Having other people depend on me. That’s a scary thought. I’m a lone wolf for a reason. It works for me.
Once we get back to the house, Farrah gets a second wind. And has apparently worked up an appetite.
Ling and Declan meet us in the kitchen as Farrah pulls out just about everything from the refrigerator.
