Sweetheart

43

Aaron
December 2020

I like to think of myself as a feminist. I really do. Girl power and stuff? I'm all here for it. I'll even wear a skirt if that's what you want. But let me ask this: what is it with girls and packing?

"Lizzie, sweetheart, calm down. It's gonna be a five-day trip. You don't need to take much stuff."

She's been standing in front of her closet for nearly two hours, trying to decide what to put in the suitcase she's preparing for the snowboarding championship. In three days we are leaving, so I'm still wondering why she's packing now.

I'm sitting on her bed with my legs crossed, bored as I help her out. I'm not helping much, but that's not my fault, I promise.

"Which sweater should I take? This one or this one?" she asks, showing me a brown one and a beige one. They look the same to me.

I arch a brow. "Uh... The brown one?"

She nods. "Hmm, yeah... I'll take the beige one."

I sigh, throwing my hands in the air. "Tell me again why I'm here?" I ask, lying down with my arm on my eyes.

"Because I don't know what the mountains are like! How cold is it really? Should I take two coats? Do I need another pair of boots?"

"You already packed three."

"But what if one pair gets wet, the other one falls in the mud, and the third one is stolen! I might need a fourth one, no? Or maybe sneakers? Are sneakers bad?" she blurts out, walking back and forth.

"Sweetheart, we're staying there less than a week," I point out, bracing myself on my elbows. "Just take a pair of boots and some sneakers."

She bites her thumb nail. "You think so?"

I nod, smiling. "Yes."

Lizzie shakes her head. "I'm taking another pair of boots."

I groan, rolling on my stomach. "I give up."

Something hits me in the back, making me flinch. Did she just throw a shoe at me? Again? "You're supposed to help me!" she complains, walking towards me with her tiny fists closed. I bite back a laugh at how not intimidating she looks.

"I'm trying to help you, but you keep doing the opposite of what I tell you to do," I note, sitting up. "Come here."

"No."

"Come here and don't be a brat."

She throws her head back, frustrated, and sits on the bed, next to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't even know why I'm going."

"To have sex in the snow," I joke.

She scowls, although hiding a grin, and smacks my chest. "I've seen that for the past three years you made the team win the championship. I don't wanna ruin that record."

I rub her back to comfort her. "You won't."

"I don't wanna go anymore," she complains, frustrated.

"Stop it. It'll be fun. Now, let's finish this goddamn suitcase," I tell her, making her stand up. She goes back to the closet and picks something up. I stop her immediately. "Put those pants down. You don't need seven pairs of pants."

"But—"

"Put. Them. Down."

"Ugh. I hate you."

"Sure you do."

She flips me off and I simply laugh at her angry face.

———

Lizzie
December 2020