Chipped Heartz & Broken Smilez

Burn

I lay on my back, Olivia's hand draped across my stomach, her leg overlapping with mine. With the presence of someone else, my bed seemed as small as I remembered it being while my mother was alive. I could almost imagine my mother pulling her fingers through my hair while I slept. In the dark, I could barely make out anything except for the dim outline of a desk or chair. For all I knew, a demon might be moving around beneath the bed, but I ignored the need to search.

Olivia's breathing was gentle and rhythmic as she lost herself to sleep.

My mother was more than a number; Mr. Davis would come to rue the day he had told me that.

Why should I follow their curriculum?

Why should I deface myself to become one of them when they couldn't utilize the most basic human organ....

Their hearts.

The back of my hand cooled my forehead as I tried to calm down, but I didn't fall asleep till the first rays of sunlight hit the side of our building.

***

The scent of fish frying woke me. Salivating, I stumbled outside in only shorts and a bra. My father and Olivia laughed while cooking. My father seemed perfectly at ease with her, saying, "I'm sorry my daughter kissed you. She doesn't have many friends and is still learning how to interact with people. I hope you don't think too harshly of her."

Warmth flooded my face.

A few days ago, he had been on my side, and now he was smiling with her and apologizing for my behaviour. Hearing my steps, Olivia turned to smile at me, and I noticed she was wearing my mother's frilly white apron over her dress. On the front pocket were my crude drawings of my mother and me that I had done with a permanent marker while my mother was taking a nap, much to my mother's disappointment. Though my mother had beat me for ruining the white apron, she never parted with it and continued to wear it with its scars till she died. Whatever I was about to say left my head. My dad had been told to throw all of my mother's possessions away, but he had kept that.

My father followed my line of sight and cleared his throat. "Honey, why don't you get dressed? A lady really shouldn't go around without wearing proper clothes."

"And an old man shouldn't go around showing his naked beer belly for the world to see."

His left eye twitched, and he slapped his stomach. "This is all muscle, and I'm wearing clothes now that we have a guest over, so you should too. We're not so poor that we must go around half naked."

I noticed how perfectly my mother's apron fit Olivia's slender form. Some dark emotion bloomed in my chest.

"Are you alright?" Olivia asked.

I met her gaze and smiled. "It's fine; I was just thinking that apron looked good on you."

Inside my chest was a long hallway with multiple doors slamming shut as my heart closed itself off to her.

I strode over to them and sat on the hard stool near the counter.

My father scowled and muttered, "Wouldn't it be nice if my daughter acted a little more like a lady?" Then he picked up a tomato and made it answer in his voice, "It would. It would."

Olivia smiled. "Don't bother her too much. She's tired and hurting, so give her some time to come around."

My father said, "By the way, Olivia, dearest, please tell my daughter to stop calling me 'old man'. I have had grey hair since I was a teenager; it's hereditary. Three years from now and she'll be more grey than black herself. I'm not old; I just look old."