Burning For Her Love

Perfect and Sweet

Maisie

Sundays are so boring. That's the first thought that haunts me every Sunday as I wake up, sighing and sitting in the sunlight as it streams in. I sit up on my bed, the bedsheets soft and warm underneath my legs. I look out of the window, at the birds chirping and flying around outside, the squirrels scampering up trees.

It's a sunny day again, no clouds in the vast range of blue looming outside of my window. I smile as I remember what me and Faye used to do on days like these, taking spare paper and folding it up into a paper fan, sitting back as she directed the cool air to me. I always had to help her, though. She'd get frustrated, scrunching up the paper fan and throwing it away, or promptly bursting into tears about how the paper wouldn't fold, until I made hers for her.

Nostalgia clouds my thoughts, making me smile momentarily until my stomach growls, knocking me out of that. I get up from the bed, grabbing my phone as I do so and smiling as I see the various good morning notifications. But, Faye hasn't sent me one. Maybe she's at church again. I think that's what it is. I know she hates it there, but she also tells me she may burn in hell if she doesn't go.

I text her anyways, typing out my message.

"Good morning, Faye (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)." I type more, before stopping myself. I send it, before wandering over to my mirror. My brush waits neatly for me on the side, my fingers wrapping around the handle and then bringing it through my hair, watching as the soft locks fall about. I can hear noise from the kitchen, my parents are already awake. I don't have any siblings, so it's just them. Faye is constantly reminding me of how lucky I am for that, and I agree when I  hear her horror stories.

I get dressed and I wander downstairs to the kitchen, my mouth watering at the thought of a bowl of fruit right now. Berries of any kind, but especially strawberries. Chopped melon. I smile at my parents as I enter the kitchen, recieving a smile of acknowledgement in return. My mother speaks first.

"Morning, Maisie." She starts with a smile, before she continues. "Are you going somewhere?" She gestures to my outfit. I look down at it, my soft, white top showing off my creamy shoulders, my denim skirt to match. It's simple, but it's too hot to wear something more elaborate. I know what she's talking about when she speaks, wondering about Faye.

"Morning." I start politely, giving another smile to my father as he moves out of the way, allowing me to get a bowl. I gather the fruits I want, chopping them up neatly and arranging them in the bowl with a little bit of honey drizzled on them, before glancing back over my shoulder. "Me and Faye might go to the park, or something-" I add softly, before I'm interrupted quickly. I saw my mother's disapproving look before she even said anything, believing that I am too good to be friends with somebody like Faye. It always surprised me, since Faye goes to her church thing and all. That'd be good enough for most, but not my parents.

"That girl.." She starts, moving over to my father as he also shares the strong opinion on her. "Why you are still friends with her ,Maisie, I'll never know." She finishes, obviously holding back on a long train of thoughts, although I can practically see the steam coming out of her ears as it passes. I go quiet, standing there, before simply letting them distract themselves in conversation and making my escape upstairs, to my bedroom.

I sit with the bowl of fruit in my lap, picking at it. I've always tried to be perfect, to live up to their expectations, to be their sweet girl who excells in everything I do and keeps things neat and tidy. It works, in some way. I have a good circle of friends, my teachers in college like me, I'm good at things and everything about me is always neat. I know Faye views me that way, too.

I don't mind it. But, I hate to disappoint them.