Marshall-
I watch out the window as Camilla leaves. Dammit. I turn, and walk up the stairs 2 by 2, and swing open Laney's door. She sits on her eyes red on her bed, clutching a pillow. She looks up at me fearfully like I'm going to flip shit, and hides her head in her pillow again and cries hardier.
I sigh, and close her door, and sit on her bed. She's getting older I know, teenagers do this, especially girls, shit, I watched Kim grow up.
"Laney," I sigh again," What's wrong?" I ask, but I know what's fucking wrong.
" You- you-you must hattteeeee me!!!" She wails, looking up, and somehow cries even fucking harder.
I take a mental deep breath, trying not to lose my patience. " Laney, why would I hate you?"
" B-because I-I-I ruined your dattttteee!!!!!" She through herself back, and slams into her pillow.
"Laney, it probably wouldn't have worked out anyway." I tell her rubbing her back.
"But she was so nice to us, you know?" She sits up slowly and rubs her eyes.
Now I look at her surprised, " You liked her?" I ask
"Yeah, she was nice, I think Whitney thought she was too, but I don't think Hailie liked her."
"You think?" I ask, " Hailie liked some off my other girlfriends, like Britney . . . " I look at Laney again.
" You really liked her huh?" She asks me, giving me a hug.
"Britney Murphy, she was okay for 8 Mile, but she was a possessive . . . " I roll my eyes think off Britney, pretty yes, funny yes, obsessed, a lot.
"No Uncle Marshall! Camilla !" She exclaims jumping on her bed like Whitney does.
"Stop that," I say, " And her face falls, but then brightens, sitting on her bed again
"Camilla and I kind of . . . " I trail off again, wringing my hands in my lap
"You can get her back!" Laney says.
" Uhh, how?" I ask clueless and embarrassed
" Did you and Aunt Kim get like back together a million times? Shouldn't you know?" She looks at me truly fucking confused, and at the same moment I think I am too.
"You Aunt and I where a bit different I guess . . . " I tell her
"Oh," She considers this, " Well if you want her back, just tell her."
"Tomorrow." I promise, and get off her bed and walk towards the door.
"Uncle Marshall?" I hear
"Yeah?" I turn back around
"What for dinner?"She asks
"Well, we sure have a lot of pasta . . . " I give her a rare smile.
She nods, " Make sure you smile at her tomorrow
YOU ARE READING
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