Affairs

2: Don't Say I Love You, Get a Drink And Hit On My Cousin

Don't Say I Love You, Get a Drink And Hit On My Cousin

I remember my parents sitting my little sisters and I down on the couch. It had been raining all day. My dad stood by the doorway to the living room, far too restless to sit down. Mom, on the other hand, seemed cool and collected as she took the armchair across from us. The sky was a threatening grey. All the omens were pointing at bad.

Both parents huffed big sighs. This couldn’t go well. My heart swelled with anticipation and Cassidy gripped my hand. I looked down at my little sisters. Five years old and all they’d ever experienced was the yelling and fighting that our parents had grown a foundation on. Rubbing Olivia’s back, I gave my mother the nod that we were ready for whatever they were going to throw at us.

“Your father and I have decided to separate.”

They say that right before you die that you see your entire life flash before your eyes. In that moment I saw every moment in my future life change. My parents were no longer sitting together at my graduation. They sat on opposite sides of the field at Cass’s soccer games. Only one attended Olivia’s ballet recital while the other sat at home with a completely different family. We were no longer the Wainwrights. We were Jill Carter Wainwright, David Wainwright, and their three children.

A week after the ‘talk’ Dad moved out. Day after day things disappeared from our house. Cass would ask me where they were and I didn’t have an answer for her. Olivia asked everyone she could where her Daddy was. Mom wouldn’t even acknowledge that he’d left.

Three months later my mom sat me down at our dining room table after we’d put the twins to bed. She looked apprehensive.

“Mom, are you alright?”

“Of course Sophia. I just have to ask you something.” Here it was. The question I’d been waiting for since Dad left. “If your father and I divorced, who would you rather stay with?”

I refused to answer her. And soon the gifts started pouring in. Dad bought me a car. Mom bought me and my friends a day at the spa. They knew that whoever won me over won the twins too. And neither was prepared to lose.

So I left.

I called up my mother’s sister Diana and asked if I could stay with her. She promised me refuge, and I used my parent’s guilt to buy my plane ticket with their promise to take care of Cass and Olivia. I still regret leaving them.

But that was four months ago.

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On Saturday I let Christina convince me to attend a party. In the time I’d been living with her I’d refused any offer to go out. Dancing and drinking wasn’t my scene and I would stick out like a sore thumb. But after hurting her feelings on Monday, along with how upset she’d been that she still couldn’t drive, I figured letting her doll me up and show me off at a party would make her week.

Sure enough, Christina took the opportunity to dress me up to an extreme level. She teased and curled and pinned my honey blonde hair into an extravagant updo that I’m pretty sure only professional hair stylists could recreate. While I marveled in the masterpiece that was my head, my cousin poked and prodded my face. When she pulled back I had long, soft lashes and dewy bronzed skin. How Christina had made my plain face look so fascinating was a mystery to me and I felt that she deserved a medal.

After having me try on every dress in her closet, Christina soon realized I was not going to be able to pull off her style. Where Christina was curvy and tall, I had boyish hips and only enough curves to pull off a B cup. Finally choosing a short midnight blue dress that barely reached past my boy shorts, she pinned the fabric a bit to make it look like I was actually a woman and not an, “eleven year old boy who decided to wear a dress.” Convincing her I’d fall if I wore anything else, she let me slide with a pair of flats to go with the dress. Her own five-inch heels were giving me anxiety.