peach light fading

four

When Micah had come to the house that evening, I had made it back to the guest room. I was lying down on the bed. It was dark as I had not turned on any lights yet, instead of straining my eyes at my phone as I watched poorly filmed makeup tutorials.

Although the house was big, I could still tell that the garage door had opened from the second floor. After the faint beep of the alarm being shut off and a call of, "Honey I'm home!" I got up immediately and haphazardly stumbled to switch the lights on.

His voice made me want to laugh and scream in the best way. As my head throbbed as I found the small mirror hanging by the closet, and looked at myself. My eyes were a tad red and whatever had been on my lips that morning had surely worn off. It was what it was.

Inside my stomach twisted. As I turned to look at the room I had just joined I was surprised there was already a pile of clothes just in front of the foot of the bed. Typical.

There was a shuffling outside my door and a singular knock. I scurried over, praying that anyone but Micah was outside of my door.

I swung it open to reveal my sister.

"Dinner's ready."

"Hal tubikhti?" I asked, squinting my eyes.

"No, ordered. Have you been sleeping again? That's not good during the day. You know that."

I never once thought sitting down with the Fords would be a boring affair. And this dinner was no exception because even in awkwardness there is a level of excitement. Sherry and Rochelle were safe from the silences, looking at each other and giggling, whispering.

Unfortunately, I was across from them, sitting right next to Micah.

I felt his eyes trained on me, but I felt as if I couldn't even manage a smile. He was the first to speak.

"So." Micah cleared his throat. "You're a junior now right?"

I turned to him and let my eyes roll over him before nodding.

Micah had grown broad in the years that I hadn't seen him. He was taller of course, but his face had changed as well, growing sharper with harder edges. He still didn't look anything like his supposed sister, with a nose as broad as my own and skin of tawny brown.

When I was a child, and for the first time realized that people had different races, I asked Micah how come he looked so different from his parents. It was much more polite than asking how come he only stood behind them at public outings. Or why did they talk about him like you're an elf from a book and not just Navajo Nation.

Now I just asked, "You still painting?"

"Huh?" His eyebrows furrowed.

"Your art?"

    His whole face warmed up and he seemed on the brink of laughter. "Oh god, I really haven't seen you for a while. I stopped maybe a year ago. After the house went down, I guess I fell out of it."

    My face dropped at that and it felt as if with those words it was last summer again. I tried to think of the Ford's lakehouse, of Micah's own personal art gallery in the closet, of all of those things as they used to be, complete and whole and perfect. It was the only thing the Micah asked of his parents, somewhere to keep his art. And it was gone.

I tried to smile again, saying, "I thought you were really talented." I was aware of how my voice had sweetened as I talked to him. But I wanted this boy to like me.

"I guess at different things." He smirked. "You look all grown up. Your hair's straight now, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, subconsciously leaning back from him. I found myself praying that he wouldn't ask how that happened like a black girl's hairstyle changing was a work of magic. But he didn't and I was thankful.

I added a smile and looked across the table to see that Sherry was looking at me. I pulled down hard on my sleeves and turned my eyes back to my food.

Dessert was sorbet which was eaten at the table and champagne that Sherry slipped me in a plastic cup before Rochelle and her left for their room. She had winked at me before she handed it to me. The cup was topped with raspberries and strawberries and I drank the liquid slowly as I walked slowly up the staircase, careful not to catch up with them. The cup carried a secret, a silly one, but still another addition to the pile of hidden truths between Sherry and me.

I noticed Micah had retired to the couch which he laid on while watching a football game on TV.

Right before I left I said, "Goodnight."

He nodded at me and muttered, "Get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."