Lights (2019)

Lies

The next two weeks my life falls into a routine. I wake up, take my medicine, eat, leave for work, get home at three, and read in my room until I'm forced to drag my corpse down to eat dinner. Any other free time is spent hanging out with Louis. He's annoyingly happy that I haven't been hanging out with Harry lately, and it is at the point where I have stopped trying to defend Harry. Let me just say this: it is hard to live two weeks without your best friend. I know, he brings me tears, and yet I can't help but miss his smile and his laugh. I'm too proud to run over to his house and tell him I'm ready to start talking to him, though. I nearly had the other night, and look how that turned out. And also, I've come to like the endless routine my life has become.

I hear Jay call me down for dinner and I pull myself away from my book. I drag myself down to the dining room where I smell pasta and chicken. A soft smile graces my features as I take a deep inhale. My father is already eating along with my siblings--chivalry is dead, I guess. I see and empty seat at the table. Oh, right. It's Friday. Louis is at a party.

Jay shoots me a hopeful smile as I occupy my usual seat. "I made pasta marinara," she tells me. "Your father told me it's your favorite."

I give her a slight smile and spoon some onto my plate. As if my father would know anything about what my favorites are. I have spent more time with Jay in the past two weeks than I ever had before. I have been trying to get to know her, and she is trying to get to know me. I wish she wouldn't ask my father things to get to know me, I want her to know that if she asked me I would tell her.

"Blair, where's Harry been lately? I haven't seen him here," Jay says casually.

I blink a couple times before answering. "He's just been busy," is all I can manage to say. "And we've had a fight," I add, surprising myself at the detail I'm providing.

She just nods. "A shame. You two really seem to get along. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up together." I choke on my pasta, bursting into a fit of coughs. Lottie slaps me on the back to help me regain my breath. Jay looks at me startled and moves to get me a glass of water.

My dad laughs. "Blair? With Harry? What a joke!"

Jay stares at my father. "What's so funny?"

"They've been best friends their whole lives, Jay, why the hell would they want to date each other?"

Jay rolls her eyes at my dad and smiles at me. "The heart wants what the heart wants," she simply says and the subject is dropped.

I eat in silence, listening to Phoebe and Daisy chatter on about their summer days spent at the neighborhood pool. Jay nods excitedly at each of their stories and even my dad cracks a smile. It's a genuine smile, a happy smile. It is strange to see him smile. I continue to eat my food in silence--it is almost as if I am an audience member to a family sit-com.

"Blair?"

"What?" I snap out of my trance to see everyone's eyes on me.

"How are you liking the pasta?" Jay asks again.

"Oh, it's uh...wonderful," I tell her, she gives me a wide smile. I am thankful that she is making the effort, but I can't help but think that no one made pasta marinara like my mother.

"I remember you used to gobble that up like it was candy when you were younger," my father remarks.

I grip my fork tighter in my fist. "Yeah," I say quietly.

"Madeleine made it like a true Italian," he says to Jay who smiles sadly, worry in her eyes as she looks at me. I don't like being looked at like that. The pity. It is a horrible feeling to have someone look at me like that. I've spent so much of my life after my mother died trying to fix myself. With perfect grades in school and a perfect job performance (which is really a "you're doing great, kiddo," from a laid back Shawn), I still work at it every day. Apply my makeup perfectly, make sure my hair looks just so. It's not that I try hard, because I really don't. I don't need her pity, and I don't want it. I don't hate Jay, in fact, I really like her. I know that with time she'll stop looking at me like that.