To Light and Guard

Chapter Twenty-Four

On Halloween afternoon, the doorbell echoed throughout the house. Lana lifted her head from where she'd stooped over her typewriter, eyes narrow through her glasses to read the text generated by her fingers; she was knee-deep in the fifth chapter of her book, and she had hoped to finish it before Lois and Barb arrived. She glanced up at the wall clock. Her brow furrowed. "Who the hell?" She spun away from her desk to watch as Mary Eunice left the kitchen, sweater sleeves pushed all the way up to her elbows. "Wait, don't—" Lana sprang up from the desk and raced toward her. "We don't know who it is!"

Mary Eunice looked through the peephole on the door. "Yes, we do." She unlocked the deadbolt in spite of Lana's hasty hiss of disapproval and opened it to Lois. "Hi!" Mary Eunice beamed at the redhead, but her smile dissipated as Lois hurried into the house, her auburn hair tied back into a neat bun.

Lois glanced up at them, harried eyes springing from one to the other. "I'm so sorry I'm late."

Lana frowned. "Late? It's not even two o'clock. Trick-or-treating starts at six."

"I know, only four hours! I have to do a total transformation! Marilyn has to be perfect." Oh, dear. Lana lifted her gaze to Mary Eunice, exchanging a look with her; Mary Eunice shrugged it off, apparently unbothered by the notion, though her teeth troubled her lower lip, and her right hand reached to pick at the healing scabs on her left arm. "Lana—what's your costume? What are the makeup demands for it? Barb gets off work at four; she might have to do it for you, unless you can do it yourself, but I would recommend against that. You don't want powder on your costume."

She ogled at Lois for a moment, lips parted and words refusing to come to the surface, tongue flapping uselessly at the roof of her mouth, before she managed to say, "No—There's no makeup with my costume." I know what I'm going to wear. She wanted it to be a surprise. "Just take care of... Marilyn." She raised her eyebrows at the words, fighting to keep a straight face. Should have known better than to trust her with this. "The bathroom is yours. But, please—keep it tame, alright? No full-body makeup, or cutting large portions of her hair, or doing anything her priest might raise an eyebrow at." Lois rolled her eyes skyward, and Mary Eunice's face became all the more sheepish, red tinting her cheeks as she averted her blue eyes, hand still picking at her arm until Lois noticed and swatted it away. "I'm serious. Reporters might show up, and they know her name now." That was a mistake. Lana bit her lip; it was too late to consider the repercussions of her writing now. Mary Eunice had given her consent, and Lana couldn't ask for much more than that. She couldn't request for the journalists to leave them alone because she knew they wouldn't. "Just, please, be mindful?"

"Wouldn't dream of doing anything differently," Lois promised, but her tone indicated otherwise, punctuated and sarcastic; Lois looked to Mary Eunice and winked like two conspiratory teenagers fighting to avoid their mother's gaze. Mary Eunice shrugged, sheepish, at Lana. The wrinkle between her brows hadn't vanished. "Lana, seriously, relax. It's Halloween. It's all about being someone you're not and having some fun!" A simper flushed across Lois's petite lips, a glow in her light brown eyes, the flirtatious appeal which had won Barb's heart. "I think even priests know that. Or, they should, anyway. They're people, not emotionless robot-drones with Bibles stuck in their heads. C'mon, babe." She took Mary Eunice by the elbow and tugged at her. "I've got a whole slew of things for you to try. All made for sensitive skin. I don't want you to get a rash again..."

Gazing at them as they retreated down the hall into the bedroom, Lana tilted her head back in appraisal, the way Lois held Mary Eunice's bicep, the light sound of Mary Eunice's fluttering giggles just before the door closed in their wake; if they had been anyone else, two strangers to her, Lana would have suspected they retreated to the bedroom to make love, not to play dress-up. A hot green fire licked up through her gut, bitter envy. Don't be stupid. You can't be jealous. Lois is her friend, just like you are. Face smarting red, she considered, But Lois probably doesn't kiss her at random. Sweat slicked her palms; she turned on the ball of her feet and headed toward the kitchen for a snack. She needed a distraction. Lois doesn't hold her at night. Doesn't sleep under the covers with her. Doesn't know what her voice sounds like when she sings.