TAKE IT EASY • TC ✔️

15: Iced Buns for Tea

Lu heard Timmy's harsh exhale as she left, and wondered momentarily if he was glad to see her go. It was an irrational thought, to say the least; he was the one who'd asked her for the book, which was surely an invitation by default. And he'd seemed worried that he'd been keeping her from something, which Lu didn't understand. If she had somewhere to be, she wouldn't have stopped for a drink.

It wasn't like she had anywhere to go anyway.

But Lu was perhaps devastatingly familiar with the sensation of feeling unwelcome, and had been from a very early age. It was clear enough from the very beginning, where she was wanted and where she was not. She was wanted in the safety of her bedroom. The walls wanted to protect her, the floor wanted to keep her grounded. Her closet was more than happy to provide a secluded spot when the heady embrace of her comforter was not enough.

She was wanted in the crook of her father's arm on a school night, her head nestled in the curve of his beefy neck. She was wanted as he made her giggle through her tears about a, "stupid comment from a stupid boy." As they watched something probably wildly inappropriate for a seven-year-old because it was well past her bed-time and nothing else was on TV.

She was wanted in those last days by his bedside, tracing impermanent lines on his frail hand which was once so robust. Talking softly though he couldn't listen, only hear. Words that wouldn't make sense, couldn't make sense. Not now, anyway. Not to him.

She wasn't necessarily wanted in any of the groups in the playground. Not ostracised, perfectly tolerable, but too intimidated by the obstreperous screams from the soccer field to consider taking part. Too boring to compete in impromptu renditions of 'Small Village in North Carolina's Got Talent. (Her voice was mediocre at best, her dance moves weak and uncoordinated. It wasn't like she'd ever watched an episode of the real thing, anyway - her mother had claimed it brain-rot and switched to an Italian channel to ensure she stayed bilingual). Too reserved to take part in games of Happy Families. The roles of Mom and Dad were secured by the popular kids, the happy-go-lucky ones who shared daisy-chain engagement rings and pecked each other behind the bike shed.

If, at any point, she endeavoured to take part in this charade, she would be assigned the role of baby or dog, presumably out of pity. And that was fine by Lu, because she could do what she did best. Sit there and pretend, quiet and unassuming.

Still, she much preferred the solace of a book at recess. She'd sit up against the wall, knees huddled to her chest, and read about little girls in pink dresses who frolicked on freshly-clipped lawns and ate iced buns for tea, whilst real-life children ran screaming around her and mussed up their clothing. There were certainly no iced buns at recess.

Her mother had worried when she found out. Worried and intervened. Forbidden her from taking books to school so she might actually play with the others at recess. Maybe bring someone home for a playdate, which had never happened before. But Lu would smuggle the offending books into her backpack and devour the pages in her free time, chin resting on her pale little knees and socks bunching around her spindly ankles. The girls in her books weren't relegated to the role of dog. They span about and giggled melodiously and ran home to their loving mothers for a kiss on the head.

And maybe she wasn't wanted now. Maybe Timothée had thought she was inviting herself in, maybe he'd been too shy to tell her that she was intruding, that she was making a fool of herself.

But no, he'd invited her.

She had to stop thinking that way.

Julius weaved his way around her feet as she let herself in, his sleek fur a welcome comfort against her ankles. "Hey, bud," she greeted him, kicking off her shoes and walking to the desk in her room. Stacks of books covered the surface and a huge cardboard box sat half-empty on the chair, from where she'd ransacked it to find Pride and Prejudice. Lucia set about returning the books into the box, hoping that she'd find a more suitable method of storing them fairly soon.