The Ark

6.

I bit my lip as I ran my eyes over my outfit in the mirror. The shopping bags on my bed had contained two outfits—I'd opted for the one containing a sparkling tiered gold skirt. It was short at the front, falling into a long, shimmering waterfall at the back. The top that had been paired with it was a matching gold, but when I put it on, it looked a little... much.

I dug through my wardrobe and found a black long-sleeved top that sat off my shoulders and finished exactly where the skirt sat on my waist. As soon as I tried the two on together, I knew it was the outfit for the night.

Despite not really enjoying the girly crap Mum did, it wasn't possible to live with the woman for 17 years and not pick up a thing or two in the make-up department. Before long I had covered the bags under my eyes with concealer and stuck on a winged eyeliner stamp and a bit of mascara. Sometimes, with enough make-up, I thought Mum and I looked almost the same with our honey brown eyes and chestnut hair—but she always had this glamorous edge that I couldn't quite identify and had definitely not inherited.

Dad knocked on my door as I finished fiddling with my hair, resolving to just leave it loose and wavy while it dried from the rain and covered the fresh pain patch on my neck.

"You look lovely honey," he said, coming in and kissing me on the forehead. He was dressed in a tux with his usually wild, sandy hair gelled back. "Do you think you could do me up?" He pointed to the open bowtie hanging around his neck.

I fixed his bowtie and took as step back to appraise the whole outfit. "Looking good Dad."

He looked away, embarrassed by my comment, his eyes catching on the looted shopping bags on the bed. "You happy with everything the stylist got?" He sidled over to a jewellery bag I was yet to have open, and peeked inside.

"Of course!" I replied, "But you didn't have to buy all this you know. I could have just worn one of the dresses I have here."

He smiled and shook his head, fishing around in the bag. "I haven't seen you in so long—I just wanted to get you something nice."

I pressed my lips together, pushing down the part of me that wanted to tell him gifts don't make up for lost time—especially ones you payed someone else to pick out.

"What about this?" Dad pulled a small box from the bag and cracked the lid. "That would go with what you're wearing, right?" He handed the box over with some clumsy hesitation.

I peered inside and took in a sharp breath. "Um yes." I said, tipping the golden star pendant into my hand. The chain slithered out of the box after it, curling around the five-pointed beauty. "Dad it's gorgeous!"

"So are you kiddo," he said, watching me loop the pendant over my head. A sentimental look had taken hold of his features.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"You alright?"

He blinked, the nostalgia fading from his eyes and a thin, unconvincing smile taking its place. "I'm fine," he said, "just can't believe you're eighteen soon. Sometimes it feels like I've missed out on too many important moments."