I consider this. Ordinarily I would have said no, but lately... “I guess I am kind of happy?” I say. “Maybe? For the first time in ages, I don’t feelunhappy.”
I hand him a T-shirt to hold up as a screen between us, and then wriggle out of my shirt and jeans, changing into the push-up bra.I hear Ash clear his throat slightly, and I quickly pull the green silk over my head.
“Nothing you haven’t already seen,” I quip, but when Ash doesn’t reply, the comment feels heavy and loaded.
I touch up my makeup and redo the red lip in the exact way that Samira showed me: pencil first, fill it in later.
I look down at the beautiful vintage silk and then pull on the strappy sandals. Finally, I grab the trench Jackie gave me.
Then, while Ash is still waiting behind the T-shirt, I slide out of the car.
“You can look now,” I say.
He drops the T-shirt without looking up and climbs out of the car, rounds the back, opens the boot, and grabs his overnight bag. Then he looks up at me, stopping in his place.
I do a little curtsy and then a twirl, and he stares at me like I’ve reached inside and squeezed his heart with my bare hands.
“Okay, we’re good to go in,” I say, looking to the door.
“It’s going to be fine.”
“I don’t feel fine. I don’t feel happy,” I say. “I feel nervous as hell.”
“My mum says happiness is a journey, not a destination.”
“Not this journey. This journey is going to be excruciating.” I jut my thumb toward the front door so he’s sure I mean the seeing-my-parents part of this journey, and not the traveling-with-Ash part.
He stops just before we get to the door and turns to me. “Anything I need to know before we ring the bell?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Homophobic aunt. Sleazy uncle. Aggressive brother?”
“No, no,” I say, shaking my head. “Everything behind this door is painfully average. You’ll see.”
“Jesus, Mara,” Ash says, frowning at me.
“Sorry,” I say, tugging on my trench coat. “It’s how I feel. Or felt. I’m not sure how I feel. I honestly hardly see them anymore. You’ll see,” I say, flapping about with my hair again. “What am I projecting with this look? Does it saysuccessful and together woman?”
He moves his whole mouth to one side and then looks at the garage door. “Honestly?”
“Honestly,” I reply, wanting him to lie, obviously.
“You look incredible,” he says, turning to the door and knocking three times.
Mum throws open the door and looks like she might burst into tears when she claps eyes on me, and I feel claustrophobic almost instantly. Then she leans forward and gives me a half hug, with some awkward back patting, as I side-eye Ash.
“Mara. Look at you,” she says, pulling back. Her eyes dart from my eyes to my red lips, to the trench with the skirt of the dress poking through. Then she looks at the shoes. “You look so different. So grown-up. I barely recognized you. Look at your hair! You’ve finally cut it! Her brother used to call her Cousin It,” she explains to Ash, and then covers her mouth and says, “Whoops.” The first embarrassment.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Williams. I’m Mara’s flatmate, Ash,” he says, and I mutter apologies for not introducing them.
“Oh, it’s Elaine, darling,” she says, beaming at him. “Is that your car?”
“It’s hardly going to be mine, is it?” I mutter, and Mum does that uncomfortable laugh she always does when we’re in company andIembarrassher.
“Oh, Mara,” she says, looking between me and Ash, her cheeks turning red, “you’re so funny.”
Mum looks different. Thinner. And her long hair is pinned back in an elaborate plaited bun. We have the same hair color, the same eyes, the same round face, and while I feel my chubby cheeks make me look immature and girlish, they keep mum looking utterly youthful. “Well. It’s wonderful that you’re here. Come in, come in.”
