CHAPTER 8: LIPSTICK, CLEATS, AND UNSAID THINGS
1491 Words
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Saturday Morning in the Egan Estate Kitchen, the scent of fresh croissants drifted through the marble kitchen. Sunlight poured in through the high windows, catching the glint of silver accents and casting a glow on Amberlyn Egan’s perfect silk robe.
She was standing at the island, arranging berries on a platter like she was prepping for a Vogue photoshoot. Even in the comfort of her home, Amberlyn was timeless elegance.
Zen strolled in, barefoot, in a tank top and joggers, hoodie half-zipped, hair still damp from an early workout. She headed straight for the fridge.
Amberlyn smiled softly. “Good morning, my love.”
Zen grunted. “Mornin’, Mom.”
“I saved you a croissant. Warmed it just how you like it.”
Zen paused. “Thanks.”
She sat at the island, munching in silence, eyes scanning her phone. Amberlyn watched her with a small, almost wistful smile.
“I was thinking,” Amberlyn said gently, “maybe later we could go shopping? Just the two of us?”
Zen looked up. “Shopping?”
Amberlyn nodded. “You used to love those matching hoodies we’d buy when you were little.”
Zen’s lips curved. “Because they were black and had flames on them.”
Amberlyn chuckled. “True. But it still counts.”
Zen set her phone down. “You miss dressing me up.”
Amberlyn didn’t deny it. “I miss… glimpses of that side of you. But I wouldn’t change you.”
Zen studied her mom. “You sure? You used to cry when I came home with scrapes instead of sparkles.”
Amberlyn smiled, a little sad, a little proud. “I cried because I didn’t know how to join you in that world. Not because I didn’t love you in it.”
Zen blinked. “Oh.”
They sat in the quiet for a beat.
Amberlyn reached across the counter and brushed a damp strand of hair from Zen’s forehead. “You’re extraordinary, Zendaye. In your way. Just sometimes, I still dream of mani-pedis and girl talk.”
Zen snorted. “You can have that with Skylar. She lives for that stuff.”
Amberlyn laughed. “She does. But she’s not my daughter.”
Zen chewed on that.
Then mumbled, “Maybe… after finals, we could try that shopping trip.”
Amberlyn’s smile brightened the room. “Deal.”
"Would you be available to come watch me play this Friday, the boys are all busy to come watch me play and Dad is still on a trip, so I was hoping you would love to come?" Zen asked
Amberlyn smiled softly and replied, "I won't miss for the world."
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Post-Game. Late Afternoon. Greenwich High Stadium Tunnel.
The game was over, but the energy still buzzed in Zen’s veins like electricity. Her uniform clung to her skin, streaked with grass and sweat, her cleats clicking softly against the concrete floor. The tunnel was empty, quiet—until she saw her.
Amberlyn Egan stood at the end, arms folded delicately, silk scarf tied around her neck, lips glossed with a rose-petal sheen. She looked like she had stepped out of a fashion editorial instead of a stadium crowd. And yet, her eyes said “my child just conquered the world.”
Zen blinked. “Didn’t think you’d stay the whole game.”
Amberlyn smiled softly. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you steal a ball with your head and a smirk.”
Zen chuckled. “Desperate times.”
There was a pause before Amberlyn reached out, wiping a smudge from Zen’s cheek with the edge of her scarf. “You looked… unstoppable.”
Zen swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Everyone saw you,” Amberlyn added. “But I saw you. My Zen. Doing what you love. Being… magic.”
Zen looked down. “I didn’t think you really would, actually show up or even enjoy the game.”
Amberlyn shook her head. “I told you i won't miss it, and I didn’t always understand it. But I do like watching you. Even if you terrify me every time you tackle someone twice your size.”
Zen smiled, but it was brief. “It’s easier on the field. Out there… I know who I am.”
Amberlyn’s gaze softened. “And who is that?”
Zen hesitated, searching for the words. “Not what anyone expects.”
Amberlyn’s voice was gentle. “That’s what makes you powerful.”
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Flashback. Age 6. Egan Estate. Amberlyn’s Dressing Room.
The vanity was covered in brushes, lipsticks, and powders that shimmered like treasure. Six-year-old Zen sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide, watching her mother get ready for a gala.
Amberlyn glanced down at her daughter in the mirror. “Are you sure you don’t want a little sparkle? Just one clip?”
Zen hugged her toy football tighter. “Do I have to?”
Amberlyn crouched in front of her, heels clicking gently on the hardwood. “No, sweet pea. You don’t have to wear what I wear. I just wanted to share this part of me with you.”
Zen frowned. “Can I share something with you?”
Amberlyn smiled. “Of course.”
Zen placed her mini football helmet on Amberlyn’s head, giggling. “Now you’re ready for my gala.”
Amberlyn didn’t hesitate. She posed dramatically in the helmet like a runway model. “Touchdown!”
Zen beamed. In that moment, everything felt right.
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Present. Egan Mansion. Zen’s Room. Night.
Zen sat on her bed, freshly showered and dressed down in a hoodie and shorts. Her muscles ached, but her brain ached more. Brian had been different today. Too close. Too curious.
Amberlyn knocked once before entering. “Nanny said you skipped dinner.”
Zen shrugged. “Not hungry.”
Amberlyn sat beside her on the bed, smoothing the edge of the comforter. “This have anything to do with that charming boy with the smirk and the ego problem?”
Zen’s eyes narrowed. “Brian’s not a problem.”
“I didn’t say he was,” Amberlyn said carefully. “But something’s bothering you.”
Zen bit the inside of her cheek. “He’s... noticing things.”
Amberlyn’s expression turned cautious. “What kind of things?”
Zen stood, pacing. “He looks at me like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. And I hate that part of me wonders if he will.”
“Will that be so bad?” Amberlyn asked gently.
“Yes!” Zen snapped, then softened. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Amberlyn stood too. “Baby, you don’t have to be afraid of being seen.”
Zen looked up, voice low. “But what if being seen changes everything?”
Amberlyn stepped forward, brushing a strand of hair from Zen’s face. “Then let it change. But you don’t change. Not unless you want to.”
Zen nodded slowly, her eyes glassy. “I just… I want to be both. I want to be strong. But I also want you to see the girl you imagined.”
Amberlyn’s voice cracked, but her smile held. “I see her. Every single day. And she’s more than I ever dreamed.”
Zen leaned into her mother’s arms. For a long moment, there were no words—just the steady beat of two hearts trying to bridge a lifetime of unspoken fears.
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Scene: Amberlyn’s Library. Later That Week.
Amberlyn sat at her grand piano, playing the soft notes of a lullaby she used to hum when Zen was small. The door creaked open and Zen stepped inside.
“You still remember that?” Zen asked.
Amberlyn smiled without looking up. “I remember everything about you.”
Zen walked over, sitting beside her on the bench. “I didn’t tell Ryan. Or my brothers. I didn’t tell anyone how I felt after the game. But I think… I wanted you to know.”
Amberlyn played a soft chord. “Tell me.”
Zen inhaled. “I felt like I was finally me. Not just the tomboy. Not the mystery. Just... someone good at what they love.”
Amberlyn kissed the top of her head. “Then hold on to that. Let the world see your version of girl. You don’t need their permission.”
Zen whispered, “I just needed yours.”
Amberlyn closed the piano lid. “You always had it, Zen. Even when you broke my favorite heels at age five trying to make goalposts.”
They both laughed.
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Later that evening, Amberlyn watched from the window as Zen stood by her motorcycle, helmet in hand. A full moon hovered overhead.
She whispered to herself, “No spotlight ever shone brighter than you.”
Zen looked up as if she felt it. Smiled. And rode off into the night—still her mother’s daughter, no matter what the world saw.
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- Writer
