I Wish

Chapter 19

I slept until eleven. It wasn’t on purpose, and I felt so unbelievably guilty about it. By the time I’d gotten up the boy had already been home schooling for a couple of hours. Holiday’s were only one more week away, and everyone was plenty grateful about that. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and threw off my quilt. Probably with way more dramatization than needed, but Jeremey hadn’t heard from me in hours and for all he knew I'd changed my opinion. I wouldn’t, but fear can make people think stupid things. My legs nearly gave out from under me as I scrambled to my feet, only just catching myself on the desk I grabbed my dressing gown and scrambled out of there.

“Oh look, sleeping beauty has arisen,” my dad chuckled as I made my way into the kitchen.

“Shhh, coffee,” I muttered, sliding past him, and hoping like crazy that there was still enough hot water in the kettle to make a cup immediantly. There wasn’t, because like I was going to be that lucky, and I huffed. 

“I’m glad you’re up, I thought at lunch I’d have to come wake you,” Dad said, pulling my coffee cup from my hands and starting to make what appeared to be beverages for all. Lunch huh? That was kind, he must have still been worried that I was still sick. That was the only way you could sleep till lunchtime in this house, well that and nightshift, but I digress. 

“Thanks,” I told him, leaning back against the island. A few short minutes later I was helping to ferry the cups all over the house. Finally accepting one of my own with a heartfelt sigh of contentment. This had to do something for me, I couldn’t be going the whole day feeling like exhausted crap to this extent. I actually had stuff to do today, and wasn’t that something? Dishes first, there was no way Jeremy was getting out of school work before lunch break anyway and it was my turn. The coffee helped the bare minimum, but it was enough for me to fill the sink and get scrubbing. I hated our sink, rather than having two sides for dishes. It only has one and two sinks. One bigger, and one smaller, this wouldn’t be so bad except for the part where the dying rack was on the left. Clean dishes go to the right, end of discussion. Seriously, fight me. This is the hill I die on. I managed to get all of my dishes done right around the time mum called lunch break. Five minutes after I went up stairs, and wasn’t that rookie mistake waiting exactly five, Jeremey snuck in and closed my door behind him softly.

“What the hell? Did you die a little this morning or what? I waited forever for you to wake up,” he said in an angry whisper. I winced. Yeah, I had definitely dropped the ball on that one. 

“Sorry, I showered and passed right out. As soon as I woke up I descended like a damn zombie, so quit freaking out. We’re going to be fine,” I said as gently as I could, which I’ll admit was pretty much just short of snapping. 

“Oh I know, you look like s**t,” he commented with a cocky grin.

“You can always count on a little brother to make you feel loved,” I quipped back, and he scrunched up his face. Jeremey hated being reminded that he was my Mark, and that Mark was mine too. The cost of too many emotions, not enough space to bottle it up.

“Did you have a plan?” he asked after a moment of silence. Yes and no. Yes because I did have sort of the rough outline of a plan. No it wasn’t clever in any way, shape or form of the imagination. 

“I’m thinking I’m going to have to get clumsy about it,” I confessed, “It’s not like I can tell them about Ivy, so I’ll just wait for some passably attractive woman to appear on TV and make a comment.” Now it was my turn to scrunch up my face, because I knew it wasn’t cheating but it felt like it was and more to the point I knew that Ivy would consider it so. 

“You look so grossed out by that, are you sure you like girls,” he asked hesitantly, watching my face, and almost flinching as the words came out, “Because you look disgusted by the idea of having to do that.” I bit my lip and considered how to answer.

“It’s complicated. I don’t think I like girls, and I know now that I don’t like boys. I think it’s just… Ivy. I don’t think I’m attracted to anyone else, I think she’s it,” I say, shocking myself with just how true the words feel. I start to pick at my quilt cover and swallow. I knew what mates were logically, but now… well it just kept surprising me. 

“If you say that’s how you are, then that’s how you are,” Jeremey said in a clumsy attempt at parroting my from last night back at me, “We’ll make it work. Will you tell me about Ivy though?” Now I was back to biting my lip, and shaking my head.

“I wouldn’t know what to say yet, but she’s epic,” I admitted. Epic in a completely nuts and will go down in history kind of way. “Sooo,” I said slyly dragging the word out and changing the topic, “Would you like to shop online with me?” He eyed the phone in my hand with excitement and trepidation, like he could believe this was really happening… or like he was looking for the catch.

“You won’t… you won’t make fun of me for this, will you?” he asked me sitting heavily on the bed next to me, “I know it’s not mean. It… because you’re my big sister and it’s your job to pick on me, even if you won’t let anyone else. I know it’s just teasing, but please. Not about this.” I wrapped an arm around his shoulder, like I used to do when he was much smaller. 

“Not about this, I promise,” I swore to him, there was a line between good-naturedly giving him s**t and actively hurting him. With such a clear warning I wasn’t even going to bother trying to figure out where the line between them was. It just wasn’t happening. He gave a small genuinely happy smile, and if it was watery I didn’t bring it up. It turned out that what I was expecting from this wasn’t what I got out of it. I thought he’d want make-up or clothes, and he did, he also wanted Disney princess themed notebooks and a handbag, heart-shaped sunglasses, sugared vanilla and strawberry bubble bath, and a purse. 

“If we had been within busing distance of a Big W we would have totally bought all of this stuff. As it is, we’re going to have to do it in increments, or…” I said turning my head to the side and looking at him before pulling a garbage bag of old clothes that had been meaning to go to the second hand store for at least a couple of years. “Here, try some of this on,” I instructed. Not a lot of it fit, but his face lit up so brightly as he pulled them on. They were baggy, but the way he ran his fingers over them and seemed so genuinely happy had me figuring out what my next hobby was. 

“And you’re just going to let me have all this stuff?” he asked me like I was offering free money. It wasn’t that special, it was just my old clothes and it was uncomfortable how much it meant to him despite that.

“I’m going to sew them so they fit,” I said with way more confidence than skill, “Stay here a minute, and try to find me a tutorial. I’m going to stop by mum’s sewing kit for supplies.” He nodded with wide eyes, and caught my phone as I threw it at him. It didn’t take long to collect some pins, scissors and a bag stuffed with odd scraps of fabrics, ribbons, lace and small jar filled with beads and sequins. Mum may not have found the right hobby yet, but it was clear that whatever the right one was sewing based. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the contents of the bag, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. Mark was so enthralled about having solitary to himself without a fight that he didn’t even look up to notice I was in there. By the time I’d got back to my room, Jeremey had a pair of store-ripped jeans and a nice cropped tied-dyed pastel rainbow t-shirt inside out. Video playing on the bed where he was studying it intently. The volume was so low either of us could scarcely hear it. 

“Okay, so it looks like you just pin it to fit, I take them off and you take them in,” he said with scrunched brows. It was adorable how much he focused. I had a feeling that it was going to be much harder than that, but I was going to make it work anyway. Jeremy was right, he did deserve nice things and being a boy did not change that.

“Okay, let’s get to work,” I said, pulling my hair up into a messy ponytail. We managed to get two outfits pinned, and I brought out the miniature sewing machine that I’d been given for Christmas about eight years ago by a relative that didn’t know me very well. I wasn’t sure why I’d kept it, but I was glad that I had. I’ll admit it took a while for me to get the stupid thing working, I had a scrap piece of fabric it had all but eaten and about ten or so bloody pinpricks in the tips of my fingers by the end of it. Don’t even get me started on the bobbin, seriously just don’t. Without Google I would have had to quit, but in the end I had two pairs of pants, the top he’d picked out and another random shirt finished. It wasn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, or the neatest, but he smiled so wide when he’d tried them on after dinner that I found one of my own stretching across my face. Also apparently even my face muscles ached from last night, and smiling was straining. I still didn’t stop.

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to wear these around the house, like they’re normal?” he’d asked me before stashing the clothes I’d altered for him away in a spare basket in my room. I studied him, hopeful but not wanting to say yes just on the very slight chance that I was wrong.

“Give me a couple days to find an actress that’s half as pretty as Ivy at least and we’ll figure that out,” I promised him, and I had every intention of biting that bullet. I don’t think Ivy would let me be homeless, so this was a risk I could afford to take. Jeremy was twelve and there were at least six very uncomfortable years waiting for him if this went badly for him. “We’re in this together,” I added making sure he knew that, “Now go play or something. Mum’s and dad are going to want you in bed soon. You’ve got schoolwork tomorrow.” He grinned and snuck out of my room. It was nice. The feeling that, for now at least, everything was going to be okay.