I Wish

Chapter 18

It had just started to rain as I made the back door. Slow fat drops of rain slipping from the sky, growing in force and volume quickly until it was downright pelting down out there. If Ivy was still out there I wasn’t going to feel badly about it. That’s what you get for pulling a Michael Myers out for a booty call. I sighed and pushed the thought away. I was getting so sick of this unsure business, and later it seemed like it was a good time to deal with that. For now, I will shower and put my dirty clothes in the laundry. Sleep was tempting, but I knew if I didn’t clean up I would have to explain where I’d been. Not a prospect I was jumping for joy about. All my muscles were aching. Actually, if I could just call someone to come and remove my legs - swap them out with new ones, it would be great. It was probably why I didn't notice the bathroom light on.

“Get out,” Jeremy yelped. I didn’t. It wasn’t like he was naked, or on the can or something. He sat on the floor with mum's make-up strewn around him. Too white foundation smeared on his face and the most shoddy attempt at contouring I’d ever seen in my life. His eyes were wide and the sheer terror they displayed when he looked at me broke my f*****g heart. It was just devastating, because he hunched up like he was bracing himself for the worst.

“No,” I told him flatly, “Just no. You cannot wear our mum’s make-up. Her pale ass skin tone means her foundation isn’t going to match. We take after dad. You need to use mine, although we really should get you your own eyeliner, because you shouldn’t get into the habit of sharing that.” On the one hand, he stopped looking so scared. A sort of hazy confusion misted over his features and his body unclenched.

“What?” he asked blankly.

“We need darker foundation, although not as dark as dad would if he used it, mum’s is too light for us,” I said simply, and closed the door so I could sit in front of him.

“I’m not a girl,” he blurts out suddenly. Okay, I can work with that.

“You know it doesn’t matter one way or the other, right?” I told him gently. This seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Jeremey got agitated again, bringing his knees up. s**t, I was going for reassurance.

“I’m not a girl,” he repeated forcefully.

“I don’t think you get how this goes hon,” I say bluntly, “You tell me what this means for you, and I make it work. That’s how this goes. Discussion end of.” I hoped this was getting across what I meant. I didn’t want him to feel like he was doing anything wrong, because I didn’t feel that he had. I really, really needed not to f**k this up. A strange look crossed his face, and he started tugging on the ends of his fringe. Nevously trying to get it to sit properly, I watched him and wondered if he thought, if he could just get it perfect, that he’d have some kind of control over the situation.

“Girls can wear boys' clothes, and do boys' things. Like football or construction, because they aren’t boys things anymore. They’re for everyone, because no one has a problem with that,” Jeremey spoke haltingly and clearly very uncomfortable, “When boys like things that are considered girl things… it's not the same. It's treated as cute when we’re little and want to play with dolls and want to have tea parties, but it's made very clear that we’re supposed to grow out of it. To grow up and be a man. Why can’t boys have pretty things too? Why can’t we do all the things that girls can, and not have it mean we want to be a girl or want to date boys.” You know he had a good point, people did have a tendency to treat anything feminine like it’s some awful toxic thing.

“I never thought about that,” I admitted to him, “Is that where we’re at? You're a boy, not a girl, and you don’t want to date boys even though you like make-up?” He nodded, eyes widening because… I didn’t know why, but it was looking like I wasn’t doing too badly at this so far.

“And clothes, and maybe some other stuff,” he added hurriedly, “But yeah. I think.”

“Anything I can do to help you know?” I offered, wincing because it seemed pretentious, but I couldn’t just not ask. That felt even more wrong.

“Don’t think so, I think I kind of just have to wait,” he said with a small frown, “I don’t really like boys or girls yet, probably because I haven’t seen one I wasn’t related to in person since I was almost ten.” That was… more than fair enough.

“I think you might be onto something,” I said, nodding to myself, “Did you ever think about watching a make-up tutorial?” He looked offended.

“Hey, I’m trying not to get caught,” he protested cagily, “You know mum and dad probably check our internet history.” Well, if that was the case we were going to have a very awkward conversation at some point because I needed to figure out exactly what two women did with one another, and even though I knew it was a very bad idea I was planning to turn to google to find the answer. Possibly porn if that’s too complicated. I know it wasn’t the smartest way to get accurate information, and actually it was probably the worst way of getting that information, because you don't have to be a genius to see how unrealistic that s**t is. Still, it’d be pretty hard to misunderstand that. I’d just need to stick to vanilla. Wait a minute! Bigger problems.

“You do realise that it’s fine if you get caught, you aren’t doing anything wrong. Nobody is going to bother you about this,” I said, frowning, and shoving my other thoughts away. There was a time and a place to think about myself and this was not it.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, swallowing and his voice cracking with uncertainty. I stopped and actually thought about it. Nobody in this house had said anything one way or the other about this sort of stuff.

“It’s mum and dad, do you really think they’re going to flip out?” I asked him, sounding a little unsure myself. He snorted, and it was incredibly bitter for a twelve-year-old.

“Do you think I’d be in the bathroom half-assing it if I knew?” he replied, and I was getting really sick of that genuinely scared look on his face. I may have liked messing with him, but I did not want to see him like this. Jeremey was my baby brother and I would be damned if I left him like that.

“Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do,” I said, looking at him, “We’re going to run a small test. I’m going to comment on how attractive a woman on TV is, and we’re going to see how they react to that.” He started.

“You can’t do that? What if it’s bad, and they throw you out, and you don’t even like girls,” he said frantically, “I can’t let you do that, Rose.” I still hated being called that. I debated telling him that it didn’t matter, bump it, I’d lie to them a thousand times over if it stopped him having to live like this. Instead, I told him the truth.

“Well, it wouldn’t be a lie. So if this is going to be a problem, I should probably find out now. Plus, it’ll let you know where you stand, so if it is bad you know to shut up about it,” I said, thinking out loud before sighing, “I don’t think it will come to that. This is our family, they wouldn’t do this to us, and frankly it was pretty insulting that we’re assuming they would just because we can’t remember any evidence they wouldn’t.”

“I know,” he said back in frustration, “I’m just…”

“Scared,” I finished quietly.

“Yeah,” he said in agreement, “You don’t have to lie though, about liking girls. I know you're my big sister, but you don’t have to do that to protect me. Where have you even been anyway? You look like you fought a bush and lost.” Well that would have hurt a lot more if it wasn’t for the fact that even if I didn’t like girls, or rather Ivy and I was starting to think that was the qualifier here rather than what parts she happened to have, I might have done it anyway.

“I was hooking up with a girl, her name is Ivy,” I said, and much to my shock there was a sort of buzzing excitement when I told him about her. I wasn’t expecting that, it was like it was… making her real. I was worried about how greedy that idea made me.

“Oh s**t,” he said, blanching and covering his mouth. I smirked at him.

“I’d be mad, but I would do that to protect you if I thought I had to. I’m your big sister, nobody else gets to mess with you. Except Mark and, frankly, you’re the only one allowed to mess with him back,” I said, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. He complained and shoved me away, resolutely having decided years ago he was too big for that.

“Where did you even meet some girl? We live in the middle of nowhere, and oh ew. You were kissing her?” he babbled before stopping and paling again, “Not because you're both girls, that’s not what I meant. It’s just you’re my sister, and I don’t think you should ever be kissing anyone. You should be a nun.” It was cute that he thinks that I didn’t realise that.

“I know Jeremey,” I said, raising a hand up to stop him, “I don’t know where she comes from, but if you could not tell anyone I’ve been sneaking out to meet her, that would be great. I don’t want to die.” He looked at me in confusion.

“Aren’t you an adult? Doesn’t that mean that they get an opinion? Not a vote,” he said, quoting the rhetoric that we’d been told our entire childhood and wiping his face clean. I chuckled softly.

“That’s just a dirty, dirty lie that they tell you,” I explained, because hell if I was going to let the boys fall for that whopper. I’d been quite enthusiastic about being legally an adult, until I realised that nothing changed. “Okay, so here’s what we are going to do. You are going to wipe that crap off your face, and go back to bed. I’m going to have a shower and do the same, and tomorrow I’ll teach you how to put on make-up properly,” I told him, starting to help him pack up mum’s stuff, “We can make a better plan for my grand confession tomorrow, but whatever happens I promise I will do my best to make sure you come out of this okay.” He placed his hand on mine.

“Thanks. I’ll deny I ever said this, but I’m lucky to have a sister like you,” he admitted quietly. I gave him a quick hug.

“I, too, will deny I ever said this. But I’m pretty lucky to have you too,” I said because there was going to be no doubt about that if I could help it, “Now get to bed, I’ll finish clearing up here.” He said goodnight and left, and I sat tiredly on the floor. This just got a whole lot more complicated, and it was already difficult enough. I’d never even considered that our parents could be a problem. It spun around and around in my mind while I stood under the shower spray. My hair was tied on top of my head in a messy bun. Wet hair in this weather was just asking to get sick. I scrubbed myself off as quickly as I could, resenting how badly I hated it. Ivy was right, it really did hurt. I was very glad to shove my covers back, and collapse under them. I was almost out before my head hit the pillow, and yeah. The last thought I had was wondering about what Ivy was doing, and didn’t that just bite. I was screwed.