By her twentieth birthday, there are a few things Valarie Ricci knows for certain.
She knows that her waitressing job barely covers the costs of living out of a beat up old van. She knows she's stuck in the dead end hometown her high school friends...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Valarie knew she was in for some shit when they walked by a literal castle on the way to Alice's childhood home. A whole castle nestled in the middle of a city, and Alice barely spared it a glance as she led Valarie through winding streets, shoulders bunched high and fists shoved into her jacket pockets. Valarie didn't need x-ray vision to know that Alice was furiously picking at her own skin within the warm protection of the jacket.
They stopped before a Victorian-looking building with orange brick and black accents. The small amount of lawn space was taken up by hydrangeas that had already been trimmed back and burlapped for the season. It was nowhere near the size of Alice's home in Valentine, but, given the location, Valarie suspected it was worth far more.
"Hey," Valarie said, putting a hand on Alice's forearm, as they marched up to the door.
Alice abruptly stopped on the porch step, causing Valarie to nearly knock into her. She glanced down at Valarie's hand as if she didn't know what it was. "My Mom..." She began. "She won't be okay with, like, us. Not that we're... I don't know. I don't know what I mean. Just... I'm sorry if she looks at you wrong. I've never spoken to her about–uh, me, I guess."
"Never?"
Alice swallowed, her hazel eyes flitting around Valarie's face. "I tried once." She shook her head. "I was twelve. It wasn't good. I don't think she'll say anything, but, like, I'm just sorry. I can't... Fuck." She took two, three heavy breaths.
"Hey." Valarie stepped closer, expectant.
"I... just."
"Alice."
Those hazel eyes finally landed on Valarie. "It's never been just me and her before, except for that weekend with the interview. There was always a buffer–my Dad or Grace or the other girls from ballet."
"You've never been alone with your Mom before?"
She shook her head, going rigid beneath Valarie's palm. "Not really. Probably. I just have a way of... twisting myself out of shape around her. My brain does weird shit."
Valarie tugged on her jacket sleeve. "What do you mean?"
"I know, logically, that I don't owe her much. I know that. We haven't had a relationship in years, but still I don't..." She took a deep breath, eyes rolling up to the overcast sky as she forced out the words. "... want to embarass."
"Who? You or her?"
"I don't–both, maybe. I can't explain it well." She tried to keep walking but Valarie held her in place.
"Try," Valarie said.
Alice laughed, harsh and bitter. "I've been embarrassing to her. I'm an alcoholic. I quit the one thing I was ever good at. Everything she's ever expected of me..." She looked straight ahead into the door's black paint. "I get to look at the people who gave me everything, literally everything, and–and I fucked it, you know?" Before Valarie could even open her mouth to respond, Alice reached out to press the doorbell, releasing herself from Valarie's grip. "It'll be fine," she said. "But Grace better fucking bust a move after this."
