Meanwhile, on the north-eastern coast of the US…
-o0o-
Mud.
Mud was on the floor, on the new dress, on the new shoes. "Honestly…"
"I stumbled and fell," was the bright response, and the scrubbed knees certainly hinted at such. There was also a fairly sizeable streak of mud across her cheek, positioned in a way that it could have easily passed for improvised war paint if not for the colour, and upon closer inspection, there was even a bit of mud in her hair, along with a few pine needles and the odd leaf.
"Really, honey..." Tricia Kamelot sighed, pulling the stained dress over her daughter's head. "What have I told you about playing in the mud?"
"That there's Vanish for that?"
Well, technically, it was called Resolve over here in the States, but… That. Was. Beside. The. Point. Still− "Just get in the bath already, Road. I need to prepare dinner."
"Okay!"
Without another word, Tricia gathered up the dress, making sure to check the pockets and such before putting it inside the washing machine. That said, it was very unusual for her to actually find anything besides maybe tissues, small change, bobby pins and bent paperclips. Though there was that one time when Tricia had found a wedding ring, wasn't there?
"Oh, that one? I found it down the trail and picked it up. Daddy and I are going to turn it in later…"
Tricia had largely left it at that, because why wouldn't she? Road had a keen eye for things that glistened and, in Tricia's mind, an unfortunate love of running through terrain in decidedly unsuitable clothing. It only made sense for Road to occasionally find things during her escapades, and nothing truly untoward had ever happened to her, but Tricia still worried. After all, even if they lived in a decent neighbourhood, there were still woods and a creek nearby and no great secret in the area that Road frequented them from time to time.
Naturally, Tricia had spoken to Road before, on multiple occasions, about stranger danger. She had also asked her husband Sheril to speak to Road, and if possible to also accompany his daughter on any escapades that left Tricia's line of sight.
Fortunately, Sheril seemed fairly onboard with that, even if his usual preferred attire would never have hinted at any sort of interest in the outdoors other than maybe fox hunting on some English country estate. Once, they had been to a Victorian themed party in the neighbourhood, and even the neighbours had readily agreed that Sheril looked rather fetching in such attire, especially so with the monocle. After seeing that, everyone could agree that nothing else really looked as good on Tricia's husband. Simple clothes such as denim and t-shirts had never suited him, and now, even tailored suits left something to desired, at least in Tricia's eyes.
That said, Tricia herself allegedly also looked rather fetching in Victorian dresses, even if Sheril had reminded her not to go overboard with the corset, his thin eyebrows furrowed in earnest concern for her wellbeing. Even now, Tricia could vividly recall his nails; they had been painted black, courtesy of Road wanting to try out new nail polish. Sheril had been visibly unbothered by it, declining Tricia's offer to help him remove it. Instead, he had gone to the party, wearing his black-painted nails with immense pride, complimenting Road's precision and steady hands whenever someone dared to comment on them.
Even now, Sheril occasionally wore nail polish. The neighbouring wives might have tittered a bit and their husbands in turn might have had a thing or two to say about it, but Tricia refused to let this bother her. After all, Sheril was not bothered by it, wearing what others considered to be a blemish on his male pride with such poise Tricia could not help but feel another burst of loving pride. Because it was plain obvious to anyone with eyes that Sheril adored Road, putting her well above anything so fickle as his own pride. No. Road was his pride. Their pride.
Still− "I could do without all this mud…"
-o0o-
Despite her happy family life, Tricia Kamelot was intimately acquainted with hardship. As such, she considered herself lucky, even blessed, to have what she now had; a loving husband and lovely daughter. Granted, there was the pain, which was chronic, and other symptoms. There was also the acute awareness that what she could and could not handle differed from day to day, not by much, but enough to occasionally cause trouble in their daily routines.
Even so, Sheril had never once berated her, save for perhaps the times she had attempted to make light of her condition. Usually, he would just sic Road on her as a distraction and take care of everything while Tricia enjoyed some mother-daughter bonding.
Tricia considered herself blessed, really, and having a family like that was more than she had ever dared dream of, just years prior to now. Of course, now that this was her reality, other thoughts and dreams occupied her mind, even if it was more than a little presumptuous of her to want more than she already had. Still−
Still, there had been times when Tricia wished she could have given her husband another child, because he had so much love to give and Road, bless her little heart, was already spoiled rotten. But even so, Tricia had never voiced it aloud, aware as she was that the thought had not been born solely out of selflessness. No, there was also her own selfish wish to see what kind of child she and Sheril could bring into this world, not because there was anything wrong with Road, but−
She and Road were just so different, both outward and inward. Tricia's hair was fair, whereas Road's was more like Sheril's, dark, but straight rather than softly curled, and more often than not styled into gravity-defying spikes. Granted, Road's skin was still a bit fairer than Sheril's, but still a bit darker than Tricia's, especially in the summer.
Then there was the difference in attitude and temperament. At the very beginning, Tricia had striven to imbue Road with ladylike virtues, wishing Road would pursue virtues such as kindness and modesty over vices such as arrogance and vanity. Well, Tricia had tried, and Road in turn had humoured her, at least to some degree. Even so, these days Tricia strongly suspected that Road cared less about respectfulness and respectability, and more about being respected in general. That said, Road was not a bad child by any means; a bit rough around the edges at times perhaps, but sweet and intelligent whenever she wished to be. But…
It was a silly thing to get caught up on, really, but still, Tricia was fairly traditional and… and…
There were days when Tricia snuck inside Road's room, walked up to the closet, opened the door and just looked inside.
The clothes were clearly divided, not just in terms of colour but also in terms of style. There was the seldom used cute dresses and tops in pastel colours to the right and the darkness to the left. The only common denominator was the frills.
"I honestly don't get it…"
Not for lack of trying though, not exactly. Tricia had actually googled it. Punk-gothic lolita style. She still didn't get it and she wasn't entirely comfortable with the "Lolita" part, unable to completely discern whether or not there was any actual connection in-between the style and the novel by that same name.
The first time around, Tricia had barely managed to hide her horror when Road had pulled her over to that store and picked out a dress that would have been suitable only on Halloween, and barely even then. Tricia had still let her have it though, hoping Sheril would say something about it once they got home. Unfortunately, Sheril had been nothing short of delighted, because as long as Road was happy with the dress, he was more than happy to buy more that were just like it.
Tricia might have been disappointed at first, a little. Now though, she just shook her head in quiet resignation. Because Road was happy, and Tricia could not bear to see the look that crossed her daughter's face whenever Tricia said something untoward about Road's style, be it the outfit or the hairstyle. And really, that hair. Punk, according to Sheril. Sometimes, Tricia wondered whether her husband actually understood anything about "punk" or "goth" or "lolita", or if he just pretended to in order to be supportive of Road. In any case though, he was a good husband, if occasionally a bit too eager to please his adopted daughter.
With a sigh, Tricia reached to turn off the stove.
-o0o-
"Are you sure you're going to be all right, Tricia? I'm sure I can still arrange something for you, if you−"
She put a hand upon her husband's, caressing it. "I'll be fine. The house will feel empty, I'm sure, but it's only a week. I wouldn't want you to fret on my behalf, dear. Just call me when you get there, okay?"
"I'll remind him," Road readily promised, clearly eager to get going. "Do you want us to buy you anything, mother? Souvenirs?"
Well, considering the last time around− "I'd much rather you take lots and lots of pictures. We haven't added anything to the family album in a while."
"Well, we certainly have to remedy that, don't we, Road?"
Tricia watched them step into the taxi and waved to Road when she turned in the backseat. Road waved back. Sheril didn't, but he was clearly occupied elsewhere; this happened on occasion.
Tricia remained where she was, even after the taxi had left her line of sight. Only then did she slowly make her way back inside. Reaching the porch, she stopped and turned, eyes scanning her surroundings. She saw nothing out of the ordinary, but even so, she soon retreated back inside, locking the door behind her.
-o0o-