Whatever, son!
We arrived at my mother's estate in Denver and Miley scrambled out of the car, eager to stretch after many hours of driving. By the time I joined her side, her head was tilted back, staring at the elegant white walled building before us. There were two storeys and the roof and windowpanes were a gleaming black. While this beautiful home looked expensive and clean, it lacked character. Everything was black and white, lifeless. Even the garden lining the border of the house and the walkway looked fake and I locked my car and moved quickly to the cobblestone footpath leading to the front door.
The black gates straddling the front and back yard had closed behind my car and I already felt trapped. Sure, my childhood wasn't restricting, but maybe it was my freedom that I found restricting, because what I really wanted were some rules to bind me. I was tired of having a life without responsibility and this house was a definite reminder of my lack of self-sufficiency. I only wanted to create art, to absorb myself in what I could produce with just a pencil, but there had to be more. I wasn't a famous artist and would never share my works with anyone outside of my friends and family. Maybe that was what I needed to do: start sharing what I made.
I mean, look at Miley. She had lived a lot like me. She was spoiled, she got whatever she wanted, but, unlike me, because of one mistake, she lost everything and was still able to find stability in her life. That must have been a huge transition for her. That's why she inspired me. If Miley could fall such a long distance and still climb right back up and continue trying, then maybe I could extend myself somehow.
Miley had already rung the doorbell and when I was beside her, Felicity opened the door.
"Hello Lilly and... this must be Miley," she said, smiling kindly.
I hugged her and entered the house, while Miley shook her hand and answered the array of questions Felicity was already asking. She wanted so many details on "the mysterious girl I just let move into my house" but I refused to tell her anything. I was entrusted with Miley's secret and not even my surrogate mother could know what it was.
The floors were tiled and I remembered how much I complained about cold feet during the winter. I would leap onto the black rugs and avoid touching the icy tiles as much as I could. It became a fun pastime during my many lonely hours cooped up in this house. It was almost unfortunate that I didn't abuse my chance to do whatever I wanted. Teenagers would have craved my position.
I exited the hall lined with childhood photos of me, ignoring Miley's giggles when she saw them, and saw Mom lounging in a chair on the decking through the glass sliding doors. She had a magazine on her chest. I walked out onto the deck and realised she had fallen asleep. I was about to shake her shoulder when I caught movement from the corner of my eye. I looked towards the gates of the pool area to find a shirtless man cleaning out the filter of the pool.
I chuckled and the sound startled Mom awake. She sat up from her reclined position and glanced at the pool cleaner, then at me.
"Oh, Lilly! You're here!" she jumped up and wrapped her arms around me. The smell of her expensive perfume itched my nose and I returned the hug.
"Yup, and I believe I found out why you spend so much time outside." I withdrew from my mother's embrace and gestured to the pool cleaner with a smirk.
"Oh, uh..." Mom hesitated bashfully, and then quickly spun around as Miley stepped onto the deck with us. "Miley!"
"I'm surprised you remembered her name," I mocked and Miley gave me a shocked look as Mom hugged her just as she had hugged me.
"It's hard to forget a name you never stop mentioning," she countered and I felt my cheeks warm. Miley smiled at me and I lowered my eyes.
"So, Miley, please tell me how you stand living with Lilly. She's such a lazy girl and I can't see how anyone could be with her for longer than a day."
"Oh, I enjoy living with her," Miley replied, clearly uneasy with how happily Mom insulted me. It wasn't new; we always teased each other.
"Now, now, don't be nice just because she's standing there," Mom said impishly.
"Mom, don't-"
"Goodness, I should show Miley the photo album!"
"No, Mom!" I tried to block her path, but she'd already grabbed Miley's arm and dragged her into the house.
Miley was more than willing to move quickly into the living room. The bookcase was placed in the left corner, opposite the flat screen TV, and the bottom shelf was reserved solely for the many photo albums Mom had kept, most of them filled with pictures of me.
Today was going to suck.
As predicted, Mom embarrassed me ruthlessly. With every humiliating photo, there came an even more humiliating story. I wanted to interrupt several times, but I knew it was useless. Mom would ignore me and continue. The only enjoyable thing about Mom revealing my embarrassing history to Miley was Miley's obvious delight. She laughed often and would glance at me with what I believed to be affection. It caused this extremely light feeling to explode in my chest and I stopped hearing Mom's words for an instant. I anticipated these moments.
However, Mom was only onto the second album when Felicity beckoned me, claiming to need help with something in the kitchen. Miley and I left early so we could share lunch with Mom and it seemed Felicity had been cooking since we arrived.
I stepped into the familiar kitchen and felt a little nostalgic. I remembered how I would watch Felicity cook and share small tales with her. She would never let me help cook, because she insisted that she was paid to do all the work, so I usually kicked back and kept her entertained. I honestly had no desire to cook, but ever since Miley moved in, I started to feel obligated to learn. I didn't want Miley thinking that I was completely hopeless and dependent because I was a rich girl. Well, I didn't like to think of myself as rich. I helped Mom with her work to earn my share and I only ever spent the money she gave me on bills, food, art supplies, and clothes. I didn't like the idea of excessive indulgence.
Suddenly, I realised something.
"Izzy, you never need my help," I said accusingly.
"Sorry. I wanted a way of getting you alone for a moment and that was the first thing that came to mind." She pushed a stray strand of black hair out of her face and smiled slyly.
"What's going on?" I asked sceptically.
"You have a crush." Her tone was a tad mocking and she leant against the kitchen counter.
"...Huh?"
"Lilly, I know you. I can tell that this Miley girl is very special to you."
"Izzy, what I feel for her is wrong."
"Love is never wrong," she said firmly, her eyes fierce. I recognised that sombre expression. She wore it every time she thought she was right about something.
"It is sometimes; she doesn't share my feelings. I need to get rid of them," I said sadly.
"Living with her won't make it any easier, Lilly. You're not a child anymore. What you experience in here," she pointed to my heart, "is going to be a lot more intense."
I groaned and slapped a hand over my eyes.
"This is so stupid. Why does love even exist?" I mumbled.
Felicity laughed gleefully.
"I've missed that little personality of yours. Don't give up, my dear. Miley isn't as disinterested as you believe," she assured.
"How can you tell?"
"Intuition." She shrugged when I looked at her in confusion and she turned to tend to the food cooking in the oven and the salad she was preparing.
I left the kitchen to join Miley and Mom again, only to find them gone. I called out and a voice from upstairs replied to me. I prayed that Mom wasn't showing Miley my old bedroom and raced up the staircase. I found that my room was untouched and empty, to my relief, and followed the faint chatter I could hear from down the hall. The last door to the right was Mom's design room. I assumed she was either showing Miley her latest creations, or seeking "youthful advice".
I entered the room and bingo! Leaning over the drawing board, I could hear Mom asking Miley about the sleeves of a shirt and if the length was appropriate. I wasn't as infatuated with fashion as Mom was, but at least the various balls of paper proved that she worked hard to please her customers. Every month she'd have to supply her business managers with fifteen new outfits, and that was at the least.
Miley probably knew a tonne more about the subject, since she was Hannah Montana and I was certain the pop star had a vast and expensive wardrobe full of nothing but the best clothes money could buy.
I thought maybe I should leave them to it, but Mom glanced over her shoulder at me and said, "Lilly, why don't you let Miley see your room? Lunch will be ready soon, so I'll meet you downstairs," she said, cupping Miley's shoulder warmly before she turned back to her work.
Miley left Mom's side and joined mine, her fingers brushing my knuckles (on purpose?). I smiled nervously, then escorted her to my childhood bedroom, where I spent many hours studying anatomy or the effect of light sources. The walls were a pale yellow by my choice, but I couldn't remember why I picked that colour. Mom said it was because I loved bananas, but I was sure she was screwing with me.
"It's adorable," Miley commented, stepping onto the fuzzy rug and dancing in a circle as she admired every childish thing I left behind. Even as a teenager, I still wanted stuffed animals on my bed (I loved bears) and they still sat there, gazing cheerily at nothing. My oldest and favourite toy was at my house, but I kept him nestled deep in the closet so he would stay safe. I didn't want to expose the little guy to this chaotic world.
"Thanks, I like to think that it reflects me," I replied, padding over to my old desk and opening a drawer.
"You're adorable too," she murmured and my hand froze in its rummaging. I swung my head around to look at her. She was admiring a picture on the wall I'd left my Mom, but there was no doubting her flushed face. She was not only being friendly, but she was flirting with me. Me! The girl who gave her a sloppy inexperienced smooch under the stars. Unable to stop myself, I grinned.
"You're not too bad yourself, Miss Stewart," I returned with undeniable hope flickering in my mind.
