Okay, before you claim to be done with me and this story because of this chapter title, allow me to explain. This is possibly my favorite chapter to date. (I don't even remember what I said the last one was)
First, I find it funny since May rhymes with Gray. Second, I'm very eco-friendly and recycled this idea from another story I have planned. Third, I was going to make this chapter title a play on Aunt May but that only made me think of Spider-Man and technically May is already an aunt because of Kenna's kids.
Photo #53: Fifty Shades of May
Eadlyn knows that when good news was present in the castle, her Aunt May was always the first one to know. Whether it was by a phone call or a visit, May always had her way of knowing when all the best events were happening. She was present at galas, balls, parties, and even the birth of her nieces and nephews.
One of the reasons Eadlyn wished to have a sister of her own was because she saw the bond her mother had with hers and she wanted to experience that herself. Sure, she has a loving bond with her brothers but it will never be the same relationship she could have with a sister. She wanted someone to talk to about girly things, dress up in ballgowns, and even disagree on fashion choices.
The next photo on the wall shows America and May sitting on her bed, looking through an album of some sorts that Eadlyn can't quite make out. Both of their red heads and blue eyes standing out against the dull background.
It just hit her now: Aunt May...Did someone call her? Did someone tell her about her sister's heart attack?
-o-
"I like the Moonstone," America says, holding a swatch of gray paint against the white wall. She tilts her head and closes one eye, testing that perspective before switching swatches. "Or maybe Zine."
America backs away from the wall and takes a seat on her bed. May is already sitting next to her, flipping through pages of laminated paint swatches in almost every color and shade possible.
"What do you think, May?" America asks, holding a handful of paint swatches in May's face. "What shade of gray?" America laughs a little, bringing a free hand to her mouth to hide her grin. "Heh, that rhymed. May, gray."
"Another word that rhymes is nay," May says, pushing away the gray swatches to decline them.
"Neigh?"
"No, not the horse sound. Nay as in no meaning no gray for May."
"Why not?" America asks. "Look at all these shades of gray. There's pearl, silver mist, moonstone, zine, storm gray and so much more."
May yawns. "Those colors make me sleepy."
"Considering that this is my bedroom, being sleepy is the overall goal." America winks, getting back up to take more swatches on the wall to see which looks best.
May continues flipping through the book of paint swatches, suggesting bright pastel shades instead of America's depressing ones.
"Why gray out of all colors?" May questions, with a hint of disgust towards the color present in her voice. "Are you sad?"
"Of course not," America replies, putting her hands on her hips. "Gray is welcoming and comforting. It's warm and enlightening."
"For a cemetery."
"May!"
"What?" May questions, not seeing anything wrong with her statement. "It's true."
America ends up choosing Moonstone for her room. In a way, she compromises with May's options by agreeing to bright colored linens instead. If the walls were going to unarguably be gray, something needed to be eye-popping.
Now that America's done with changing the walls of her and Maxon's bedroom, she moves on to the furniture. America stands by the door, using her hands to pretend to rearrange the placement of all the accessories. She mutters to herself all her options, wondering where everything will look best. She's no interior designer but she knows what her own room should look like. (At least, she hopes so).
May changes her position from sitting on her sister's bed to kneeling on it. She closes the paint book and set it on the nightside table, watching her sister move it to the side. May observes her sister but loses her train of thought when America calls her name.
"Earth to May!" America exclaims. "You okay? Ha, that rhymed as well. May, okay."
"I'm great," May replies. "Are you okay?"
America looks at her sister strangely. "What are you talking about?"
"Why are you changing your room?" May asks. America doesn't reply, needing an explanation for that question. "Ames, you have maids who change your bedsheets and curtains ever so often without you needing to tell them to. You also have the money and the ability to hire any interior designer in the world. My point being, why are you doing the heavy-lofting."
"I am much more than just a crown. Now, help me with this vanity mirror."
May gets off the bed to help. She pushes the matching chair out of the way for a moment as America puts her hands on one end of the dresser. When May has a grip on her end, they both lift and begin moving the heavy vanity set.
"Are you pregnant?" May asks her sister.
America suddenly drops her end of the set. The shock causes May to do the same with her end. May looks at America whose eyes are stunned and wide open.
"Where did that question come from?" America asks.
May shrugs. "Most women crave food while pregnant and I just had a thought that you crave paint swatches. Also, pregnant women tend to nest and I think we're in the process of remodelling your birds nest. So...are you pregnant?"
America begins to blush. "I am not."
May snickers. "Are you sure?"
America's face is almost as red as her hair. "I am not having this conversation with you."
Suddenly, Maxon walks in the room causing both America and May to go silent. As Maxon looks around his under-construction bedroom, May bites down on her lip as if she's trying her absolute hardest not to say a word. America gives her a furrowing frown as her eyes glare at her.
"I love the room so far," Maxon says, giving America a kiss on the cheek.
Maxon lingers for a bit, putting a hand to America's forehead. America looks at him oddly, swatting away his hand.
"Are you sick?" Maxon asks her. "You're burning up."
"She's pregnant!" May blurts out.
"May!" America exclaims.
Maxon's mouth opens in shock. It takes him a few second for his mouth to turn into the happiest smile ever, making America melt in giggles.
"Are you really?" Maxon asks.
America doesn't respond.
All in all, America could be pregnant here. I'm not saying anything and neither did she.
Not gonna lie, this chapter took me 30 mins to type.
I actually had to google shades of gray for this. That sums up my depressing Friday night.
Stay Tuned - "Forgetting something important, darling?"
