The Bane of Light

Parent Day Pt3

"She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick"- Flannery O'Connor, A Temple of the Holy Ghost

∞

Paris dragged me over to the heart of the crowd, making me slip behind him as he pulled my hand. I used him as a physical shield, hiding behind his towering figure, keeping myself within his shadow. I couldn't manage to blink back the pressure from my eyes as we walked, the slimy feeling of anxiety sloshing through my stomach, making me reel with nausea. It was an intense panic that had seized me, making me want to press down on my hot face and tingling stomach to make it stop.

My breathing was quick and shallow as I attempted to inhale and exhale, expanding my ribcage and letting in gusts of air. I had been staring at our feet, entirely preoccupied with calming down, till we suddenly jerked to a stop. I barely recovered in time to stop myself from slamming into Paris' defined back.

"Mom, Grams, meet the light go my life, Eulalia Opaline Fontaine" Paris announced, squeezing my hand reassuringly, as if that was supposed to make me feel any better. I completely froze, my eyes widening into saucers at his choice of words. He did not just say that. I continued to stand behind him, unable to bring myself to move, like a possum playing dead, hoping that they would just completely forget about me if I stood still enough. I didn't dare breathe.

Paris looked his to his side, trying to shoot me a reassuring smile. His brows wrinkled at my absence, before asking me, "Eulalia?"

He sounded confused, before finally noticing that I was still hiding behind him. His smile instantly reappeared, probably relieved that I hadn't jumped into a shadow. He yanked me out to his side. I stumbled a foot as Paris stabilized me besides him, wrapping his arm around my waist. My eyes widened in horror as the attention of the entire group fell onto me. Paris nudged me encouragingly, as if I was some prized pony he was trying to get to do a trick at the fair. I continued gaping.

A group of four stood before me; two older women with blonde hair, and one younger one, in her twenties. And then, of course, my eyes were assaulted by the flaming red hair of Philippa St James. Her judgmental expression snapped me back into awareness, making me straighten up my shoulders and tilt my chin up audaciously. I cleared my throat, looking up at Paris uncertainly, before looking back to the eldest woman in the group; the matriarch. I had to address the oldest woman before anyone else; it was custom.

"Uhm— hi" I blurted, bobbing into a tiny curtesy. My eyes widened in horror a moment later, as I realized what I had just done. I stood absolutely rigid, my lips pursed tightly.

Paris snickered at me, and I shot him a filthy glare. He coughed, attempting to pass it off as a casual smile. After an eternity of glaring, Paris finally cleared his throat, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he said to the group, "Lia, this is my great aunt, Bellona, but we call her Bon"

He pointed to the weathered woman besides his mother. She had the watered-down, lemony blonde hair of her younger counterpart, and the same heart-shaped face. Crows feet wrinkled the tan skin around her eyes, indicating a long, smile-filled lifetime.

I gave her a tight, strictly polite smile, nodding my head respectfully in her direction. I couldn't muster any words with how tight my throat was. I would surely choke on anything remotely audible. His great-aunt did not seem to mind.

Paris turned to his mother, "This is my mom, although you two have already met"

I stiffened, restricting my breath as I hesitantly met eyes with his mother. She looked exactly like him; same tan skin, same bottle-green eyes, same warm smile and rosy cheeks. She was the female version of him, simply shorter and softer, her body curvy and edges less defined. She looked like she belonged in a sunny garden, planting carrots with overalls and a straw hat on, besides in her stuffy blue dress in the middle of the banquet hall.