E is for Elena

8 Adoration

"This is foolish," I muttered to myself, throwing down the comb I had been using in an attempt to remove the crust of dried mud from my long blonde locks. I huffed in exasperation, shoulders slumping as I stared at myself in the mirror.

Don't wrinkle your forehead like that, you'll get lines, I could practically hear my mother's voice in my head. I pushed my chair back and stood. Placing my hands on my hips, I began to pace.

"This is the boy who spilled communion wine on you at your confirmation," I muttered with another huff of frustration. "He broke your toys, pulled ribbons from your hair, and stomped on your feet. You promised to hate him forever."

I whirled around, leaning over my vanity table to stare into my own eyes in the mirror behind me.

"So why are you feeling like... this?"

I sighed, plopping back down into the chair, staring down at the comb with flecks of mud sandwiched in the teeth.

"He's your brother's best friend," I reminded myself, much more quietly this time. "He's practically a part of the family. Your parents basically raised him. Your father is going into business with him. You- but doesn't that mean he's grown up?"

My eyes flicked back to the mirror.

"Like you have."

My cheeks burned.

I wonder if that little girl is still in there somewhere, buried deep inside you even now.

She is. She's the only part of me still dedicated to hating you.

"I know I've just worn a plum gown," my mother's voice interrupted my thoughts and I turned, wiping tears from my eyes that I hadn't even realized had gathered, to find her entering my room with a brand new dress in hand, staring at the fabric instead of even glancing my way. "But Sadie just sent this over and it's absolutely fabulous. What do you think?"

She held it up in front of her and I nodded dutifully.

"It's beautiful, mother," I told her.

"Thank you, dear," she answered with a smile. Just like that, it seemed we had both decided to forget our latest spat. That was always the way of it. No matter how serious our fight had been, we would always take some time apart to decide not to discuss it when we came together again. Now, she moved to my closet, throwing open the doors and stepping inside. "Now, for you."

I watched her sliding gowns aside, flipping through the dresses hanging on the various bars inside as one might flip through a catalog.

"Mama," I said after a moment. She didn't so much as turn to look at me when she made a sound of question. "I know that I haven't been debuted and this isn't a pressing matter of discussion but I know how picky you've been about who Alexander sees so I thought... well, I wondered... is there anyone you've chosen for me?"

She paused, hand hovering over a lemon yellow gown I hadn't yet worn this season. When her eyes met mine, they were searching. After a moment of hesitation, she seemed to surmise that I was not joking and so she smiled kindly back at me before answering, "I've a few suitors in mind."

"Like who?"

"Well, to be frank, I'd thought of Daniel Abbott. His family is respectable and I've seen you look his way a time or two. But the way he approached you a few weeks ago, and you not even debuted, I'm not so certain what I think of his character anymore."

I nodded.

"Who else?" I asked.

"Well," she replied, thoughtfully, resuming her flipping through my gowns as she answered, "Timothy Locke."