Lights (2013)

8

The next two weeks my life falls into a routine.

I wake up, take my medicine, eat, leave for work, get home at three, and read in my room until I'm forced to drag my corpse down to eat dinner with my makeshift family. Maybe I'm too hard on them, but at least I talk to Louis over dinner. He's annoyingly happy that I haven't been hanging out with Harry lately, but I can't defend Harry because I myself am mad at him as well. Not mad, per say, just...indifferent. I know he just brings me tears and trouble, yet I can't help but miss his haunting smile and his forest green eyes. I'm too proud to run over to his house and tell him I'm ready to start talking to him, though. And also, I've come to like the endless routine my life has become. Maybe that's just my OCD kicking in.

I hear Jay call me down for dinner and I internally groan. I drag myself down to the dining room where I smell pasta and chicken. My father is already eating along with my siblings, minus Louis.

Oh, right. It's Friday. Louis is at a party.

Shit.

Jay shoots me a hopeful smile as I occupy my usual seat. "I made pasta marinara," she tells me. "Your father told me it's your favorite."

I give her a slight smile and spoon some onto my plate. As if my father would know anything about what my favorites are.

"Blair, where's Harry been lately? I haven't seen him here," Jay says casually.

I blink a couple times before answering. "He's just been busy," is all I can manage to say. "And we've had a fight," I add, surprising myself at the detail I'm providing.

She just nods. "A shame. You two really seem to get along. I wouldn't be surprised if you ended up together."

I choke on my pasta, bursting into a fit of coughs. Lottie slaps me on the back to help me regain my breath.

My dad laughs. "Blair? With Harry? What a joke!"

Jay stares at my father. "What's so funny?"

"They've been best friends their whole lives, Jay, why the hell would they want to date each other? Jesus."

Jay rolls her eyes at my dad and smiles at me. "The heart wants what the heart wants," she simply says and the subject is dropped.

I feel empty without Louis beside me, sending me his playful grins and comments. 

I eat in silence, listening to Phoebe and Daisy chatter on about their summer days spent at the neighborhood pool. Jay nods excitedly at each of their stories and even my dad cracks a smile. It's a genuine smile, a happy smile. I grimace when I remember he hasn't smiled like that so often since before my mother died.

"Blair?"

"What?" I snap out of my trance to see everyone's eyes on me.

"How are you liking the pasta?" Jay asks again.

"Oh, it's uh...great." No one made pasta marinara like my mother.

"I remember you used to gobble that up like it was candy when you were younger," my father remarks.

I grip my fork tighter in my fist. "Yeah," I say through clenched teeth.

"Madeleine made it like a true Italian," he says to Jay who smiles sadly, worry in her eyes as she looks at me. It angers me how she looks at me like that. Like any mention of my mother will send me over the edge.

I've spent so much of my life after my mother died trying to fix myself. With perfect grades in school and a perfect job performance (which is really a "you're doing great, kiddo," from a slightly hungover Shawn), I still work at it every day. Apply my makeup perfectly, make sure my hair looks just so. It's not that I try hard, because I really don't. I just don't want people to judge me for my mother's death or my illness, which is exactly what Jay does every time she interacts with me.