Thanksgiving passed in a haze of relatives she didn’t particularly want to talk to and food she didn’t particularly want to eat. Her mom put her hand to her forehead several times throughout the day and looked her in the eye.

“Are you sick?” She repeated with a grave tone.

Eliza didn’t know how to respond. Her mom was a doctor, but this wasn’t the type of “sick” she thought could be fixed with an aspirin and some bed rest.

“No, mom.” She responded stiffly. “I’m just tired.”

And she was. Eliza wanted to lie in bed until her thoughts cooled into an empty ocean and her heart stopped aching like something in her chest had been scooped out with a shovel. Eliza helped mash the potatoes and strip the corn and add cheese to every other dish like her aunt instructed.

They asked her about school and boys and future plans and it set Eliza’s teeth on edge. She glanced at her phone every few minutes to check if Mickey had broken her silence for just a moment. To see if she missed her. To see if her note had worked and she’d forgiven her.

Eliza sighed at her screen repeatedly when nothing new showed up. She had a stress headache by the end of the night as her mom placed a hand on her forehead for the fifth time. “Are you really feeling alright?”

Her eyes was creased in concern and her mouth was twisted into a tiny pinched dot. They sat in the living room as the crowd of family thinned and they had a moment alone. Eliza had spent the evening stuffing herself with black beans and dry turkey and trying not to talk too much.

She simply shook her head. “I’m not . . . great.” She relented but couldn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t like she could tell her mom that she had accidentally spied on the girl she liked and now the girl wouldn’t date her anymore.

It’s not like Eliza could be honest.

Her mom rubbed her back in small circles like she did when Eliza was a kid and used to get nervous before going to school every day. She rubbed the same circles before Eliza's swim practices and talent shows and her first sleep over.

“It’ll pass.” Her mom kissed her temple and ignored the fact Eliza was wiping at her cheeks and trying not to openly sob.

She spent one night in her childhood bed, looking up at the ceiling, and feeling as small as ever. She lay among her torn out calendar pictures of horses, old misshapen trophies, albums of indie mix CDs from middle school, and the last of her childhood stuffed animals. She took deep breaths. She checked her phone again.

She had no new messages.

---------------

Eliza spent the entire rest of the next day helping her parents clean up and telling them mumbled stories of the school year and brief summaries of her thesis.

It passed in a blur of movement and her parents shooting concerned looks between each other. It was only when she was packing up to be brought back to her apartment that her dad stepped forward, “Here.” He said. “To help.”

He passed her a bent pink tulip that was only slightly crushed.

Eliza blinked several times as if coming out of a deep fog. “What’s this for?” She took the tulip in hand. It looked like it was from their garden somewhere outback.

Her dad shrugged and gave a sneaky smile. “Flowers.” He nodded, “cheers up any problems.” Her father never did recover his “faith” after his own mother passed away, but he had a strict belief system surrounding the restorative properties of nature and growing things. Their house had always been dotted with potted plants and cactus and tiny hanging ferns.

Eliza took a deep breath and smiled. “Thanks.” She tried to say without wilting herself into a puddle on the floor.

“And cheers any heartache.” He wagged a finger in the air as if he knew something and Eliza rushed forward to hug him.

The ride back to the apartment was quiet and neither of her parents knew what else to say to her until they dropped her off.

“Keep working hard.” Her mother pet her hair and tucked it behind her ear. “You make us so proud.”

Eliza mustered a weak smile.

“And call home more often!” Her father chastised before hugging her again and they both left Eliza to her own thoughts. Her world felt raw and vulnerable as she watched them drive off and the gulf between them kept growing.

She mechanically turned around and went upstairs with her thoughts still dark dregs and the ache in her center not any less than it had been before. She dragged herself to her door and closed her eyes with a soft exhale.

She placed her head on the door before swinging it open and pushing herself through. It was dark by then on the Friday night after Thanksgiving and Eliza’s pulse raced. She was almost disappointed when the kitchen was empty.

She sniffed. Mickey might not even come back. She thought and her head hung down to her chest. She placed her little overnight bag against the wall and went to go crawl into bed.

She froze when someone sat up on the couch and stared at her.

“Ah,” She made a soft noise as Mickey looked back at her with a considering look. She was wearing a button-down shirt and nice slacks with a smear of makeup over her eyes. She was holding Eliza’s letter.

They exchanged a long breathless look before Mickey pointed at her hands. “What’s that?” She asked roughly and Eliza looked down to see she was still holding her dad’s rumpled flower.

“A tulip.” Eliza rasped, and then took a few clumsy steps forward. “Here.” She offered it impulsively to the other girl.

Mickey regarded the flower coolly. “Why?”

Eliza frowned. “An apology.” She said in a small voice she felt like she was using often recently. “And . . . something nice for you.”

Mickey tentatively reached out and took the pink flower and brought to her chest. It was sagging and Mickey gave a shallow smile. “So,” she announced and there was almost some warmth returned to her tone. “You want to put on a show for me.”

Eliza took a step back as if struck. “I want to make things right. To make them fair."

Mickey gave her a sly look and held up the note. “Oh?” She asked softly, “And you think being my camgirl will fix things?”

Eliza gulped and shifted from foot to foot. Mickey had stated it so bluntly. “I think . . . I’d like to try.” She met Mickey’s eyes and for once she didn’t look away again. “I feel terrible about everything.”

Mickey sighed heavily as if she was releasing some wailing ghost from her chest. “I don’t want you to feel bad.” She said and shook her head. “I’ve liked you too, you know.”

A beat passed with different emotions thrashing around within Eliza.

She likes you! She likes you!

She said it in the past tense…

“And now?” Eliza ventured boldly.

Mickey touched her lips thoughtfully. “It’s complicated.” Some hurt shone in her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t like mixing these two parts of my life. I’ve done it before and it didn’t end well.”

“I understand.” Eliza gave a short nod.

Mickey’s expression softened. She slowly unfolded her limbs and stood up. She looked back down at the crushed tulip and then back up at Eliza. “You’re sweet, though.” She spoke with a rumble from deep in her chest.

Eliza gave the barest smile. “I wish things were different. I wish I hadn’t . . .” She pursed her lips together painfully. “I’m sorry.”

Mickey reached for her like a sailor searching for land. “Listen,” she said quietly. “I don’t want you to see me as just, I mean, as just that type of girl. As only that.”

“I never did!” A shiver of energy up through Eliza's spine.

“I know.” Mickey let her arm fall back to her side. “So maybe, maybe,” Mickey looked down toward her feet. “I’ll think on it. Finals are coming up in three weeks,” She breathed. “And I don’t want to move out just yet.”

Eliza stood up straight. “I don’t want you to leave.” She said quickly, “I don’t just think of it as like, a sexy doll or whatever.”

Mickey let a laugh like rusty chimes and it was so nice to hear. “A sexy doll?” She rolled her eyes, “Three weeks.” She said with a glimmer of amusement in her gaze. “And I’ll think on it.”

“Can I, um, help change your mind?”

Mickey shrugged and held up the tulip. “This is cheesy is hell,” she said factually. “But I don’t think I’ve ever been, I don’t know, romanced before.”

Eliza beamed. “I could do that!” She burst out far too loudly. She lowered her voice. “I could do that.”

Mickey smiled at the floor before starting to edge past her to her room. “Good.”

“And then?” Eliza murmured as Mickey passed.

“Well,” Mickey put a hand on her shoulder and her lips brushed her ear. “I’m not opposed to you being my camgirl either.”

Eliza’s mouth hung open and Mickey let her go and ran back into her room like her heels were on fire. Eliza was surprised she didn’t pass out from lack of air after that. She turned around and around in confused circles before collapsing into the nearby armchair.

She had never romanced someone before, but she had wooed hundreds of Sims on the computer. How hard could it be? And then they could see what that meant after the three weeks were up.

Eliza closed her eyes and smiled to herself. She could show Mickey that she meant to keep her. And maybe Mickey would want to keep her too.

-----

When she woke up the next morning the tulip was placed in a little vase by the window with a straw holding up its bent head.