I hate these kinds of things. Parties, social events and gatherings, all of it. The crowds, the staring, the looks of pity to my parents that I know they get, but they’ll never say anything. 

“Oh, poor Carl and Mindy Malcom, having to raise their retarded daughter. Such a shame they’ll never be rid of her, never enjoy life without her. You know, they ought to put her in a home for people like her where she can get full time care and Carl and Mindy won’t have to feel so burdened…”

A burden…

I heard someone actually say that once not long after I got hurt. That I would now be a lifetime burden for my parents to bear. If they heard it, I don’t know. They’ve never treated me any differently. Which is part of the problem…

They’ve never treated me any differently. I’m still a kid to them, still a rambunctious and impetuous teenager who throws temper tantrums every now and then. I haven’t thrown one in a while, of course, but that doesn’t change anything. 

I’m forever fifteen.

My name is Windy Malcom, I’m twenty-five years old, I live in Redbrick…

My name is Windy Malcom, I’m twenty-five years old, I live in Redbrick…

My name is…

“Well, don’t you look spiffy!” 

From the bathroom where I’m finishing my makeup, my mother’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. Good thing, too. They’re about to get dangerously dark again.

“I do my best,” Harley says in his playful, self-deprecating way. 

I grin and my chest relaxes. Harley’s here. 

I won’t be alone at this thing. No one will have a reason to stare. I have Harley.

I hear Mom say I’m still in the bathroom finishing up and he says that’s fine. My phone buzzes. 

Hurry up, Mindy’s falling in love with me.

I snort and respond, I’m still ugly, give me a minute.

I can feel his exasperation wash through the house like a tidal wave. He doesn’t have to say anything, I just know. He’s not the only one who can beat up on themselves. I have a PhD in this shit.

I snap my makeup case shut, twist my head back and forth, tuck a loose tendril of hair that’s fallen from my curled top bun, and, satisfied I look decent enough for the public, step out of the bathroom, wavering just a little in the heels I’m being forced to wear.

They’re talking in the living room when I make my appearance. “I’m ready,” I mutter.

Harley looks up and his eyes go wide, his jaw dropping as he looks me up and down. My gaze drops and I feel my face heat up, my fingers fidgeting around my handbag. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it still feels weird. He’s never seen me dressed up like this before.

I’m wearing a slim back dress that flares out from the waist. It’s sleeveless and off the shoulder with a red sash tied in a bow around my waist. The shoes are kitten heels, so they’re not very tall, but they’re still uncomfortable. My makeup is simple, just enough to make my eyes pop out. Mom spent over an hour curling my hair to put it up in an updo with ringlets falling free around the sides of my face and the back of my neck. I even got my nails done for this stupid thing, short stilettos with glitter paint and a jewel on each ring finger. 

I feel like I’m going to prom.

“I’m not a bug,” I mutter weakly.

“You look nice,” he says. 

My fingers grip the thin fabric strap of my bag and I do a tiny dip. “Thank you.”

He chuckles softly. 

I look up and take him in. He looks good, too, in a dark blue suit and black male corset in a steampunk style. He’s getting away with it because it doesn’t look outlandish and actually fits with the occasion. His hair, cut and clean, is combed back, and he shaved. His shoes are polished and glistening, and most likely very uncomfortable. 

Good. I shan’t suffer alone.

“You clean up well, too,” I say with an admiring smile. 

Mom and Dad also look very nice, my mom in a long, black evening dress down to her ankles with sparkles throughout, her hair done up like mine; Dad in a black tailcoat, white shirt, and red waistcoat. His salt and pepper hair is trimmed short and stylish. 

“Am I not handsome, too?” he says, putting on an air of false offense.

I roll my eyes and kiss his cheek. “You look amazing, Daddy,” I say. 

“So do you, cupcake,” he says, rubbing my back. “Both my girls do.”

Mom chuckles, her softly painted lips turned up in a smile. “Alright, let’s get going. I’d like not to be late for once.”

She and Dad walk out the door first and Harley and I follow after, his hand gently guiding me at my lower back like a proper gentleman. It’s hard not to notice how large he appears in his suit. I wouldn’t say he’s beefy, but he’s definitely built, as well as grossly tall.

But then I barely hit five foot three and petite with curvy hips. Of course he’d look like a frickin’ giant next to me.

Dad locks up as we pile into the SUV.

Harley leans over and whispers, “I feel like I should have brought a corsage.”

“This is embarrassing enough without one.”

He laughs softly and plants a small kiss behind my ear. “I actually did bring you something.” He digs in his inside jacket pocket and produces a small rectangular box. Dad is already driving down the street when I open it and my eyes go wide.

“Harley!” I breathe. “They’re beautiful!”

He grins. “Thought you’d like those.”

“When did you get them?”

“Yesterday when I was out getting this ridiculous thing,” he says, waving his hand at his suit. “Mindy told me you used to wear earrings when you were a kid but stopped a few years ago.”

There’s a reason for that. One she’s well aware of. Still, there’s no way I can hate this pair. They’re a pair of soft iridescent green luna moths. Small dangly earrings that won’t smack me in the face as I move.

I smile at him. “Help me put them on?”

“Sure,” he grins and picks one up, unclasps it and gently inserts it into the hole in my earlobe. I do the other one and pull my pocket mirror from my bag to admire them. They really are beautiful.

“Thank you,” I say. I tap Mom on the shoulder. “Look what Harley got for me!”

Mom turns and she beams. “Oh my, they’re gorgeous!” She reaches around to touch one. “They definitely suit you. Very nice, Harley!”

He laughs. “I had to make sure my date was the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Hey now, pal, them’s fightin’ words,” Dad says, taking my mom’s hand and kissing the back of it. “My lovely lady is going to be the talk of the town tonight.”

She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips deadens the pretended annoyance.

It’s then I notice the faint scent wafting off Harley. It’s subtle and woodsy, something I’ve never smelled before from him. His usual scent is rum and cigarettes. I tilt my head. “Are you wearing cologne?”

He nods. “You like?”

“It’s nice!” 

He chuckles. “Robin got it for me for our seventh anniversary,” he says softly. He swallows. “Today.”

My eyes widen. “You never told me when that was.”

He shrugs but doesn’t say anything. I place my hand in his and rest my head on his shoulder. “Happy anniversary,” I whisper.

His fingers slowly curl around mine. “Thanks.”

*