@kingdonmicrofic day 12: gold | 340/340 | rating: g
Becca sniffled in the bed across the room, breathing still uneven with upset, even in sleep. In her own bed, Mel snuggled into her mom’s side, blinking back tears that never seemed to fall with an audience. Her mother smoothed down her hair, tugging once on her earlobe, thumb firmly pressed against the gold studs that were still slightly tender from when she got them pierced five months ago. She winced, but didn’t whimper.
You’re always so quiet, her mother whispered. We never have to worry about you.
Her backpack straps dug into her shoulder, shifting uncomfortably in her BIO 313 professor’s office. The bags under her eyes keep growing these days, never enough time in the day for sleep on top of school and Becca and life. With the funeral, she had to miss a week of lectures, too physically exhausted to drive to campus from the apartment that still smelled of her mother’s perfume. It’s understandable why her performance on the midterm was underwhelming. All Dr. Stark had to offer was a bittersweet smile and a knowing look.
You’re a smart kid, he waved off. We never have to worry about you.
Six months into working in Pittsburgh, Mel felt like she was drowning. She worked and slept and worked and slept and nothing else. Every week, she and Becca watched Elf and every week, she’d listen intently to the social dynamics of Middle Hill, living vicariously through her sister’s complex web of friendships to fill the void that she didn’t know she had until a fateful September day. Sometimes, she’d slip up — miss a chart or forget to put in an order. Little things, to see if anyone would notice.
You’re one of our best, Dr. King, Robby assured her instead. We never have to worry about you.
“You really don’t have to do this for me, Frank,” Mel said, hugging her middle tight.
“I don’t know, but you really don’t have to worry about me.”
“I always worry about you, Mel.”
2087
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