Page 32 of Beyond our Forever

“At least let me get inside the house,” I protest, as I bend down to pick up a small gift bag containing something wrapped in red tissue paper, before letting myself in.

“Put your phone on speaker,” she demands, which is a sensible option, because at this rate I’m going to lose my hearing. “Better yet, open FaceTime.”

When I get to my kitchen, I put the mysterious package by the glass vase I put the anthuriums in yesterday, then I dry my hands on the fabric of my pants. I’m nervous and even a little anxious, almost like a teenager.

What will the gift be now?

“What did they leave you?” Emilia yells at me again. “Chocolate?”

“It’s a lipstick,” I answer as I take it out of the little box it comes in.

“That’s weird!” she blurts out and I agree. “At least tell me it’s Chanel or something else expensive.” Typical Emilia, if she could see me I’d be rolling my eyes at her.

“Tatcha, it says here,” I tell her. “Sorry, it’s not your preferred brand.”

She lets out a rather dramatic sigh before replying. “Well, I will say that whoever is courting you has taken great pains, because that’s a very high quality lipstick, no doubt about that. He had to go to a luxury store to get it.”

“Whatever.” That’s the least of my worries. I’m more interested in knowing who sent it.

“Are you going to Steph’s party?”

Now the one who sighs is me.

“I really don’t feel like it.” That is the truth.

“You have to come. Everyone is going to be there and someone has to appreciate your new look. Come on, don’t be boring.”

“That’s my middle name.”

“Ilythia Leighton,” she chides me. “Just be ready, because you’re going even if I have to drag you there.”

“I’ll have to see who can take care of my children.”

That’s a pretty good excuse.

“Leave them with Bruce,” she replies.

“We’ll see.” I end the call before she offers to call Bruce herself to arrange everything.

Just what I need. Not.

I look at my gift in silence, just as I did with the flowers. I research online about the lipstick, from where it’s sold to the name of the color, Parisian Red. It seems like a bad joke to me. Don’t talk to me about Paris, because I’ll only get mad all over again.

Paris was the final straw.

Oh Bruce, what happened to our life?

I wish you would have done things like this before it was too late, then everything would be so different.

I feel like a rebellious teenager sitting in front of the mirror, thinking about painting my lips such a bold shade. It feels forbidden, a temptation for me to fall, to let myself go.

I look at my reflection, thinking about the girl I was, and the woman I became. The old Ilythia wouldn’t have thought twice about having seductive red lips, ready to be kissed. Ready to face life with a smile.

Where did I lose you, Thia?

Where do I find you again?

As I’m about to apply the lipstick, my phone rings, and when my mother’s name appears on the screen, the idea of lipstick is erased from my head.

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