Page 99 of Turnabout Is Fair Cosplay
“How are you, sweetie?” Dad says, a little too stiffly for my taste. “Mom says you weren’t feeling too hot a couple of weeks ago.”
“I’m fine.”
The lights flicker. “Well.” Dad twists the program in his hands. “We’ll catch up after the play.”
Like heck we will. “Why did you have to bring Dad?”
“Oh, honey. Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom checks her phone before turning it off. “How would I have possibly organized anything like this at the last minute?”
“Hmm.” My mother, perpetually up to something.
“You can sit there pouting, but I wouldn’t recommend it. You’re the only one wearing white. Very easy to spot in this crowd. I’m sure your friend is keeping an eye out for you.”
“Mother, please.”
“Please what? Speak in complete sentences, dear. We’re trying to put our most cultured foot forward tonight.”
“‘My tongue will tell the anger of my heart or else my heart, concealing it, will break.’”
Mom levels me with herStarship Cruiserstare. “I don’t think you’re a shrew, Bea. I don’t think you’re a cactus. And I don’t think you’re happy pet sitting.”
“I’m perfectly happy.”
“I don’t know what is going on and why you still aren’t speaking with your father.”
“Because he told me I wasn’t worth talking to until I came back to work.”
“Oh, nonsense. You ambushed him on his birthday. You ruined his party.”
“I waited an entire week after the party was over.”
“You refused to let him save face at the office by giving a two weeks’ notice.”
Unbelievable. “If I’d known you were going to bring Dad, I wouldn’t have invited you.”
“Of course you would have. You wanted a ride.”
“Can you blame me? I was nearly dead two weekends ago.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The lights die, and the play begins.
My breath catches when I see Mike onstage. In his element. Fantastic timing. Speaking Shakespeare like the lines are his own thoughts. He outshines the Beatrice on the stage. And for the record, it is not lost on me that my sisters and I all share character names from the Bard’s plays.
“Why did you name your girls after Shakespearean heroines?” I ask Mom at intermission.
“I thought it was bougie.”
“Mother.”
“I was an English major before I went to law school. I wrote many a paper on Shakespeare, and not only are Beatrice, Juliet, and Portia intelligent, articulate, strong characters, they’re also beautiful and compassionate.” Mom looks at me. “I didn’t rank my favorite characters and dole out names with birth order accordingly, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Really. You’re telling me that the character who poses as a lawyer and argues like one to save the day isn’t your favorite?”
“Not my favorite. But I do find the association very clever. And I was planning on being a lawyer.”
“Why didn’t you see it through?”
