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“I can’t do this on my own,” Stevie admitted; shame stabbed through her chest. Mr Rose considered her words, glancing between her and Ray. As bad off as the Roses were, they had each other.
Stevie hadn’t had a family in a long time. Maureen had been the last person to care for her, in her own twisted, bitter way. Stevie had thought maybe some of her more skeezy relatives would come out of the woodwork for a piece of the estate, but no one had so much as called.
“Well, what if you had a partner?” She knew it could only be out of self interest, but she needed someone. The books where a fucking mess. Maybe they wouldn’t be, had anyone bothered telling her this would all be her responsibility one day. The weight of it settled in her chest; she felt a little short of breath every time she looked at the pile of paperwork she needed to sort through.
Selfishly, she wanted the Roses to stay. When they were around, complaining and fighting and invading her space, it almost felt like she had a family again. Stevie threw herself into Mr Roses’ arms. She didn’t sell.
Stevie curled up sideways on the couch. Alexis set a hand on her knee, smoothing it over her thigh as she offered vaguely insulting reassurances. Stevie was so scared they were going to leave her, but she had no right to ask them to stay.
Panic had welled up in her, watching Alexis flit around Ray while Mr Rose tried to look like a normal human being for once. It was ridiculous and charming; it made her long for more time with them. She wanted to be more than a footnote on their journey to renewed success.
“Stevie, whatever decisions we make, we make them together,” Mr Rose said, settling in the chair next to her. “Nobody’s gonna leave you behind.” That, historically, had not been the case. Everyone had left her. She wanted so badly to believe him.
“Can I get that in writing?” she asked. If she couldn’t protect herself from her own fucking feelings, at least she could protect the business they had built together.
“Yeah.” Mr Rose said, smiling softly at her. It was the same look she had seen on his face when David had learned how to ride a bike. “We can do that.”
“Okay, I’m so excited for you to see this,” Alexis said, hands curled around Stevie’s arm. People didn’t touch her often.
“This would’ve been much more of a surprise if I hadn’t heard the construction all morning,” Stevie said. Then, she was pulling off the blindfold and her breath caught in her throat.
“See, Stevie, we’re both up there now,” Mr Rose said, pointing up at the sign as if she had somehow missed it. Alexis was practically vibrating with her excitement. Stevie glanced up at Mr Rose exactly once, eyes welling with tears at the understanding on his face.
“Kids, say hi to your mother,” Mr Rose held out his phone. Stevie hovered in the doorway, unsure if she was welcome.
“She’s not my mother.” Stevie said it to remind herself, mostly.
“Who are those voices?” Mrs Rose asked excitedly. She couldn’t quite differentiate between them, but much like the hybrid crow she was embodying, she seemed eager to attend to their squabbles. Stevie wasn’t quite sure if she was a baby bird or the chewed up worm in that metaphor.
“Uh, your children,” David scoffed. He included Stevie, sliding one of his mother’s beloved wigs on her head.
“Well, you dazzled tonight, sweetheart.” Mr Rose was beaming at her.
“Thank you,” Stevie said. Embarrassment flooded her as she realized Mrs Rose spoke at the same time. “Oh, sorry, I don't know why I thought you were talking to me.” She flailed a bit, but Mrs Rose slid an arm around her waist, tucking Stevie against her side. She felt like she belonged.
Mrs Rose chided her husband into complimenting their performance. Hers had been the first face Stevie had seen clearly after her song had come to an end. She had looked proud. They both did, Stevie realized.
“Why ever would we need to do that, John?” Moira asked. “Certainly our bébé girl is knowledgeable on such topics.”
“Alexis is with Ted,” he reminded her as he lifted a pair of her sleep pants from the basket, folding them neatly.
“She is not the Rose to whom I was referring,” Moira said, flicking to the next page in her magazine. “I was speaking of our dour, young Stevie.”
“Right,” Johnny said slowly, “sorry, honey.”
“Well, someone needs to get their ears checked.” Moira scoffed, “ Alexis , really, John. We might as well inquire with David while we’re at it .”
