Chapter Text
Sasha clatters down the stairs with all the force of a small, angry, train. Mumbles some goodbye to Gloria, waves at Barbie, and then darts out of the door. She’s getting a ride with Jade this morning, the coolest girl in their grade, cooler than even Sasha apparently.
Jade is Sasha’s best friend . She does skateboarding on the weekends and climbs at the local bouldering gym. She’s got dyed hair and, like, three piercings on her face . Her mom drives a Tesla, which is the sickest thing ever.
Barbie knows all of this because Sasha brings it up, without fail, at least three times a week.
"Is she going to be okay going with Jade? I read that Teslas don't actually really have any safety features and-"
"She'll be okay. After all Jade has a whole three face piercings."
Gloria snorts at that, it's an undignified sound. Barbie, desperately, wants to hear it again.
"Right. How could I forget? Three whole face piercings."
It's quiet in the kitchen, the light still filtering through the blinds. It makes everything almost seem to glow.
Gloria finishes packing her lunch, hands over an identical container to Barbie.
"You've got your test today right? The one on um-"
"It's not really a test, just more practical work. Hopefully it'll be okay. I told you that Alan got me pink scrubs?"
It had taken time before they'd managed to settle into the routine they had now. Initially, Barbie just crashed on their couch, cried a lot , and tried to figure out what to do with her life. That phase lasted for about two months before Gloria, wisely, decided that maybe it was time Barbie considered both seeking out some form of therapy, or medication, or something because she had never really ever seen any one human person cry that much and also that they should start touring colleges in the area together.
Gloria was right on both accounts, as she usually is. Touring the colleges helped a lot and, it turns out, that Barbie was really, really, smart. It hadn't come up in Barbie Land considering that her sole job there was essentially to sit and look pretty.
Mattel had also decided that they would set her up for life, essentially, if she didn't talk to any journalists about the fact she'd been given life, and a vagina, by a ghost that lives on the 17th floor of their office. It was a pretty easy agreement to make. The amount of money was also eye-watering, which didn't exactly hurt the deal. So, college and therapy and medication were all expenses she could manage herself.
She could've, if she wanted to, moved out of Gloria's house and into some sort of swanky apartment. Something that meant she wouldn't be sleeping on a pullout bed in the study.
She never did though. Gloria never asked her to either. Just quietly accepted her into the fold.
The therapist's office was nice, there were fish in the reception area.
Barbie had sat with her hands neatly folded on her lap and explained everything . Everything including Barbie Land because Mattel had agreed to explain to her therapist that she wasn't crazy and Barbie Land was, in fact, real.
Terese had listened to it all, patiently, and decided that it was probably worth Barbie coming in for weekly sessions.
Medicine wasn't something she thought she'd specialise in, Gloria had told her to maybe think about applying to do English or, ironically, Gender Studies.
But Barbie had always admired Nurse Barbie, how she was cool in every situation, knew just what to do, and how her presence alone had provided a sense of security and decided that was the type of thing she wanted to do.
And then she'd thought about Sasha and decided she should go into paediatrics.
Gloria had hugged her almost hard enough to bruise when the acceptance letter came.
Barbie had almost wanted it to. To see proof of imperfection painted on her skin in shades of purple.
And now it's almost halfway through the new school year, Sasha is in grade nine, and Gloria is singing along to Indigo Girls songs in the car on the way to drop Barbie off at college.
They've got a routine, they're safe, they're comfortable.
Gloria and Barbie don't talk about the Thing though.
The shared glances, the quiet touches, the fact that Gloria's husband had left at some point and they'd all just sort of ignored it.
They're inextricably interlinked; they're resolute to act like they aren't.
It's complicated.
The car pulls up.
"I hope it goes well, okay- I love you-"
A beat.
"Love you too, Gloria."
And then she's hopping out and marching across the quad and those words are not playing in her head on repeat.
Jules watches as Barbie writes her notes down, pen bobbing frantically along the page.
"So she just…. Said I love you?"
"Yep."
"And you said what back?"
"I said I love you back."
Jules sighs. Sets her Ipad aside and turns to just stare at Barbie.
"You-"
She says, gently poking Barbie in the forehead.
"-Are hopeless."
"We're best friends, that's enough."
It sounds more like she's trying to convince herself than anybody else.
Jules doesn't even bother to say anything in return, just rolls her eyes and gets back to her work.
Barbie is fine with just being best friends with Gloria, really. They don't need to talk about the Thing. There's been a lot of change already and now things are just getting settled so keeping it consistent for a bit would be good actually.
And Sasha probably wouldn’t want a new step-mom either, she’s fourteen. Kids that age hate their parents normally, let alone step-parents, or new girlfriends. Sasha’s a good kid, she doesn’t deserve to have to feel uncomfortable in her own home-
“I can feel the cogs in your brain turning from here. Shoot.”
“Sasha wouldn’t like me.”
“Sasha doesn’t like anyone , she’s fourteen. She’s angry at the world and confused and hasn’t figured out that that doesn’t mean she’s allowed to be an asshole to people yet.”
“She’s a good kid-”
“I’m not saying she isn’t, I’m just saying she’s also a fourteen year old girl.”
Barbie mumbles something vague.
“Okay, alright, but you know I’m correct.”
She swats at Jules' shoulder.
“Smartmass.”
“Piner.”
They have a family dinner that night, considering it’s a Friday, and it’s Glorias' choice of takeout.
Sasha is talking about how Jade got all the answers right on the maths test, all of them, and when she saw Sasha's score, which was significantly lower but who really needs maths, she'd offered to tutor her.
Barbie and Gloria exchange a look over the top of her head.
It’s a little like watching a teen romance novel play out if the teens in question hadn’t figured out that they were in one yet. Sasha is living with the walking embodiment of a pride flag, because Barbie had realised that when she saw her wardrobe, yet still hasn’t quite managed to join up the dots.
Sasha continues to rant. Barbie chimes in, occasionally, with details about how school is going.
Gloria pushes the food around her plate. Leaves most of it untouched.
The thing about being human is, though, that it’s ugly. It’s sharp, and ragged, and hurts .
The neon glow of the alarm clock is the sole light in the room. The neon glow of the alarm clock reads 3:02AM.
Barbie stares at the ceiling.
Sometimes, it all gets too much. Overwhelming. Her clothes feel wrong on her body. Her head too loud.
It’s one of those nights tonight.
There’s a thought that hounds her, sits heavy on her chest.
It comes awake on nights like these.
When Barbie finishes her spring semester, she and Gloria go out. There’s a film on at the nearby cinema, the fancy, independent, one, not the chain, and they pay an obscene amount to have a bottle of prosecco between them.
Gloria falls asleep halfway through it, her head eventually making contact with Barbie's shoulder.
Barbie lets her. Finishes off the remnants of the prosecco and the majority of the popcorn bucket.
It’s an older film, all shot in black and white, cities rendered in greyscale. There’s some vague plot about love, everything it means.
Barbie knows love already though. Knows it with an intimate, aching, familiarity. Love is sleeping on her shoulder, holding her hand.
Sasha comes out to them, officially and not just by talking about Jade, on a Wednesday evening.
“Can you pass the salt?”
Sasha stares at it for a moment.
“I’m gay.”
Barbie blinks, once, then twice. Looks frantically to Gloria. Gloria who is also looking frantically at her.
“Oh honey , that’s so good-”
“I’m so proud of you Sasha-”
“-and obviously this doesn’t change anything-”
“-such a brave thing to do-”
“Okay! Okay. Jesus. I get it.”
But there’s a small smile on Sasha's face as she says it, the usual bite of her words gone.
Barbie never does get the salt, it’s a sacrifice she’s accepted.
They spend the rest of dinner listening to Sasha talk about how Jade has decided that she’s going vegetarian. Barbie is vegetarian already. Gloria is firmly not.
The debate goes on for nearly an hour.
When Sasha goes to bed, eventually, Gloria starts to wash up the dishes. In the light of the kitchen, the dark circles under her eyes look almost bruising. She’s been more tired recently, Barbie knows that for a fact. Has seen the way she stumbles downstairs in the morning.
She places a hand on the small of her back for a moment before wrapping her arms around her waist in a backwards sort of hug.
“Barbie-”
“Go to bed, I can handle the dishes.”
“It’s alright-”
“Gloria. Please, let me do this for you.”
“Really-”
“Alright. You’ve given me no choice.”
Barbie attempts to lift her up, expecting Gloria to hold firm, remain unbudging.
She doesn’t. Barbie lifts her firmly off the ground.
She’s light. She’s too light.
The kitchen, suddenly, feels very small.
“Gloria-”
“It’s fine, I just haven’t been so hungry lately.”
A beat. Barbie sets Gloria back down.
She doesn’t turn around. Barbie doesn’t let her go either, just wraps her arms around her tighter.
“Really- I just haven't been hungry-”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know-”
“Gloria.”
She can feel the rise and fall of Gloria's chest, every breath she takes.
There's a sick feeling in her stomach, a whirl of anxiety.
“You should go get it checked it out-”
“It’s not anything serious-”
“ Please .”
“Alright- okay. You’re right. I will.”
Barbie rests her head on Gloria's shoulder with that.
“It’ll be okay.”
She watches Gloria with more care after that. It doesn’t do anything to abate the fear that sits in her stomach, wraps its way around her throat.
Studying with Jules helps. Focusing on their textbooks, the clear-cut problems all laid out in a neat size eleven arial font. Barbie can do those, she can assess the question and come to the correct conclusion.
There isn’t a correct conclusion to the Thing though. There isn’t a correct conclusion to the way she’s realised clothes fit looser on Gloria than they ever have before.
The doctor's appointment looms in the future.
Barbie knows it’s an irrational anxiety. That doesn’t make it any less real to her though.
It was Jules' idea to go clubbing. Something about de-stressing, having the proper student experience.
The music is almost deafening. The drinks are horrifyingly overpriced. Barbie has had about four of them already though.
The room spins ever so slightly. The lights pulse.
Jules is somewhere amidst the throng of other bodies. Barbie can't make her out.
She leaves after another half an hour. Slips out of the emergency exit, past the smokers and one desperate-looking hook-up.
Calls a taxi home. Feels a wave of pure almost euphoric relief when she gets in through the front door.
It takes two aspirin in the morning and she's A-okay.
Jules shows up to their lecture in shades, a turtleneck and mismatched socks.
"Do you think you want to try medication?"
"If it would help, I think I do."
Terese hums. Flicks through the pages of her notes.
"I can't make your decision for you but I can forward you the names of some of the psychologists I work with."
Barbie smiles, it's a tentative thing.
"I think that would be good."
"Alright, this time next week?"
"Mhm"
"And keep noting down what triggers the anxiety for me, you're doing a great job so far."
A pause.
"Can we maybe have an extra session next week?"
Terese doesn't press. Just nods her head and starts to look through her schedule.
They're curled up on the couch together for movie night. Sasha's staying over at Jade's so they've got the house to themselves.
Gloria had put on Notting Hill, insisting that it was a classic.
She's mumbling along to the dialogue. Barbie wants to listen to that more than she does the actual movie. The low tones of her voice, silk smooth.
"I like your voice."
It slips past her lips before she can stop it.
"I like your voice too."
Gloria smiles softly as she says it. Reaches a hand across and clasps it with Barbies.
She gets the call when she's in the middle of a lecture, steps out almost immediately.
"Gloria? How did it go? Was it okay?"
"They um- they want to run some more tests-"
She can hear the sound of her professor's voice in the background. The chatter of a group of students as they walk past her. The steady click-clack of keyboards.
The clouds drift by, the sun continues to shine.
The world doesn't stop.
It should, though.
"-probably fine but they said it was worth checking out-"
"Are you coming home now?"
"In a little, yeah."
"I'll meet you there."
"But I thought you had classes today-"
"No. No. The um- the lectures got cancelled."
"Oh."
A burst of static on the line
"Shit. Sorry- nearly dropped my phone. That's okay though, I'll get some takeout on the way. I think I deserve it."
The joke falls flat. Barbie doesn't know what to say. Her tongue sits in her mouth, leaden.
"I'll meet you at home, okay? Okay."
The line goes dead.
The birds outside coo.
Gloria comes home with takeout. Barbie sits by the kitchen countertop as she unpacks it and watches the delicate flex of her hands. The crease in her brow as she tries to wrangle a sauce packet out from the bottom of the bag.
"It's fine. Really. It's just a precaution, probably"
Barbie jolts back into focus. Ignores her steadily rising heart rate.
"I know. It'll be okay."
But take-out doesn't taste as good as it normally does and Gloria looks small, and tired, and all the things she's not meant to look like.
Barbie blurts out:
"The pullout bed is really starting to ruin my back."
It's not what she means to say. What she means to say dangles precariously in her throat like some swollen fruit.
"Oh, right. We'll order a new bed or something, there's a mattress place around the corner that probably has-"
"I was more wondering if we could just share your bed, if you're okay with it. Considering it's a double and all."
Gloria looks at her for a short moment, the beat of a hummingbird's wings. It says everything that needs to be said.
"I'll start moving my stuff?"
"Yeah. Yeah that would be great."
Glorias' bedroom is just very Gloria . There are post-it notes stuck across the closet doors, sketches of Barbie, Sasha, and a few landscape scenes. A vast collection of mugs litter her bedside table. Clothes strewn across the back of a chair.
"I didn't really think I'd be having anyone here anytime soon, I can clean up-"
"No. No. It's fine, it's you."
Gloria blushes, mumbles some quick excuse and flees to the ensuite bathroom.
Barbie just stands and takes stock of it all.
It's a nice room, it really is. It's lived in, well-loved. Not much at all like the sterility of the study.
Some of the post-it notes have vague scribbles on them: "remember lunch", "barbie test tmmrow", "get milk", "remind Sasha to bring project in".
There's one that stands out though. Written in bold red, underlined three times: "don't fuck up". Barbie takes it off the wall, crumples it in her hand, and then throws it out of the window.
Which actually maybe she shouldn't have, because that's littering and littering is bad with a capital B, but it wasn't a nice thing to have in a room full of nice things. It was ugly and offensive and spoke to a side of Gloria that stays nearly hidden.
She doesn't mention it when Gloria returns.
They don't bother to change in different rooms, there's not really any point.
Barbie sees the slope of Gloria's back, the protrusion of her spine and thinks that there has never been anybody prettier than she is at this moment. Lit by the dying light of the day.
They wake up tangled together. Barbie's arm is splayed across Gloria's stomach, her legs tangled with hers, and Gloria has somehow managed to fit neatly under Barbie's chin. They fit together almost too well, nesting dolls in the flesh.
Gloria mumbles something vague, the ghost of her breath dancing along Barbie's collarbone.
It's domestic, it's everything, and feels like they're teetering on the precipice of something . The naming of the intangible, fleshy, Thing that seems to tether both of them to each other.
Gloria goes to get more tests. Barbie doesn't want to press her further. Resists the urge to get every detail, set it out as a problem, and attempt to draw conclusion. It's not something to be communicated through Arial. She wishes it was though.
She gets an Uber with Sasha, drops her off at her school, before going onto college.
Tries to focus on anything but the fact that miles away there's something wrong and Gloria is sitting with it alone.
Jules picks up on it fairly quickly, the quiet, pulsing, anxiety that seems to radiate from Barbie's frame.
They skip class to get coffee. Jules explains what happened at the club which is a story that ends up involving a penguin, Everclear, and a bus.
It's nothing if not distracting.
Gloria gets back home and goes straight to bed. Sasha doesn't inquire. Just shoots Barbie some sort of indecipherable look.
The kitchen feels far emptier without her, the house haunted.
"Jade asked me out today."
Barbie drops the mug she's holding, feels it shatter on the floor.
Sasha yelps.
Barbie grins almost manically before bounding over to wrap her in an almost suffocating hug.
"Jesus- okay. Okay- let go now please!"
"We should get your mom-"
"No!"
A pause. Barbie's eyebrows raise.
"I mean I uh- I wanted to ask you for your advice."
Sasha is determined to avoid eye contact. Scuffs her shoes on the floor.
"Because what if it goes wrong? And she doesn't like me anymore when she starts to gets know me better? People are going to look at us differently. I don't want- I don't want to lose her because I thought I was good enough to date her when I'm probably not because she's so cool and I'm not. I can't-"
"Oh. Oh, Sasha -"
She sniffles. Wipes her eyes.
Barbie approaches her slowly and cautiously. Kneels down until she's making eye contact with Sasha. Rests a hand on her shoulder, feather-light.
"Caring about people is scary. It's so, so, scary. You're such a brave kid, okay?"
"...okay."
"But being with Jade doesn't make you feel scared, does it? It makes you feel better, it makes you feel better because you know you care so much about someone who cares the same amount about you. That's not going to change when the nature of your relationship does. It's just going to adjust and grow."
Barbie takes a breath.
"Don't miss out on things just because you're worried about how they're going to turn out, you can't predict the future."
And then, ever so quietly, Sasha says:
"Thanks"
Barbie stands, ruffles her hair.
"Go get 'em."
Sasha tells Gloria a few days later. Gloria is almost ecstatic . Her face lit up in a way Barbie hasn't seen for a while now.
They confer over the kitchen table. Barbie stands at a distance, knows that this is a moment for them. Wonders when the test results will return.
Tap, tap, taps, her foot against the tile.
The stark white walls of the pharmacy seem to reduce the space. Make it seem otherworldly. Barbie fiddles with her hands. Watches the queue move forward slowly.
There's an older woman in front of her. Her hair is slate grey.
Her hand is curled around a cane. Barbie can see each individual vein stand out on her skin. The gnarl of her fingers.
It's beautiful.
It's frightening for the first time too though, the vulnerability that comes with age. The natural progression of human life.
The woman shuffles forwards. Picks up her prescription with a few muttered words.
Regards Barbie as she turns away from the counter, gives her a ghost of a smile.
Barbie smiles back, all white teeth, all true feeling.
"Hi, yeah- um I'm here to pick up a prescription for sertraline. Barbara Roberts?"
Gloria is sitting at the kitchen table. Her eyes are red. Her hands are shaking slightly.
The phone sits, discarded, to the side of her.
"Gloria?"
"It's cancer."
The world doesn't stop.
It should, though.
"They're um- they're saying it's cancer."
The words sit in the air between them, heavy. Seem to swell until they take up every bit of space in the house. Hang over Barbie's head like the blade of a guillotine.
"Gloria-"
"I don't want to talk about it. I just need time to figure it all out-"
Her voice trembles, she trips over the words as she says them.
"And just think about what to do next. Okay? Can we just- can we just leave it for tonight."
Barbie wants, desperately, to cross the distance between them. To take up residence in the beat of Glorias' heart, tuck herself away there. Never leave her side.
It's surreal. It's the type of thing that happens in soap operas and TV shows. It's not meant to happen to them .
And It's so fucking unfair. It's wrong and it's unfair and it's something she can't manage to articulate. Something that wraps around her chest, choking.
"I don't think-"
"Honey, please ."
It's a whisper of a thing. It's quiet and desperate and vulnerable and drives itself straight through the soft part of Barbie's heart. Leaves it punctured.
"Okay. Okay. I um- for tonight. Do you want to just go to bed then?"
"Yeah. Yes, that would be nice."
Glorias' hands fumble with the clasp of her bra. She lets out a huff. Barbie gently places a hand on the small of her back before unclasping it for her. She just wants to help , to be able to do something in the face of it all.
Gloria pauses for a moment before slipping a shirt on. It's a band tee or was considering the lettering is now so faded it's almost impossible to realise it's anything other than a plain shirt.
And then Gloria turns to face Barbie. Her face is bare, makeup stripped. She starts to say something but stops. The words seeming to catch in her throat. There are tears brimming in her eyes, they gather there like drops of silver.
Barbie, heart pressing itself up against her ribs, places a hand on her jaw, a feather-light touch, and kisses her.
Gloria lets out a soft oh sort of sound. Kisses her back.
And then she's pushing Barbie down, down, down, against the mattress and the tears are drip, drip, dripping down her face as she does.
They don't say a word to each other. They don't need to. It's aching and desperate. It's intimate and vulnerable. But there's a moment when Gloria tilts her head back and Barbie can see the hollow of her throat. The delicate lines of her collarbone, how it stands out from her skin.
And all she can think is that they can never come back from this.