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A party.
Sasha wants to go to a party.
Not just any party, though. A high school one, because she is in high school now. It’s at some kid’s house—some kid that her parents have never even heard of, mind you—and it’s tomorrow night.
“Tomorrow?” Gloria says, wiping down the dining table. “As in, tomorrow tomorrow?”
Sasha rolls her eyes, knowing her mom is trying to stall. “Yes , Mom. What other tomorrow is there?” She taps her fingers a little impatiently on the polished wood of the table; a quirk she gets from Barbie. Her nails are painted a dark color, and for some reason she seems so much older now, than she was back then. When she was tiny and squeamish, five years old with the ticklish toes, struggling to stay still on Barbie’s lap as the blonde painted her little nails.
Gloria can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of her lips, though she suppresses it. She knows she’s being a cheeky pain. “You’re asking for permission kind of last minute, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t know about it until today.” Sasha defends, which is a lie. She had known about it all week, truthfully. She just didn’t know if she really had any desire to go. That is, until her friends had said they wanted to, and—
Well, you know how those things go.
“Uh huh,” Gloria replies, in a tone that lets Sasha know she doesn’t quite believe her.
“Ugh, come on, Mom. Please ? All my friends are going.” Sasha presses on.
“Really? No way.” Gloria says. “Sooo, if your friends jumped off a cliff—”
“Oh my GOD! ” Sasha lets out quite possibly the loudest groan of her life, ditching her efforts here and walking briskly over to the kitchen. “ Moommmm! ” She calls out to Barbie on her way, dragging it out until she bursts in.
Gloria follows behind her, laughing.
Barbie scrubs at the dishes, unfazed. “What is it, my sweet, innocent child? Is your mom torturing you again?” She faux-laments.
“Yes!” Sasha crosses her arms, settling into place right next to Barbie, by the sink. “She won’t let me go to the party tomorrow!”
“Babe.” Barbie looks up at Gloria, and for a second seems serious enough to the point where Sasha thinks she might have a shot. “Can’t you see how tormented she is already? How could you?” It’s obvious, though, that Barbie’s poking fun at her daughter’s melodrama, and the teenage girl groans again, as her parents laugh once more, this time together.
“You guys are the worstttt,” she whines. “You’re making me regret even asking. I should’ve just snuck out.” She huffs.
Barbie snorts. “Yeah, see how that would’ve gone. What time’s the party?”
“7:30.”
“Yeah, your mom would have had a search group out by 9.” Barbie shuts off the faucet, throwing her wife a puckish grin as she wipes off her hands.
“Okay.” Barbie leans on one hand, against the sink, her demeanor straightening a bit like the way a parent’s does when they mean business. She feels Gloria curl into the back of her, arms circling the blonde’s waist, chin angled to rest on Barbie’s shoulder. “Who’s going?”
“Everyone.” Sasha provides, unhelpfully. She knows her parents are asking if they can trust the crowd that will be there. “All my friends. Jade, Cloe, Yasmin. A couple of girls from the team. Some from debate.” She lists off, hoping the mention of some familiar faces from lacrosse and debate club will help seal the deal.
“Who’s driving?” Barbie follows up with.
“Jade said I could go with her and her brother. They’d pick me up.”
“Jade driving?”
Sasha shakes her head. “No, her brother.”
“Mikko? The junior?” Gloria clarifies.
Sasha nods.
“Will he be drinking?” Barbie asks.
Sasha’s face flushes, like she has been caught with something, even though nothing has even happened. “No, of course not. He’s seventeen. And driving.”
Barbie narrows her eyes. “Will you be drinking?”
If possible, Sasha blushes even deeper. “ No , Mom! I’m sixteen!” This feels a lot like a test, and Sasha needs to pass.
“But there will be alcohol?” Gloria fuels.
“N-no!” Sasha fumbles, her hands sort of flailing about. “I don’t know! I’m not the one throwing the party! Plus, I don’t know how they would even get it!” She scowls, in a way that reminds Barbie a lot of Gloria when they were younger, and the two adults share a look.
“Oh come on , you guys. Don’t you trust me?” Sasha whines in frustration.
“It’s not that we don’t trust you , honey.” Gloria sighs. “It’s just that we don’t know all these other kids…”
“Okay, well, still!” Sasha argues. “Trust me enough to not be worried about that. I’m not stupid, I know the rules. Don’t take drinks from anyone, try not to wander around alone, always have my phone on me.” She looks at her parents like Right?
Barbie and Gloria share another look, a silent agreement seeming to unfold between them.
They might have been liberated of the initial turmoil of what was teenage curiosity, with Sasha having gone her entire freshman year uninterested in attending said-amateur house parties, but she was sixteen and a sophomore now, and they couldn’t hold her down forever.
Barbie sighs. “We’ll think about it.” She needs to be strategic with her response, she knows, so as to not give the impression that she is immediately giving her daughter whatever she wants, while also not looking like she is the bad guy who is denying her outright. It was no secret that she was the more lenient one of the two, in between herself and Gloria, but still. Sometimes she just needed to play it up.
Sasha is smart, though, and she knows the game. How We’ll think about it is basically code for Yes, but give me some time to help your mom feel better about it first. And the sly little wink that Barbie gives her pretty much confirms this, so Sasha bites back a triumphant smirk, and keeps her mouth shut.
Gloria, for her part, is smart, too, obviously. And she lets herself yield, with a gentle sigh that exhibits her sense of mild resignation; she knows they will say yes to Sasha, tomorrow morning probably, and how in the meantime it’s only a matter of letting her fretting be appeased by Barbie.
That was okay, though. Barbie always listened to her. And if Gloria truly had a problem, she knew that the blonde would let her have the very last word of the matter in a heartbeat, while also feeling quite the same way. Barbie was tolerant, but it wasn’t to be mistaken for her not having boundaries within reason. She was a mom, too, after all.
She and Gloria both wanted Sasha to go out and have fun, of course, but they also had their reservations. Especially when it came to such a thing as this. It was just going to take a bit of mutual reassurance, that was all.
“Did you finish your physics homework?” Barbie questions the teenage girl, who is still lingering in the kitchen.
“No,” Sasha leans against the island countertop, dropping her head into her hands with a yawn. “I was tired after practice and I was thinking I could just do it tomorrow during lunch or something.”
“Hmm, I don’t think so, missy.” Barbie tuts, stretching a long leg over to gently kick her daughter in the direction of the stairs. “Go bring it down, we can work on it together.”
Sasha groans, but, with a roll of her eyes, obeys, nevertheless.
Gloria takes this as an opportunity to check in with her wife, plucking a washed grape out of the bowl they have and popping it into her mouth, giving Barbie a look.
“You really think she’s not going to drink?” She asks, with a small tilt of her head.
Barbie kind of chews on her bottom lip, thinking.
“I don’t know. Peer pressure can be a terrible thing…” The blonde responds, with a sigh. “But… I do trust her.” She steps up to Gloria, kissing the top of her head. “Don’t you?”
“Of course.” The brunette says easily. “You know how virtuous she can be. Not to mention how stubborn she is.”
“Mm,” Barbie’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Both things she gets from a certain someone I know.”
Gloria looks up at Barbie with a playful glare. “Well, if that’s the case, and we’re going by inherited personality traits, then maybe I should be more worried, shouldn’t I?” She retorts.
Barbie laughs, knowing full-well that Gloria is referring to Barbie’s younger days, where she was more or less of a wild party girl type. And, well… if Sasha was going to mimic that… now would be the time and place it unlocked, wouldn’t it?
…
Oh, god… Gloria thinks, in the wake of her joke. She can’t help but imagine a drunk Sasha, and she is mortified . Sasha, giggling and nearly falling over, and having to call her parents to come pick her up. And—
Oh, god , this was going to end badly, wasn’t it?
Barbie throws her arm around Gloria’s shoulders, though, and, in a moment, the thought becomes fleeting, and is gone.
For now.
***
Jade and Mikko are picking Sasha up at 7:30.
Not that Sasha is planning on them being there at 7:30, on the dot , or anything; she is not lame , like that, obviously… but…
Well, let’s just say she’s on the couch by 7:20, leg bouncing rather anxiously, fidgety hand scrolling through her phone, her other one playing with the skin of her lips, where she occasionally nips her teeth at a nail or two, in passing.
“Honey, stop biting your nails.” Gloria reprimands softly, tugging Sasha’s hand away from her mouth as she walks past her, back into the living room from the kitchen. “You’re making me nervous.” And she’s already desperately trying to keep her cool.
“Sorry,” Sasha murmurs distractedly, not even looking up from her phone.
Gloria does a double take when she looks up and sees Barbie nearly in the exact same position, the blonde biting absently on her fingernails as she lays sprawled out on the couch, watching TV.
Gloria shakes her head. “You too. Stop it!” She smacks her wife’s hand away from her mouth, to which Barbie gently yelps.
“Sorry,” she says, not looking away from the TV, but wiping her finger off on her pants.
“Ughhh,” Sasha whines, looking at herself in the Snapchat camera. “Jade’s on her way already, but I kinda wanna redo my makeup.” She angles her face this way and that, trying to decide. She had gone with a standard look for tonight, baggy jeans and a cute long-sleeve top, with platform sneakers. Her makeup was light, mainly focusing on some eyeliner and lip shimmer, the latter of which she had borrowed (more like snatched up and stolen, really) from Barbie.
“You can retouch if you want,” Gloria says to the teenager, from the spot she takes at the far end of the couch, with Barbie’s feet settled on her lap. “But I think you’re just restless from your excitement.” Her voice is soothing, and she takes a sip from her wine glass. “Relax, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, kid. Stop worrying, you look great.” Barbie reassures offhandedly. “Especially since I helped you pick your outf— dude, there’s no way you’re gonna get that plated in time, you have one minute.” She says to the contestant on the episode of Chopped they are currently watching, with a disapproving shake of her head, as if they will see or hear her.
Sasha sort-of chuckles, just as Jade texts her. “Oh, they’re here!” She shoots up from her seat. Her attention looks like it is on five things at once: fixing her hair, smoothing out her clothes, pocketing her phone, rushing to the door, going to say bye to her parents. Gloria can’t help but smile in amusement.
“I look okay?” The young girl asks, and she actually feels kind of horrible, for still being and appearing sweet and a little insecure in front of her moms, considering what she’s about to do, because…
Well, you’ll see.
“Yes. You look beautiful—” Gloria reassures her.
“Great, thanks!” Sasha almost cuts the last syllable short entirely, the sudden weight of guilt creating a pit low in her stomach that she feels she needs to run away from. “Bye!”
“Woah woah woah! Not so fast,” Gloria chides, getting up from her seat. “Honey, I’m gonna walk her out.” She says to Barbie.
“I’ll come with!” The blonde invites herself, getting up from the couch and following suit, even if her eyes remain a little glued to the screen as the contestants are in the middle of having their dishes critiqued, her footsteps more or less guided by muscle memory and Gloria’s fingers gently intertwined in Barbie’s own.
Sasha’s half-hearted mutter of protest dies in her throat, and she quickly paces to the front door, getting there before either of her parents do. She whirls around to face them.
“Okay, this is it! Bye!” She gives them a quick hug, very obviously trying to ditch them, right here, altogether, while they’re all still inside .
Gloria scoffs; she understands Sasha doesn’t want them to “embarrass” her too much where her friends might see, but seriously? This was Jade ! They knew Jade already! She had been over countless times before!
Gloria chalks it up to Mikko being there, though, as well as the fact that this is Sasha’s first time of ‘going out to a party where my parents aren’t the ones dropping me off,’ and so she lets it slide.
“Have fun!” Barbie bids with a cheerful smile, as Sasha yanks open the front door and starts trudging out. “Love you!”
“Be safe!” Gloria calls out.
“You know the rules!” Barbie adds.
“Text us when you get there! And when you’re leaving!”
Sasha waves them off, like Yeah, yeah , not looking back at them as she marches across the front lawn and onto the curb, getting into the backseat of Mikko’s car.
“Hey!” Jade greets her.
“Hi.” Sasha tries to sound somewhat normal about the whole thing, but it comes out as more of a half-grumble anyway, her hands a little slippery as she tugs on her seatbelt. She feels deeply nervous about the whole thing, now made entirely more real by the fact that she is in the car.
“Ready to go?” Jade asks, and Sasha doesn’t know how her best friend is able to stomach looking out the window and waving at Sasha’s parents. Although she supposes yeah, it would be easier, when you’re not the one who will have to be facing them afterward. Particularly with the knowledge of what you were about to go and do behind their backs.
But still. How was Jade not nervous? Or slightly guilty?! Sasha considers if the roles were reversed, about how she wouldn’t be able to probably even look at Jade and Mikko’s parents, even for a moment, if she had orchestrated such a plan as the one for tonight. No matter how fool-proof it seemed.
Did that make her uncool?
Unable to afford any more of these hamperings making her anxious, Sasha brushes the thought away. And, not wanting to seem too suspicious, she forces herself to turn and look out the window, giving her parents her best smile and a wave goodbye. Even if her stomach does crawl the whole time, and especially when Gloria blows her a kiss before taking another sip of her wine, Barbie’s tall figure standing beside her, as Mikko starts driving the three of them away and the front door of Sasha’s house begins to close in the distance.
“How far is this place again?” Jade asks her brother.
“Like 30 minutes inland,” Mikko replies. “By the time we get back to the city and to the party, it’ll be like 8:30, which is perfect!” He drums on the steering wheel excitedly, turning the music up a little bit and smiling at Sasha through the rearview mirror. “You ready?”
Sasha’s heart hangs low in her stomach. For a moment, she remembers all the times either of her moms have smiled at her like that, through the rearview mirror while they were driving somewhere. All the times she gave a playful roll of her eyes while trying to hide her own smile. It’s funny how all those moments catch up to her, so suddenly. She thinks of how her parents are not too far behind; how she could have just as easily been staying in with them, curled up on the couch or in her room, spending the evening with them doing nothing and yet achieving everything, perpetually fulfilled as long as she had them at her side.
But she can’t exactly show that now. Or voice it aloud.
So she musters up her best smile, and sits up a little as if she is jumpy with excitement.
“Yeah,” she assures. “Let’s do it.”
The sound of her mom’s pencil scratching gently along the page, mid-sketch. Her other mom’s quiet humming as she stands over the stove, conjuring up some post-dinner dessert treat that is somehow, weirdly, always good. The TV playing some cooking or baking show.
The whole time, the trepidation gnaws at Sasha.
The whole time, she can only think I’m sorry.
I regret this already.
***
It takes all of 15 minutes for the mini freakout to settle in.
Barbie is in the middle of poking her fingers into the dough of the bread she is making. Focaccia, to be specific, so the consistency is a bit on the wetter side, shiny with a bit of olive oil she’s smeared atop of it, as well as bubbly from the way it has pushed up in some spots where she has been kneading it. It’s a pretty purpley color, almost lilac, and she’s quite happy with the way it’s turned out, given the fact that it’s more or less of a creation she has come up with herself.
Hopefully it tastes just as good, too.
The oven is just about done preheating, so she takes out the container of homemade, sweet cream cheese filling she has in the fridge. Like the kind of filling you put on a cheese danish. She scoops cold spoonfuls of it onto the dough and pairs it with some globs of blueberry jam, before putting the bread into the oven and cleaning up.
“I’m trying out the recipe for the focaccia bread I’ve been telling you about,” she says to her wife, who she believes to still be in the living room. “The sweet one with the blueberries. I don’t know if it’ll turn out okay, since I haven’t ever tried to make it sweet, but I think there’s a good shot! Plus, it’s a pretty color, so at least it’ll look nice.” She snorts. When she doesn’t receive a response, her face furrows a little in confusion. “Babe?” She prompts, strolling out of the kitchen and toward the living room.
Only to find it empty.
Hm .
Barbie goes upstairs and into her and Gloria’s bedroom, where she finds the brunette, pacing about.
“Hey,” She says, stepping in with caution but also concern. “What’s up?” She drops into a seat on their bed. “You left me talking to myself down there.”
“Sorry honey,” Gloria dismisses distractedly, her hand coming up to run through her hair. “I’m just…” She exhales heavily. “What if this was a mistake? Letting her go out?” She stops pacing, looking at her wife with a worried expression. “I mean… she’s never been out of the house like this. To a party , with a bunch of kids she doesn’t even know. That we don’t even know. And I doubt there are going to be any chaperones there. And at someone’s house ?!” She rambles frantically, pacing again.
Barbie stands up. “Babe…” She gently tries to soothe, her hand coming to rest on Gloria’s shoulder.
“It just happened so fast , you know?” Gloria goes on. “She asked for permission so suddenly, and-...and… I couldn’t think of a proper excuse. Ugh, we should’ve just told her no.” She sounds exasperated as she huffs. Barbie puts her other hand on her wife’s other shoulder, and Gloria comes to a rest there, pausing and shutting her eyes for a moment to sigh, seeming to deflate.
“Okay, love. C’mere,” Barbie gathers Gloria into her arms, guiding them both over to the bed and plopping down on it, situating herself to lay against the headboard with Gloria on top of her, her head on Barbie’s chest.
Barbie strokes her slender fingers through Gloria’s soft brown locks. “What’s really going on?”
Gloria sniffles into the blonde’s shirt, hands curling to tuck beneath Barbie’s warm torso as Gloria hugs her close. “I don’t know…” She murmurs. “This is happening too fast. All of it.”
Barbie hums in understanding. “You mean Sasha growing up?”
Gloria nods. “I don’t like it. Why couldn’t she have just stayed a baby forever?”
Barbie chuckles. “You miss the late nights with her refusing to go to sleep? The tantrums when she didn’t want to take a bath?”
“I do now ,” Gloria replies, seeing it all in hindsight. “Remember when she used to get up early in the mornings and come to our room? So she could wake up with us?”
“How could I forget?” Barbie reminisces. “She’d squish herself in between us and shove me away so she could have you all to herself. I’d wake up with her little feet kicking at me, or her hand slapping at my face.” She smiles.
Gloria giggles at the memory, the emotion dwindling in that painful way when you realize how the time has gotten away. She sighs softly. “At least, back then, she needed us.”
Barbie’s face twists into a sympathetic frown. “What makes you think she doesn’t anymore?”
Gloria shrugs. “I just… She’s going to parties now. And driving around with her friends. I mean, seriously, her own driver’s test is coming up in a couple months! And what if she starts dating? Pretty soon she’ll barely wanna even be home, or hanging out with us. And who knows what she’ll be up to?! What if she’s running around, wreaking havoc and getting into trouble? Drinking? Smoking? Getting tattoos? Vandalizing property? And if she’s in danger?! How would we even know until after the fact? We’re not there!”
Barbie can’t help the small laugh that ripples through her, and Gloria smacks her on the chest.
“It’s not funny!” The brunette whines in protest.
“I know, I know! I’m sorry,” Barbie digresses. “I didn’t mean to laugh, it’s just… gosh , you’re so riled up.” She hugs Gloria a little bit tighter, hand massaging gently along the curve of her wife’s spine.
“How are you not ?” Gloria accuses.
“Are you kidding?” Barbie rebuts. “I’m losing my mind here. I just hide it a lot better.”
“Clearly.”
Barbie chuckles. “I’m terrified, you know.” She exhales softly. “All those things that you said scare me, too. Worry me, too.”
Gloria rubs her cheek affectionately against Barbie’s shirt. “Really?”
“Of course they do,” Barbie reiterates. “But… I have a lot of faith in her. And trust. I know she has good judgment, and she’s wicked smart. She knows right from wrong, and you know she won’t take shit from anybody.” She states, blunt and sounding quite proud. “That’s what I’m choosing to try and focus on. I believe in her so much. And in us, too. We’ve raised her well. I know that, and you do, too.” She gives Gloria’s hip a gentle little squeeze, and rests her chin on the top of Gloria’s head. “You’re just freaking yourself out since this is all so new.”
Gloria sighs softly, taking Barbie’s words into careful consideration and letting them take refuge inside. “I know, honey.” She relents. “I know.” She sighs again, softer this time. “You’re right.”
Barbie hums quietly, continuing to pet Gloria’s hair and giving her a couple of moments to herself, to breathe and say anything else she might need or want to.
Gloria relaxes into her wife’s embrace, letting herself be lulled by the blonde’s loving touch.
“I’m making that sweet bread I was telling you about,” Barbie says, after a bit. “The blueberry one. It’s in the oven, should be done soon. I could make some of that milk tea you like, to have with it? And we could rent that one movie you’ve been wanting to watch that just came out on demand. What do you say?”
Gloria smiles softly, tilting her head up to look at Barbie. “That sounds really nice.” Her shoulders sort of drop, in a way that shows she’s relaxed. She presses a blind kiss to the inside of Barbie’s forearm. “I’d love that.”
“Yeah?” Barbie smiles. “Okay. Perfect.” She brings her hand around to stroke her thumb across Gloria’s cheekbone, simply admiring her for a second. Then she leans down and presses a kiss to the brunette’s forehead, her next words being a soothing whisper.
“She’s always gonna need us, baby.” She says. “Always. Just maybe not in the ways we’ve been used to. But she’s not going anywhere, I promise you.” She places another gentle kiss on Gloria’s forehead, resting her cheek there afterward.
Gloria closes her eyes in bliss, surrendering to Barbie’s voice.
“Everything’s going to be okay.”
***
Her mom is going to kill her.
(If she were to ever find out what Sasha was about to do, that is.)
So I guess now, all there’s left to do is just hope that she doesn’t, Sasha thinks.
That’s not so bad, right? That’s the whole reason they’ve driven this far in the first place, according to Mikko. To make sure they don’t get caught.
“The guy at this place never cards,” he explains, pulling into the parking lot of the dingy liquor store in the middle-of-nowhere town they’ve driven to. “My friends and I have come here a bunch of times before, for parties.” He parks the car and turns to look at Sasha in the backseat. “The good stuff’s in the back aisles, behind the freezers. I told Jade which ones to get,” he beckons to his sister with his head. “She has it on her phone. So you two will go in and I’ll stay here as a lookout.” He takes a quick glance around, noticing they’re the only ones in the entire lot, making this seem like it will be a breeze. “Sound good?”
Despite having had the entire car ride here to try and calm down, Sasha’s heart still thuds in her chest, hands clammy in her lap. She drags her palms down the front of her jeans, as if wiping away the dampness will subsequently take all of her anxiety along with it.
“Yeah,” she accepts the plan anyway, because what else is she to do? They’ve already driven all this way and gotten this far. She can’t back out now .
(No matter how much she may want to. Ugh.)
“Yeah, okay.” She exhales.
“Don’t worry, we got this!” Jade encourages. “C’mon,” she opens the passenger side door, prompting Sasha to get out of the car as well, and the two of them head into the store.
“Trust me,” Jade loops her arm in Sasha’s. “If Mikko’s dumbass can get away with it, anyone can.”
Her snide jab at her brother makes Sasha laugh lightly, which does help ease some of the tension she is still harboring, and she’s momentarily appeased.
Keyword being momentarily.
Because it, of course, does not take long for something to happen and the entire thing to go awry.
Sasha and Jade have been gone for not even five minutes when Mikko sees it: a cop car pulling into the parking lot. Right up to some donut shop just next door to the liquor store, and only made worse by the fact that it’s a pair of policemen, with one of them heading into the shop, and the other waiting outside for him, sitting at a table where they will presumably be enjoying their little snack.
In very close proximity to Mikko in his car, and with a clear line of view as to who’s coming in and out of the liquor store.
And Mikko is usually pretty cool, believe him. But then again, he is usually not 1) the ringleader of having his 16 year old sister and her best friend illegally buy alcohol, and 2) driving his Mom’s car with a license that is already suspended—a fact that he has kept hidden this whole time.
Really, he didn’t think these things would be important! Certainly not when it was supposed to be such an easy grab-n-go with no qualms, and then they would be back in the city, where he knew the streets and ways to get back home even with his eyes closed.
And he of course does not mean to panic … But the officers are literally right there , and he can see them looking at him out of the corner of his eye, and even if this is not true, well it still feels like it, and he can’t have Sasha and Jade coming out of the store and into his car. Or at least the one he is driving , unlawfully so, might he add! And if the officers question Sasha and Jade’s ages?! Not only will they be caught being underage, but then so will Mikko, and paired with the fact that he is driving with a license that is not valid?! There was being ‘royally fucked,’ and then there was this .
So, in a moment of sheer fight-or-flight instinct, driven by pure adrenaline mixed with fear, Mikko catapults literally the worst series of actions that he possibly could have into motion, which results in the absolute nightmare of a misunderstanding and predicament that Sasha consequently finds herself in.
He puts the car into gear and backs up, trying desperately not to drive too haphazardly so he doesn’t attract the police’s attention, but still taking his leave quite frantically, and it all happens so fast.
From inside the store, Jade sees Mikko speeding off. And, very unfortunately, her instinct is to panic in return. Because they’re in the middle of nowhere , in a town she and Sasha are entirely unfamiliar with, which is already terrifying to begin with, but then also they’re knowingly committing some misdemeanors, which already makes them feel like they’re on the run, and their only way out is now LEAVING ?
“Mikko!?” Jade says anxiously, running out of the store, a bottle of liquor in her hands. “MIKKO!”
“ JADE !” Sasha chases after her, not thinking through it at all , her heart hammering in her chest at suddenly being left alone in the store, with two bottles of alcohol in her hands and that uneasy feeling still swimming around in her stomach.
“Hey!” The store clerk reprimands them. “Stop! Come back here! THIEVES!” He calls out, as the two teenage girls run outside.
Sasha stumbles to a stop, bumping into Jade on the sidewalk, the two of them watching Mikko turn the corner and disappear, their attention splitting to then refocus on the two policemen who have stood up from their seats, having heard the liquor store worker’s yelling.
“Ohhhh shit …” Jade mumbles.
Sasha’s eyes widen with horror, the severity of her situation hitting her all at once as soon as she sees the two men in uniform.
“Evening, ladies.” One of them says casually, looking rather amused. “You pay for those?” He gestures to the bottles in their hands.
“I-...” Jade stammers; she and Sasha share a split-second look. “W-we were just about to, really!”
“Uh huh,” the officer continues. “Mind if we take a look at your IDs before you do?”
Sasha’s heart sinks.
“I, uh–... I don’t… have one…” She manages to get out.
The officer raises an eyebrow at her, seemingly still playing along, and Sasha kind of wants to punch him, beneath all her dread right now.
“You don’t have one?” He pesters.
“N-no…” Sasha reiterates. “Well… I have my, uh…” She trails off, accepting the defeat of being caught red-handed, her face burning with shame.
“Your…?” The officer prompts.
Sasha clenches her jaw in slight irritation. “My…” She shares a look with Jade. “...School one…” She mumbles, barely coherent.
The two policemen sigh.
“That’s what we thought,” one of them says. “Nice try. Now put your hands where I can see them.”
Her mom is going to kill her. That’s all Sasha can think about, as she’s twisted around to have her hands placed behind her back, handcuffs clasping around her wrists, until she is eventually escorted into the back of a cop car, where she and Jade are taken down to the police station.
Every step of the way, it’s the one thought that is relentless. When she’s put into that weird overnight jail cell, for a few minutes. When she’s on the verge of tears, mixed with a pot of roiling anger that rumbles in her chest: at the cops, at Mikko, at Jade, at herself . When she’s so nervous and scared her teeth are chattering and her hands are shaky. When she’s picking up the police station’s payphone, being allowed one phone call. When her fingers are dialing the number.
The whole time; that’s all she can think.
When the line is ringing. And Barbie picks up with a “Hello?”
Yeah. Her mom is going to kill her.
***
Barbie and Gloria get out of the car with the thud of their doors slamming shut, Barbie quickly locking the vehicle as she and her wife walk up to the entrance of the police station.
The police station that their daughter is being held at, apparently.
“I can’t believe this,” Barbie hears Gloria mumble under her breath, her hair a little disheveled from how she has been running her hands through it exasperatedly, during the entire drive here. She walks a little bit ahead of the blonde, her steps in shorter, more rapid strides, as Barbie tries to keep up with her, hands stuffed in the pockets of her overcoat amidst the chilly evening weather.
They get to the doors, and Barbie reaches around, in front of Gloria, to pull one open for her, holding it so her wife can step inside. Then she follows in, close behind, and they approach the front desk.
“Hi,” Gloria greets the receptionist, still with a polite smile and tone, though maybe a bit clipped—understandably so, given the circumstances—as she pushes some hair behind her ear in an anxious habit. “We received a call about our daughter being here in custody?”
“You two here for Sasha Handler?” A sheriff butts in, just then, from the hallway beside them, and Gloria and Barbie turn to look at him.
“Yes!” Barbie responds first, to which the sheriff nods.
“Right this way, ladies.” He beckons down the hallway, and Barbie takes the lead in following after him, reaching out as she passes by to take Gloria’s hand into her own.
“Are you two her parents or otherwise legal guardians?” The officer questions as they walk down; he sounds almost bored as he asks, and Barbie can’t help but wonder if this is because the case of Sasha’s arrest is something so trivial, or because he’s so used to these kinds of incidents that they don’t faze him anymore. And honestly? Barbie doesn’t know which answer she prefers. If the arrest was so trivial, then why did it need to happen? If these things were so common, how much longer until Sasha was a part of them?
(She already is, apparently.)
“Yes.” Gloria answers on their behalf. “Yes, we’re her parents.”
“Wonderful,” the officer guides them around a corner, and there, a few feet ahead, is Sasha, sitting on the floor of her makeshift prison, looking bored and blank, with her head leaning back against the wall.
She perks up at the sight of her parents, her eyes going wide.
“Mom!” She exclaims, clambering up from the ground and surging forward. Her hands close around the metal bars of the cell, clutching at them, her face almost pressed into the cold poles and nose poking out in between two; Gloria beholds the sight, and swears that it is one she never wants to see again.
“Sasha!” Barbie and Gloria exhale in relief, lunging reflexively toward the teenager, their hands overlapping Sasha’s own.
“Oh, baby, thank God you’re okay,” Gloria takes in Sasha’s unscathed appearance, a huge weight falling off her shoulders. As if Sasha getting arrested automatically equated to her being covered in bruises and scrapes and cuts, from a fight or brawl or something.
It was a possibility, okay? Gloria’s just glad it doesn’t seem to be the reality.
The sheriff takes out his keys and unlocks the cell, letting the young girl out, and she is immediately rushing forward and hugging her moms. Gloria can feel the way her daughter is shaking with what she can only imagine is fear, clinging to her tightly. And for a moment Sasha is five years old again, afraid of loud noises like the blare of an oncoming train; of the faces of monsters like the ones she’d seen in a nightmare; the one that made her run to her parents’ room with quiet tears dripping down her face, her stuffed bunny to her chest; that made Barbie scoop her up, off the big scary floor, and into their bed, where she tucked Sasha in and Sasha curled up, to Gloria, and refused to let go. Barbie kissing her little face, wiping away her tears, gently shushing her, whispering words of comfort. Barbie subsequently spending night after night, just before bedtime, checking under the bed and inside the closet and bathroom for monsters. Sasha only ever being placated if one of them stayed with her until she fell asleep. Barbie laying on the floor, pillow beneath her head, telling Sasha silly stories to keep her mind off of it and hear her sleepy giggle. Barbie buying her daughter a little star projector night light, because Sasha adores astronomy and the pretty sight helps lull her to sleep, monsters long forgotten.
Gloria hugs Sasha close, hand coming up to hold the back of her head; they are nearly the same height now, and Gloria’s heart kind of pangs. Barbie lays her hand over her wife’s, bending down to give Sasha a kiss on the crown of her head, her other arm pulling Gloria in so the three of them share a brief group hug.
“Your daughter was caught trying to steal alcohol from a liquor store just around the block.” The sheriff details, as the three women sort of break apart, though with Gloria still holding onto Sasha. “I’ll need one of you to stay behind to fill out some paperwork for her release, but aside from that, you’re free to go.”
Barbie nods, casting a glance at her wife and daughter. “Alright!” She sighs. “I can fill out the papers, you two go wait in the car.” She hands the keys over to Gloria, noticing Sasha still leaning into her, and she silently hopes her daughter appreciates her final moments on the receiving end of Gloria’s concern, before it is to switch over to anger, probably.
“Okay, c’mon,” Gloria breathes out, guiding herself and Sasha out of the station, while Barbie follows the sheriff and gets started on filling out the few, required forms.
It’s not a lot, just requiring some basic information, and Barbie’s done in a few minutes.
“Here you are,” she says as she hands the papers over.
“Thank you,” the sheriff accepts them. “Now… the store clerk isn’t prosecuting, not that I believe he’d be able to, anyway. But aside from that, the bail is $25, so… just between you and me?” He takes a quick glance around, sighing and dropping his voice a little lower. “Look, your daughter seems like a decent kid, alright? I’m gonna let this one slide. Just keep her out of trouble, won’t you?”
Barbie’s body sags with relief, the prospect of this entire incident not going on Sasha’s record doing wonders to alleviate her stress.
“Absolutely.” She breathes, reaching out to shake the sheriff’s hand in gratitude. “Thank you, Officer. Really.”
“No problem,” he responds. “You ladies take care and have a good night now.”
“You too, sir.” Barbie bids, and then she leaves the station and heads to the car where her family waits for her.
***
True to Barbie’s suspicion, the car ride home is where the initial relief slash concern slash sympathy starts to ebb and trickle away, and the lecture of it all begins to pour out.
“I mean, seriously , Sasha. Stealing alcohol?!” Gloria rambles furiously. “It’s bad enough for you to be drinking. Or stealing. But the two of those things combined?!” She gives a shake of her head, clearly disappointed and at a loss. “We’re just lucky the whole thing was dropped.”
Sasha listens to it all from the backseat, not trusting herself to speak. She’s not sure what she even feels right now; a strange combination of everything, she supposes. She is angry, and wants to scream out everything in her defense. I didn’t even want to go. Or do it. Nobody is listening to me. But there is a terrible lump in her throat, the kind that burns at the top, at the tip of it, and makes her eyes sting. Like if she tries to speak or say anything , she’ll start crying, even if she doesn’t want or mean to. And it’s fucking infuriating . Why are hormones and feelings so stupid and complicated like this?!?
“I just can’t believe you,” Gloria goes on, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t understand. I don’t even know what to say to you.”
“Obviously you do, since you’re lecturing me.” Sasha mutters it before she can stop herself, because if she can’t do herself proper justice, at least she can defend herself this way. Moody and stubborn and defiant and horribly teenager-ish.
“Don’t talk to your mother that way,” Barbie now gets involved, giving Sasha a stern look through the rearview mirror. “I may not be saying as much as her right now, but don’t think I’m too happy with your little stunt tonight, either.”
Sasha grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms and looking out the window. “Whatever.”
“No, it’s not ‘whatever!’” Gloria shifts around in her seat to look back at the teenager. “Do you even understand what you did, Sasha? You were arrested!”
Of course I fucking understand, Sasha thinks. I don’t need you making me feel any more guilty and ashamed than I already do. I felt all those things as soon as I took a step out of the house. But how was I supposed to know?
“I have half a mind to ground you for the rest of the year and not let you play lacrosse this season,” Gloria turns back to the windshield, debating.
“What?!” Sasha whips her head around to look at her mom. “You can’t be serious! That’s totally unfair!”
“Oh, and it’s not unfair that we had to drive all the way over here to come bail you out?” Gloria fires back.
Sasha huffs, shoving herself against the backseat in irritation. “Look, I get it! Okay?! I messed up! It was a mistake! ” She tries to reason. “But you guys have always said that I should never have to be punished for my mistakes! Your words, not mine!”
“Yes, when those mistakes are honest ,” Gloria argues. “But you knew what you were doing was wrong! You knew better, Sasha, and you still did it! You’ve never pulled anything like this, and I don’t even know what to think anymore.”
“UGH!” Sasha’s anger begins to boil over and get the best of her, frustration mounting in her chest at her inability to say everything she wants to. “You’re being such a jerk!”
“Sasha, quit it.” Barbie warns.
“You didn’t even bother to ask me what happened! Or hear my side of the story!” Sasha says angrily. “You automatically just assumed the worst of me, when it was a misunderstanding!”
“Look, we’re all a little on edge, so why don’t we just wait until we’re home to talk about all this, alright?” Barbie tries to mediate. “The important thing is that everybody is safe and okay.”
“You see?!” Sasha scoffs with disdain. “You won’t even listen to me!”
“Honey, I will. Believe me. But you really need to calm down right now. Please just breathe.” Barbie desperately tries to remedy; she can feel the tension thickening and building in the car, and she doesn’t want it to get to a breaking point they will be unable to come back from.
“We should have never given you permission to go out tonight,” Gloria says. “I should’ve known you weren’t ready.”
“Me?!” This comment is the tipping point for Sasha. “ I’m the one who isn’t ready?!”
“Sasha, don’t.” Barbie tries to stop it.
“It’s you that can’t let me go!” Sasha ignores her, lashing out at Gloria. “All you ever do is try and pretend like I’m still a kid!” Her words and accusations are so misguided; the inkling is there, even in her own chest, but the words tumble out, anyway, intent on eliciting some kind of reaction, one way or another, because hurting them means you win, when you’re a teenager.
“Sasha, I’m not kidding right now—” Barbie interjects, strict.
“I’ve never asked to go out to a party. And I did this one time. And yeah, I messed up, but did you ever think that maybe it was because of you?!” Sasha blames. “Like… Maybe you’re so controlling that I had to act out to break free or something! Maybe I wouldn’t have done all this if you weren’t so overbearing in the first place!—”
“Drop it. ” Barbie, again.
“I am ready, but you’re not, and you’re the one who refuses to admit it!” Sasha can’t control it, all her emotions pouring out this instant, in the worst way possible. She feels sick to her stomach, but she can’t stop it. “You can’t handle the fact that I have a life now! That I don’t need you anymore! You treat me like I’m a child, but maybe it’s really YOU that needs to grow up!—”
“SASHA, THAT’S ENOUGH !” Barbie snaps, yelling at her daughter.
And Sasha knows she’s really done it now, because Barbie never raises her voice, especially at Sasha.
The car is dead silent, the air thick and awkward and uncomfortable and tense. Sasha’s chest heaves, a pit of hot, hot shame simmering inside. She has no idea what she has done, really. Only that Barbie, who never gets mad, is furious now; that Gloria, who never has nothing to say, is very quiet. And everything is wrong.
Sasha—in what she feels has been a perpetual sensation all night—feels her skin crawl with regret. Why does she always do that? Say and do things without ever thinking, only to feel so terrible afterwards.
The guilt and remorse swirls deep inside of her. So violent it almost makes her feel like she’ll have a heart attack.
Her attempt at speaking is the tiniest whisper in the world, she thinks. It must be. “M- mom —” She tries.
“Don’t.” Gloria sounds cold, and exhausted, and like she is holding back tears, all at once. “You already said it.” The damage is done.
She doesn’t look at Sasha for the entire rest of the drive home.
***
No one has spoken another word, still, by the time they get back to the house.
They get inside, and Sasha has barely a moment to sneak another guilty, pleading glimpse at the back of Gloria’s head, before she’s forced to watch helplessly as the older woman trudges up the stairs silently to her and Barbie’s bedroom.
Barbie sighs softly, placing her car keys in the little key bowl they have in the foyer, before she shrugs her overcoat off and goes to hang it in the downstairs closet.
“Go upstairs and change.” She says to her daughter, shutting the closet door gently and heading for the stairs. “Into your pajamas or something so you’re more comfortable. But when you’re done, come back down. You and I need to have a talk.” She runs a hand through her hair, pausing at the base of the stairs and looking at Sasha to make sure she is listening and understands. And her mom has always been so pretty, almost unnaturally so, but it isn’t until that moment that Sasha notices how human she is. How worn out she looks in this moment. How mature. She is not some special invincible creature that can take Sasha’s beatings, over and over again, and come out of them unbattered and without consequence. No one is.
Not Barbie. Not Gloria. Not anyone.
And fuck , Sasha thinks. She’s really messed it up big this time, in so many ways.
She blinks. “Okay.” She nods obediently. Barbie sighs again, then goes up the stairs, presumably to find her wife.
Sasha takes a moment or two to try and appease the blush of shame that has ignited across her face, before she trots up the stairs and goes to her room, purposely taking her time in wiping off her makeup and getting her pajamas on, throwing on a hoodie and slipping her feet into some socks with slides.
She tiptoes out of her room, lurking just outside her door. She stares down the hall, to where her parents’ room is, fiddling with the sleeves of her hoodie as she contemplates whether or not to go see if Gloria is still in there. And if so, if Sasha can mend this fracture she has caused.
Again, she seems so small. And yet she can do all this harm. How funny is that?
But if she goes, what will she even say? It’s so uncomfortable when you’re young. Like you know when the situation must be corrected, but you’re too awkward and unpracticed to figure out what you’re supposed to do or say. So instead you just linger and sit there in an embarrassing and weird way.
But still , Sasha figures. I should try.
So with her heart beating in her throat, she takes a deep breath and creeps down the carpeted hallway, her footsteps silent. Until she reaches the door to her parents’ room, and finds it only slightly ajar.
She reaches out to place her hand on the handle, to push it a little bit more open. But something stops her mid-motion.
Past the door, she can hear sniffling. And her heart snaps in two, and then in two again, because that’s…
“I just don’t know what to do with her anymore,” Gloria cries softly. Her voice is muffled from inside the room. “If I let her do whatever she wants, I’m neglectful. Irresponsible. If I try to set some limits, I’m restricting her too much. I’m overbearing. It’s like I can never do anything right. I’m always the bad guy, in her eyes.”
Her mom’s voice breaks at the end, and Sasha feels like she’s been shot through the heart and it never went all the way through. Bullet stuck there, lodged inside and rotting.
“Shhh,” Sasha can hear Barbie soothing Gloria. “Shhh, honey. Don’t say that, please.” A gentle kiss somewhere. Probably on Gloria’s head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Sasha doesn’t think she can bear hearing any more, so she turns and practically runs away, bounding down the stairs and out to the front porch swing, where she clambers onto it. The cold air of the night is a refreshing respite, soothing the heat in her face and looming tears in her eyes, as she pulls her legs up and hugs her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them.
She looks out at the dark, empty street, hearing the faraway sounds of the city. It doesn’t take long at all for her mom to come out and join her, and Sasha surmises that maybe she must have heard her making such a hasty exit.
She finds that she doesn’t really care enough to hide it all behind an angsty facade anymore, anyway.
She turns to look at Barbie, who is standing on the porch, looking at her daughter with a cautious, deeply sympathetic look. Like she knows Sasha has just overheard everything.
Sasha blinks, and a tear rolls down her face. Finally .
She sniffles. “Did I really make Mom cry?...” She asks, her voice a broken whisper.
Barbie sighs through her nose. “Sasha…” She says softly.
“Because I didn’t even want to go tonight, you know.” Sasha begins rambling, her voice thick and wavy with all the crying she has yet to let out, spilling free and forth now. “To the stupid party with all those annoying people, and-...” She wipes at her eyes with the heel of her palm. “And I didn’t want to go to that dumb liquor store in the first place as part of Jade and Mikko’s stupid plan, but they asked me in front of everyone . In front of all my friends , and I didn’t know how to say no. Not without looking and feeling so lame . Everyone would have made fun of me.” She knows it’s such a stupid, stupid social system built into their school culture. But how ironic that she has still been sucked into it entirely? And is terrified of it. “What was I supposed to do? I had already said I was going. Even though I didn’t want to.” She wipes more tears away, sniffling again as her nose begins to get all snotty.
Barbie takes a seat beside her daughter. “Oh, baby...” She says softly, wrapping an arm around her. “If you didn’t want to, then why did you?”
Sasha swipes her sleeve across her nose and shrugs halfheartedly. “I don’t know…” She says meekly. “Cloe has soccer and hangs out with her boyfriend most of the time now. Yasmin is always doing a bunch of stuff for the school newspaper. Jade is a part of the fashion club, and I have lacrosse and debate. The only times we see each other are either in class or at lunch. This party seemed like one of the only times we’d all be able to hangout.” She offers as explanation, and Barbie begins to understand. “Plus, I spent all of last year making up excuses not to go to parties and stuff.”
Barbie listens. “Because you didn’t want to go? Or because you felt like we wouldn’t let you?”
“Because I didn’t want to go,” Sasha answers honestly. “I just…” She chews on her bottom lip, quiet for a few moments as she seems to think about something. “I don’t… like the thought of a party. Of a bunch of people and… music that I probably don’t like, that’s also too loud, and…” She fiddles with her hands, nervously picking at her cuticles. It’s an anxious habit she’s had since she was little, and Barbie reaches out to stop her, the motion second-nature to her.
“I always preferred staying here . Staying home , with you and Mom.” Sasha admits. “And I never thought it was, like… weird, or a problem , or anything… But then people started talking about how they’d never see me at these parties, or whatever, and suddenly I felt like… I don’t know…” She searches for the right words. “Like I was some loser who always just stayed home and never did anything fun.”
“Honey…” Barbie sighs gently, hugging Sasha closer. “You’re not a loser . And there’s nothing wrong with liking to stay in. Or hanging out with your parents.”
“I know that,” Sasha corroborates, sounding deeply disappointed in herself. “I know that, and I know it’s such a stupid thing to think and that people at school are just dumb, but… it still got in my head, for some reason. And I panicked.” She sighs. “I guess I just didn’t wanna be seen as uncool or anything.” Because no matter how headstrong she is, she is still only in high school, and the opinions of others always do matter, even if only a little bit.
“You’re not uncool .” Her mom reassures her. “There’s no way you could ever be uncool. You’re the coolest person I know.”
Sasha snorts. “Gee, thanks.” She mutters.
Barbie chuckles lightly, before she pauses, and then sighs gently once more.
“Look,” she begins. “I won’t lie and tell you that I’m completely over the trouble you got yourself into tonight. We put a lot of trust in you, and you broke that. But…” She reaches out and wipes some tears from Sasha’s face. “I understand where you were coming from, dragged into it basically and all that. And I believe you when you say you didn’t want to. Or mean for any of this to happen.” Her tone is merciful and sweet, the way Sasha has always known it. “I’m sorry you felt this way, and I wish you would have come to me or your Mom sooner.” Barbie pulls Sasha into her completely, holding her daughter. “You should never let others’ opinions of you dictate who you are and what you want to do, honey. It’s your own life at the end of the day, and what matters is that you’re happy and comfortable. And if you’re surrounded by people who make you feel bad for that, then those people aren’t for you. Your real friends will never do that.” She’s running her fingers across Sasha’s hair as she speaks, scratching her scalp softly, the way Sasha has always loved. “I would hate to see you jeopardize the wonderful person you are, all because of some assholes.”
Sasha laughs at her mom’s crass words, and Barbie joins in.
The blonde kisses the top of Sasha’s head. “Thank you for being honest with me.”
Sasha closes her eyes, hugging Barbie tight, her cheek squished into her mom’s chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” She whispers. “And I’m sorry for everything tonight. So much.”
Barbie hums quietly. “I forgive you. But it’s not me you need to be apologizing to, you know.”
Sasha winces.
“Do you think she’ll ever stop hating me enough for me to be able to say sorry?”
Barbie scoffs. “Your mom doesn’t hate you, Sasha. She could never. But you made her really, really upset.” She sighs. “Just… give her some time to cool off. Maybe try talking to her in the morning. She’ll come around, I just know it.”
Sasha nods, still coddled in Barbie’s embrace. “Okay,” she abides.
“Good,” Barbie exhales, and the two of them settle into a comfortable silence, momentarily.
“You looked really pretty tonight, by the way.” Barbie says after a minute or two. “You look so much like your Mom did at your age.”
“Really?” Sasha asks.
“Mhm,” Barbie replies. “Well, except for maybe the shape of your face. And people have always said you have my eyes.”
“Because they’re super blue?” Sasha deadpans.
The witty remark makes Barbie laugh.
“Yeah, exactly.” She quips in return.
Sasha laughs too. It’s a small moment, but it’s the best she’s felt the whole night. So she holds on a little tighter, content to just be there, even if she knows not everything is right quite just yet.
***
No one told Sasha you need to grease the pan before you pour a pancake onto it.
And no one told her you can’t have the pan too hot to begin with, or else the pancakes will burn up in five seconds. And why is that so? Sasha thought the general rule of thumb was that the hotter the pan is, the quicker the food will cook. Right? It seems only logical!
Anyway, this is how the sixteen year old finds herself haphazardly taking the pan off the stove and scraping a black, charred pancake into the sink for the fourth time that morning, coughing a bit through the small heap of smoke that has started to billow up through the kitchen.
“ Shit ,” she cusses to herself, racing over to open a window and get some fresh air in, to serve as ventilation before the smoke alarm goes off. The last thing she needs right now is for her parents to be woken up by the shrill cry of Sasha burning the house down.
Especially when this is supposed to be a surprise breakfast.
It doesn’t work, and the smoke alarm starts going off anyway.
“Shh!” Sasha pleads, as if it will hear her and listen. “Shut up!” She fans at it with a dish towel desperately. Even if she grabs a chair from the dining table to be able to reach it, she’s not sure how the stupid device even works, or what button to press to get it to turn off.
“What’s going on?” Gloria comes rushing into the kitchen, Barbie only a few steps behind her. “Sasha, honey?!” She looks around, noticing the mess of pancake batter on the stove, the small pile of burnt pancakes in the sink, and the thin layer of smoke in the room. “What’s happening?!”
“N-nothing!” Sasha stammers. “Just… the alarm started going off randomly, stupid thing.”
Barbie steps over, gently easing Sasha out of the way. She stretches out her arm, able to reach the smoke alarm once she’s on her tippy toes. Sasha watches as she presses a few buttons and then the alarm finally shuts up.
“There we go,” the blonde grins easily. It’s then that she finally gets a look around the kitchen, the pieces clicking into place.
“Were you trying to make breakfast?” Gloria asks the teenage girl, and amusement is kind of clear on her face.
“I-...” Sasha casts a quick glance at Barbie, who is (poorly) hiding a proud little smile, as if she knows what Sasha was up to. “Um, yeah… I was trying to make pancakes. But it… didn’t work out.” She scratches the back of her neck. “Clearly.”
Gloria nods. The air between them is still a little fraught with tension, but it’s nothing compared to last night.
“Need some help?” She offers, and maybe it doubles as an olive branch, of some sort. Either way, Sasha catches it with desperate hands.
“Yeah,” she nods. “Please.” She gulps. “I do.”
And then, without a second thought, she lunges forward and hugs her mom tight.
“I’ll always need your help. I’ll always need you .” She whispers, and says everything with those few words. I’m sorry , a hundred times, clear as day.
Gloria is stunned for a moment; she looks up at Barbie, who smiles at her, nodding, as if affirming that this is real.
And finally, Gloria closes her eyes and melts into the embrace, hugging Sasha back tightly.
Barbie beams at the two of them, letting them have their moment as she begins to clean up some of the mess Sasha has made.
“My girls,” she hums fondly, proudly, leaning against the sink as Sasha and Gloria pull away from their hug.
“Bad cook and has gotten arrested.” She looks at Sasha with a gaze that is almost admiring, her smile bright. “Yep! You’re definitely mine, kid.” She reaches out to ruffle Sasha’s hair.
Sasha groans, hiding her smile. And everything is fine again.