chapter warnings: none
word count: 2.4k
[Not Another Cinderella Story Masterlist] • [Membership Stories]
The kitchen was quiet as Miriam did the dishes while both Elliot and Oscar worked on their homework at the table. Vivianne sat on the living room couch, the only light in the room coming from the TV, its sound drifting towards the three of them.
Today’s dinner had been more peaceful than Miriam expected. Elliot kept everyone entertained with his Science Project updates, telling everyone how the volcano he was working on had finally been tested and how it was working properly. For the majority of dinner, Oscar didn’t say a word. After meeting with Miriam at school, he probably knew why she was there.
The reasoning behind it surprised her, though.
“I’ve finished homework!” Elliot said as he dramatically dropped his pencil onto the table, stretching his arms afterwards. “Can I go to my bedroom now?”
“After I take a look, yes.” Miriam wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and picked up Elliot’s notebook, going over his child-like handwriting that she could barely understand. “Did you have any questions?”
“Nope.”
“Did you do everything?”
He nodded and offered her a thumbs-up. Miriam placed the notebook back on his table and ruffled his curls, earning an eye roll from him. From the other side of the table, Oscar glared at the two of them.
“Why don’t you go get ready for bed?” Miriam suggested, smiling at Elliot. “After you wash your teeth, come say goodnight, okay?”
“Okay.” Elliot grabbed his pencil case and notebooks and shoved them inside his backpack, grabbing it to leave the kitchen. “Should I wake mom up?”
“I’ll do that, don’t worry. It’s late, and you need sleep, so stop stalling.”
“I’m not stalling.” Miriam crossed her arms and Elliot sighed, walking out of the kitchen. “Maybe just a little.”
She chuckled and shook her head, ready to finish cleaning the kitchen. She grabbed the sponge from the sink, wiped the rest of the glasses and cups, and ran them under water before letting them dry in their tray.
“Can you try to make less noise?” Oscar said. “I’m trying to work here.”
“Homework is hard?” she asked, reducing the speed of her task. “Can I help?”
“No. It’s maths.”
“I was good at maths.”
“Were you good at calculus, though?” He sighed and the wooden chair creaked as he leaned back on it. “I hate this.”
“I thought you liked maths.”
“Only sometimes,” he mumbled under his breath.
Miriam looked over her shoulder to find Oscar’s mind elsewhere while he spun a pencil in between his fingers, his eyes glossing over his notebook. Once she wiped the kitchen counter one more time and hung the towel on the oven’s rack, she took the spot that Elliot had occupied earlier, staring at Oscar.
“I spoke with your school counsellor today,” she said, unsure how to bring this topic up.
Oscar’s eyes glanced at her briefly before he cleared his throat and focused back on his homework, biting the end of his pencil. “I have to finish this. Don’t distract me now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you got accepted into the Intro to Aerodynamics workshop? Why didn’t you tell me you applied in the first place?”
“I didn’t think I would get in,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the blank pages in front of him.
“But you got in. Your course director told me you’re thinking of turning it down. Why?” Miriam adjusted herself in the chair. “I thought this was your dream.”
“It is my dream.” Oscar glanced at her before looking away again. “But I can’t accept it.”
“Why not, Oscar? From what she said, this is a great opportunity. It could look really good in your future college applications.”
He let out a bitter laugh, and shook his head, biting the inside of his cheek. “Forget it.”
Oscar stood up and shoved everything mindlessly in his bag.
“We’re still talking about this,” she said.
“No, we’re not.” He glared at her. “You’re not my mother, so stop acting like it.”
“I am your sister!” She got up from her chair, making it screech across the floor. Miriam grimaced. “I just want to understand.”
“How can you not understand, Miriam?” Oscar ran a hand through his hair and curled his fingers into fists, lightly banging them on the wall next to him. “I got accepted into the workshop, but they didn’t approve my financial aid request. I forged your signature, by the way.”
Her eyes widened. “You what? Oscar—”
“I didn’t think I would get in, and I didn’t want to let you know. Or Elliot. Or mom.” He shook his head, defeated. “Point is, my grades are bad and even though I am good at maths and physics, I suck at everything else. They recognised my skills, but don’t think I am invested enough in school to deserve to do the workshop for free. It doesn’t help that I don’t have… the best school record, either.”
Miriam nodded. Oscardidn’thave the best school record. In between skipping classes, being excused for bad behaviour or being suspended for doing the right thing at the wrong time, Oscar’s school process was a heavy one. Most people took one look at it and didn’t make much out of him. His good grades were because he was good at copying answers and bullying people, not because he actually put in the effort and worked hard for them. Most people looked at her brother and thought he wasn’t a good influence, that he wasn’t a good kid.
“How many more times have you forged my signature?” she asked, starting at the most pressing question. “And don’t lie to me. I have said once, and I’ll say again that I don’t want any secrets between us. It’s not helpful to you, and it makes my life more difficult.”
“I only forged your signature this once,” he said, meeting her eyes. She raised an eyebrow and Oscar lifted his arms in defence. “I swear. I’m telling the truth, Miriam.”
“I believe you.”
Miriam kept her eyes on him as he paced around the kitchen, still wearing his school uniform, including his sneakers. It didn’t matter how many times she would tell him to put on some slippers while he was at home, Oscar would never listen. He would always do as he pleased, and Miriam was running out of ideas on how to keep her brother in check.
“How much is it?” she asked, knowing very well what her answer would be no matter the value he would say.
“You can’t afford it,” he said. “It’s no use telling you.”
“How much?” she repeated. “Oscar—”
“Stop it, Miriam.” The aggressiveness in his voice made her flinch. “It’s no use. You can’t afford it. I shouldn’t have applied for it. I should just accept that I will be just like you when I grow up.”
“Is that so bad?”
“Yeah.” He looked at her with disgust before turning his back on her and walking out of the kitchen. “You’ll never be anyone. You’re just like the rest of them.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Oscar?”
By the time Miriam reached the kitchen door, he slammed his bedroom door, locking it behind him. The bathroom door opened, spilling light into the living room and Elliot stepped outside, wearing his old and loved superhero pyjamas.
“Were the two of you arguing again?” he asked, glancing at her with concern.
“Were we loud?” Elliot nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to upset you.”
“I’m not upset,” he said, then narrowed his eyes on Miriam. “Are you?”
She chuckled and guided him to the bedroom door and knocked on it.
“Oscar? Please, let Elliot inside. He has to sleep.”
“Do you think he’s blasting music again?” Elliot took a step forward and banged on the door with his fists. “Oscar! Let me in! I want to sleep!” he screamed and banged his fists again.
After a few ruffling sounds inside the bedroom, the door unlocked and Oscar opened it, fuming at the two of them.
“What?” he said. “Can’t he sleep on the couch?”
“He has a bed in there,” Miriam said. “This is as much his bedroom as it is yours.”
“I can’t even have privacy and space in my own home.” Oscar rolled his eyes and abandoned the door, leaving it open for Elliot to step inside.
Miriam lowered herself and Elliot flashed his teeth at her and she gave him a thumbs-up. “Looks good.” She pointed at her cheek. “Do I deserve a goodnight kiss?”
“Yes.” He kissed her cheek, wrapping her arms around her neck. Miriam almost lost balance. “You know I like you, right? I don’t like to see you sad.”
“I’m not sad, Elliot,” she said, blinking the blurriness away rapidly. “I don’t want you to think I am sad.”
“Okay.” He kissed her cheek again and leaned away from her. “Will you make us pancakes tomorrow as well? I like your pancakes more than breakfast at your job.” He frowned. “It doesn’t taste very good.”
“I thought you liked it.”
“I like the hot chocolate. Not the food.” He shook his head and focused on Miriam again with pleading eyes. “Can you? Please?”
“I’ll think about it.” She ruffled his hair and stood up, pushing him gently inside the bedroom. “Now, you go and get to sleep. I’ll come to check up on you later.”
Miriam leaned on the door frame of her sibling’s bedroom as Elliot crossed the small, crammed room towards his bed. He climbed inside, pulling the covers over his body and closing his eyes, turning around to face the wall. Before she closed the door, Miriam glanced one final time at Oscar, their eyes meeting briefly.
“Our conversation isn’t over. Goodnight, Oscar.”
He didn’t answer. Her brother turned back to the notebooks and notes scattered around his desk and put his headphones back on, disconnecting from this world altogether. She closed the door and massaged her temples.
She knew Oscar said a lot of things to her he didn’t mean, but this felt especially cruel coming from him. As much as she wanted to give her siblings everything, she couldn’t do it. She wanted to give them the chance to follow their dreams, to visit other countries and other places. Miriam wanted to be able to afford a place where each of them had their own bedroom, where they didn’t have to share a bathroom, where Elliot could have new clothes and not have to wear Oscar’s old ones. She wanted to give her siblings pancakes every day, she wanted to make sure they had enough money to afford more than just breakfast and dinner.
Instead, this was the life she could provide for them.
“Is your father late for dinner?”
Vivianne’s voice brought her back to her senses. Not this tonight, she thought.
Miriam took a deep breath and walked towards the couch, finding Vivianne’s green eyes following her every move. She blinked as if slowly waking up from a deep sleep, glancing around the room as she tried to locate where she was.
“Should we wait for your father to have dinner?” she asked, gesturing to the empty kitchen table. “What are we having for dinner tonight?”
“We already had dinner,” Miriam said as she sat next to her step-mother. Vivianne stared at her, confused. Miriam trained her features to remain calm and collected, trying her best to smile softly. “Did you take your medication today?”
“What medication?” She shook her head. “I don’t take any medication.”
“Yes, you do. It helps you feel better.”
“I feel fine!” Vivianne said, dismissing Miriam with a wave of a hand. “I am just worried about your father. It’s not like him to stay this long without saying anything. Have you tried calling him?”
“No.” Miriam gulped. “It’s already late. I’m sure my dad wouldn’t like to see you awake once he’s back. Why don’t you go and rest?”
“I’m not tired. I can wait for your father, don’t worry. I will handle him once I am back. Just,” she peeked into the kitchen again, “put a plate on the table for him, please. He needs to eat once he is back. I’m sure he’s starving.”
“Maybe.”
Vivianne would never find out, though. Miriam sniffed and got up from the couch. She placed an empty plate on the kitchen table, adding a glass, a fork and a knife. When she was done, she leaned on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath as she stared at the ceiling.
“Tomorrow we should make his favourite dish,” Vivianne said from the living room. “I should tell him that in the morning. I’m sure that he won’t stay until late at work tomorrow.”
When Miriam returned to the living room, Vivianne’s eyes followed her around until she sat down next to her. “When will you return to France?”
“I’m not.” Miriam offered a trembling smile, joining her back on the couch. “I have decided to stay, remember? I’m here with you now. And Oscar and Elliot.”
“And your father,” she added, reaching out to hold Miriam’s hand. “Oh, sweetheart. Why the tears?”
“I’m not having the best of days,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’ll be fine, though.”
“You’re tough.” Vivianne nodded in approval. “You’re very much like your father in that aspect.”
“He was great, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, he’s still great!” Vivianne laughed.
Miriam gave the briefest of nods, her heart shattering in her chest once again. She never knew how to break the news to Vivianne, how to tell her the truth. Her husband would not come back. He would not walk through those doors and have dinner by himself while she filled him in on her day job. He would not lay in bed next to her at night. He would not leave her a scrambled love note on the kitchen counter next to her coffee mug.
He was gone. He was dead.
But in Vivianne’s mind and somewhere in her soul, he still lived. Time stopped for her when he passed away, and she relieved the day of his death over and over, waiting for it to have a different result, only to wake up to the same sun the next morning.
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