The freaking cat is obsessed with Gio.

This morning, Ari went to his room for another makeover, but Luna was snuggled on his neck, sleeping with him.

Poor Ari almost lost her hand trying to put lipstick on him. She ran out, face pale, like her life had just flashed before her eyes.

So I suggested to put salt in Gio's coffee. Get back at him for bedding a home wrecker. I didn't say that out loud.

But it's as if the cat knew it was my idea, because when Gio spit out the salted coffee and complained, the cat slowly turned her head at me, narrowed her eyes and pushed my coffee off the counter.

The next day, Ari held a protest, demanding Gio's attention. With a smug grin and batting lashes, Gio promised to take her out on a date. They're going to an arcade next week. I'm not jealous.

Ari was happy and now she could move on to more important things, like practicing her catwalk for Monday— first day of school. We held a contest between Luna and her as they strutted from one end of the living room to the other.

Ari won.

The cat threw up a hair ball.

That was on Friday.

A week of babysitting was complete and it might've been the best week I've had in the last seven years. I look forward to Monday.

What I don't look forward to is this Sunday's church service.

No doubt Gio and Ari will show up. Everyone does.

It'll be the second time he and I are in a church. This time it'll be with the whole town with all its flavors— the lonely wives with cheating husbands, the pretentious ones with asshole sons, the old men with creepy smiles.

As usual, I dress for the occasion.

I put on a bold eyeliner and red lipstick. A black leather jacket and skinny black jeans.

As usual, I sit on the edge of the aisle near an open window, where my mom and I used to sit, where the air is crisp with a gentle breeze and the sun rays sneak to caress the skin.

But most importantly, where the blue sky lives with its soaring birds.

Now I sit with Marilyn, who doesn't comment on my clothes, but isn't thrilled either. She doesn't want me to suffer and I find her hopes of how my life should be kind, but naive.

As the aisles on left and right fill with familiar faces, I look over my shoulder and my lips part.

Gio cut his hair.

He plods down the nave, holding Ari's hand who's dressed in green with a matching headband. A white button-down is rolled around his arms, tucked into black jeans with a black leather belt.

Brown hair swept back in disheveled waves, a strand or two over his forehead. Concrete jaw stubbled, brows arched and scarred, eyes mischievously green.

Others stare, murmuring. I don't even notice Arthur beside him in his uniform with blonde hair trimmed and cheeks as usually flushed.

The three settle on the opposite aisle, a few rows behind as my dad begins his sermon.

The crowd opens their Bibles and the turning pages rustle into white noise as I disconnect.

I look out the window and think of my mom. I picture the sparkle in her brown eyes when she smiled. I relive the soft touch of her hand as she held mine. I replay her voice again and again, like a sacred prayer in my mind.

"Celia... do you know why the caged bird sings?"

My breaths turn shallow, body shrivels, spaces narrow. I look over my shoulder at everyone's closed eyes, lips following my father's words.

I notice Gio who doesn't fit in at all. I notice the etched concern between his brows, the suppressed tension in his jaw.

What does he think of? Whose voice does he replay? Does his throat tighten the same way?

I look at Ari concentrating hard to repeat the strings of sentences my father commands. Tiny hands together, cheeks puffed. It puts a smile on my face, almost waters my eyes.

My gaze shifts back to Gio and I suck in a sharp breath when I find him staring back.

The corners of his lips pull up as he notices me smiling at Ari. His eyes soft and warm hold mine, look at me like he can see right through me. I realize how badly I long for a look like that.

How badly I miss my mom.

I break away, blinking at my folded hands.

When the service is over, people huddle in the corners to chat. Marilyn and I walk up to my dad and Chanel engrossed in a conversation with Arthur and Gio.

"Oh, there she is." My father smiles. "I finally got a proper introduction to the man you work for."

"Hi, I'm Ari." Ari shyly extends her hand to my grandma.

"Have you lit candles in a church before?" My grandma asks her, pointing a silent request at Gio who nods. "Want me to show you?"

Ari nods with an adorable smile and my grandma takes her hand as the two approach the long table by the entrance, where people light candles.

"You cut your hair." I look at Gio.

He shrugs and Arthur squares his shoulders, answering for him. "I told him so. Told him he should also get rid of his bike."

"Why?" I frown.

My dad scoffs. "Because he's a father, sweetheart. It comes with sacrifices that children don't understand."

"I didn't realize Ari was suffering from Gio's long hair and bike. Is she okay?" I still look at Gio, waiting for him to speak for himself, but he shifts his gaze and clears his throat.

"Right, it doesn't really matter. I don't care about appearances or toys."

"Right," I repeat.

"Celia." My dad warns with a glance, then smiles at Gio. "How do you and Arthur know each other anyway?"

"It's a... long story, " Arthur drawls, exchanging looks with Gio. "Maybe for some other time."

"Well, I'm thrilled for the changes." Chanel chimes in with exaggerated enthusiasm. "It just shows how much you love your daughter and just want the best for her."

Shaking my head, I step away to leave. On my way out though, I catch Ari and Marilyn by the table.

My grandma is hunched behind Ari's shoulder, guiding her hands to light a long, white candle. She smiles when Ari pushes the bottom into the sand, quietly praising her.

"Did you see his new haircut?" Chanel whispers. "Isn't it ridiculous?"

I carefully turn to find her with another woman as the two near an adjacent table. Slowly, I follow behind to hear their conversation, staring at the back of their heads.

"You'd think he'd have the decency to cover his tattoos?" The other woman adds.

"I'm pretty sure he's on drugs. You see the marks on his daughter's arms? Bet he makes her do it just to brainwash her to be like him."

"What a shame. Poor child..."

"That's why we have child protective services. If I catch anything..."

"Are you an undercover cop?" Her friend giggles. "Maybe Arthur should give you his badge."

Chanel laughs, shaking her long, blonde hair. "Please, I'm so much better than that weasel."

Fire spreads from my neck to my forehead, my stomach twists in nauseating knots.

Who the fuck does she think she is? Child services? Drugs?

Their laughs fill the space as they toss their hair over their shoulders, smiling at each other, so proper and perfect.

Snakes. That's what they are.

Bet if I called authorities for what her son does, everyone here would deny it. They'd cry and stare in horror, calling me insane.

I take a long candle from a basket in the last aisle and get near Chanel, eyes on her blonde hair that shines so prettily in the sunlight.

I light the wick and pull it to my chest, lost in a trance of revenge, staring at the end of her curls as I bring the candle close.

Flame so close to her hair, closer... and closer...

A hand catches my wrist.

My pulse pounds as I look at Gio's wide eyes. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" he whispers. "Are you insane?"

It gets hard to breathe.

I want nothing more than to hide. Nothing more than to be dead and be with my mom.

I shake my head and turn around. Rush down the steps, but this time he catches up.

People are still inside, some a couple of yards away when he grabs my wrist and whips me around, eyes a-flame with rage and shock.

"What's your problem?" he snaps. "Who the fuck does something like that?"

"Why do you care? Is she your girlfriend?" I shut off, voice full of venom.

He scowls, searching my face. "I don't understand... I really don't get you."

"Yeah, why would you? You're just like them! Now you act and dress like them too."

"What, I'm supposed to rebel like you?" He waves his palm over me. "What for? What point are you making? What's your deal?"

"My deal..." I sneer, stepping in front of his face. "Is that I'd rather be hated than be forced into a lesser version of myself. I'd rather be called insane than be an obedient lamb. And you, sweetheart, are too scared to understand because all you care about is being accepted."

He laughs, dipping his head to look me square in the eyes. "Celia, I won't ever be accepted. But what you fail to understand is that I don't just live for myself. I'm not reckless and selfish."

"Yeah..." I nod, knitting my brows. "Yeah you're right. I am reckless and selfish. But you know what you are? You're just a fucking coward hiding behind a good daddy facade."

"You're fired."

My jaw slacks open. "What?"

"I said you're fired." His tone is calm and cold. "I warned you."

"I haven't done anything—"

"I don't know what your problem is, I don't know why you are the way that you are, but I know people don't act like this for no reason." He stares at me, lips pressed into a line. "I imagine you're in deep pain and you feel alone, but that doesn't make any of this okay."

My mouth is still open but I can't breathe. My eyes sting, but I can't even blink.

"You're a good person, Celia. This is the worst facade." He shakes his head. "But if you can't see it, I can't have you around."

"Gio—"

"We're done." He cuts me off and storms away, going back inside.

~A/N~
Ugh, I know... I know...