Chapter Text
The sound of her alarm is jarring and makes her want to throw her phone violently against the wall. But then she can’t really afford a new phone so maybe this isn’t the best idea. Instead, she snoozes the alarm and drives her face further into the pillow, five more minutes probably won’t hurt. Her brain is still foggy with sleep, but even though she is tiptoeing on the line between sleep and awakeness, she is aware of the sounds that surround her. The cars that drive down the street, her grandmother making coffee and Claire throwing a fit because Mallory won’t make her waffles for breakfast.
When her alarm rings again, she turns it off this time. Finally opening her eyes and sighing before sitting up. Her phone screen is far too bright, assaulting her eyes and forcing her to squint so she can check the time. Maybe if she hadn’t been up until two thirty in the morning to finish her lab report, waking up wouldn’t be so difficult. But she has a busy day waiting for her and feeling sorry for herself is definitely not going to get any of those lost hours of sleep back. So she pushes the covers off of her legs and heads for the kitchen.
The little room is far too animated for such an early hour, Mallory is frantically trying to get Claire to eat her oatmeal while checking her phone every two seconds and her grandmother is rummaging through the fridge. The radio is on, announcing today’s forecast and Misty is already missing the peacefulness of her room. Too many noises and too much movement that her brain can’t process or handle right now. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, making her way to the coffee maker, hoping a cup of coffee will wake her brain up enough to bring Claire to daycare and get herself to class. She grabs a mug and pours herself a cup.
“We’re out of milk.” Eileen says as she stops her foraging and turns to Misty after adding milk to the shopping list on the whiteboard. “Short night?” She asks immediately as she catches a glimpse of Misty’s tired features. Misty nods as she yawns. Nothing really escapes her grandmother’s trained sight, especially after living with her for several years.
“Yeah, I had to finish my lab report before tonight.” She sits on the counter as she takes a sip of her coffee, burning her tongue in the process. Yeah, apparently it is going to be one of those days. She blows over the surface of the hot liquid as she pushes her tongue against her palate, hoping to alleviate some of the pain.
“Please, get off the counter, you’re not five anymore.” Her grandmother is already closing the fridge and pushing her off the counter, almost causing the Cajun to spill her coffee all over herself. Eileen tells her almost every day that she shouldn't sit on the counter or on the floor, but she keeps on doing it every single time. It’s not her fault that the counter and the floor are both more comfortable than sitting on a chair. “You really have to learn how to stay on top of things, Mist, sleeping so little can’t be good for you.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout me MeeMaw, I can handle it.” Misty is quick to reassure her, knowing that this late night is going to be followed by many more when exam season starts. She makes her way to the fridge, opening it and searching for a bottle she can’t find. “We still have oat milk, right?” She asks as her eyes scan over the fridge’s contents a second time.
“Bottom door shelf.” Eileen answers mechanically as she sits down on a chair and grabs her planner. Misty grabs a bagel and jam from the shelf before sitting down next to her. Her grandmother is already writing down in her planner while Misty spreads jam mechanically on her bagel and tries to gather her messy thoughts. She doesn’t understand how her grandmother is able to be on top of things at such an early hour, but it’s pretty impressive.
“I want to eat a bagel too!” Claire exclaims when she notices her aunt’s breakfast. She pushes her bowl aside, almost sending it flying to the floor but Mallory catches it just in time. She puts it back in front of her daughter, pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing.
“You haven’t even eaten half of your oatmeal munchkin.” She says as she points to the barely eaten bowl of oatmeal in front of the toddler. But Claire crosses her arms over her chest, looking like a mini Mallory in that moment, bringing a smile to Misty’s lips. The toddler has this petulant look in her eyes and Misty catches the sound of Mallory softly sighing.
“But I want to eat a bagel like aunt Misty.” She pouts and starts doing puppy eyes at her mother. Misty is glad she isn’t the one at the receiving end of that look because she finds it far too cute to refuse her niece anything.
Mallory is already stressed about her big interview for her paid internship and she looks a bit desperate at her daughter’s refusal. So Misty jumps in. “How about you finish your oatmeal and when ya do I’ll give ya a bite of my bagel.” The Cajun offers, hoping her niece will take the bait because Mallory doesn’t need any extra stress today.
“Okay!” Claire is quickly grabbing her discarded spoon and eating her breakfast eagerly. Mallory turns to Misty, mouthing a quiet thank you. While Misty is eating her breakfast, Mallory puts her shoes on and grabs her purse. She is already all frantic and stressed as she checks the content of her purse at least three times and runs her hand in her hair repeatedly. She checks the time on her phone before crouching next to Claire so she can be at her eyes' level.
“You be good at daycare. I love you.” She says, first enveloping her in a tight hug and then kissing her twice on the forehead and looking at her longingly before finally detaching herself from her daughter. The motion seems to take up a lot of courage as Mallory walks up to Misty but doesn’t seem able to tear her eyes away from her daughter.
“Love you too, Mama.” The toddler answers, waving at her mother before turning her attention back to her breakfast, apparently very set on the goal of finishing it just so she can have a piece of bagel.
“Thank you so much, Mist. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Mallory says as she somehow manages to hug her even though the Cajun is still sitting on her chair. So Misty just puts the bagel down on her plate so she can hug her back.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just go and be the best candidate they’ve ever seen.” Misty waves her off. She then catches sight of all of the bracelets that adorn her wrists, her brain finally catching up. She unties her favourite woven bracelet hastily. The same bracelet she was given years ago and that she never wants to part with. “Wait, take it.” She hands it to Mallory who immediately smiles at the sight, her expression growing softer and somewhat nostalgic.
“The lucky bracelet.” She whispers before putting it on and looking at it for a couple of seconds. “Thanks.”
And then she bids Eileen goodbye and is out of the door. They finish their breakfast in relative silence, the radio filling the gaps in between them. But Misty doesn’t mind, parts of her brain are still somewhat asleep and having a conversation right now would be far too arduous. Instead, she tries to remember where she put her biology of organisms textbook. She is pretty sure the last time she saw it it was laying open on the floor next to her desk, but it wasn’t there yesterday. Guess, she’ll just have to look for it before going to class, or maybe she could ask Zoe if she has seen the elusive book.
Claire forces her out of her thoughts as she stands up, holding her bowl precariously and walking towards her aunt. “Can I have some bagel now?” Claire is already showing Misty her empty bowl and looking up at her with those huge irresistible brown eyes. Yeah, there are days when telling her no just isn’t a feasible option.
“Alright, come here.” Misty lifts Claire to her lap before giving her a piece of her bagel. The toddler is obviously delighted as she starts eating eagerly, smearing jam all over her mouth and hands. Misty chuckles at that as she finishes her cup of coffee.
When they’re both done eating, Misty leaves the kitchen to get ready while Claire stays with Eileen. She catches whatever clean clothes she can find and throws them on. She puts a bit of make-up on to hide the marks that lack of sleep have left on her skin. She then searches for her mysterious textbook, telling herself that maybe she should take some time and tidy up her room a bit. Between the piles of books on the floor, the clothes that lay discarded on the back of her chair, the plants that cover all of the empty spaces and the two empty mugs that are still on her desk, her room is the perfect picture of a chaotic mess. But she really doesn’t mind, she thrives in her somewhat organised mess and even when her grandmother forces her to tidy up a bit, the room quickly ends up in its natural messy state. The only thing that looks somewhat organised and neat is her vinyl collection, stored away in a beautiful wooden console cabinet that Mallory had bought her for her birthday.
But somehow her textbook seems hell bent on remaining unfound. So she sends a text to Zoe, hoping that maybe her friend has seen it. Let’s just hope she has because between burning her tongue and this, that’s already a bit too much trouble for someone who hasn’t even left home yet. She throws her bag over her shoulder before heading back to the kitchen, knowing she has to leave in the next five minutes if she doesn’t want to end up being late.
Thankfully, Eileen has helped Claire clean her hands and face after the jam debacle. And when she steps into the kitchen, Claire already has her shoes on and she is trying to close her jacket, she has managed to get one of the buttons done but it’s in the wrong hole. She immediately stops when she sees Misty and runs to her, lifting her arms up in the air.
“Misty, up!” She giggles and Misty carries her before grabbing the keys of the truck. But before she can head out, her grandmother calls her name, stopping her dead in her tracks.
“Don’t forget about today’s job.” She says as she points to the small whiteboard on the fridge.
“I won’t. Three thirty, Robichaux’s academy. Don’t worry, I only have two morning classes today. I’ll be home for lunch.” Eileen nods and Misty is out the door, walking swiftly down the stairs and bouncing Claire up and down, bringing giggles out of her.
The traffic is light and maybe her day isn’t going to be that bad after all. She puts one of her Fleetwood Mac playlist on and looks at Claire through the rear view mirror at red lights. The toddler sings along to almost every song and Misty knows that Mallory would probably be mad at that. But oh well, Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks are gifts to be shared with the world, aren’t they?
She makes it to the daycare five minutes early, which is some kind of a small miracle. Claire walks with one hand holding Misty’s while she clutches her bunny plushie with her free arm. There is a little bounce in her step as they walk inside, the toddler seems to enjoy daycare which is a great relief to Mallory who always feels guilty when she has to leave her daughter at daycare.
Misty drops her off, reminding her that Mallory is the one picking her up this afternoon. But before she can leave, Claire is already asking her a question. “Can we have a tea party this afternoon?” She pouts, knowing very well that the action usually works in her favour. At only three years old, she already knows how to get what she wants from most adults. But then how could anyone resist such cuteness?
Misty tries to smile, aware that her schedule doesn’t leave her anytime to play with her niece today. “I can’t, sweet pea. I have to work today. But we can play this weekend, okay?” Claire looks a bit disappointed at the words, frowning for a few seconds before whispering a shy “okay” and breaking Misty’s heart just a little bit. She still kisses her niece goodbye before walking fastly to the truck and driving herself to class.
When she makes it to class, she is surprised to see that Zoe isn’t there yet. So she sits down in their usual seat, pulling out her phone and checking her texts to see that Zoe still hasn't answered. Her friend’s absence is unexpected, Zoe has always been the type to show up to class no matter what. She has seen Zoe trying to take notes while nursing awful hangovers and staying up all night. So Misty sends another text asking her if everything is fine.
Zoe doesn’t show up to class that day. And even though she only has two classes today, they seem to stretch on indefinitely and she is incapable of focusing for more than fifteen consecutive minutes. Between the lack of sleep, exam season rapidly approaching and the stress from Mallory’s interview, her thoughts are a blurry mess and everytime she thinks she is finally getting a grasp on her ability to focus, it slips through her fingers like running water. So she just hopes that whatever her professors are saying is in the textbook.
She doesn’t get an answer from Zoe until she gets back home for lunch. But even then her texts seem shorter and more dry than normal, triggering several alerts in Misty’s brain.
“Don’t worry I have it, you left it in my car.”
“I’m okay, I just have a stomach flu or something.”
The good news is that she finally knows where her textbook is and that she won’t have to buy a new one. On the other hand, the bad news is that there is apparently something going on with Zoe. Her answers are so non-commital and evasive that Misty is pretty sure that she knows where the problem lies. Because this has boy problems written all over it. She doesn't know how she ends up having to help Zoe and Mallory to solve their boy problems, but if it continues maybe she could create a small business out of it. She clearly doesn’t understand why they are coming to her almost every time even though they are definitely knocking at the wrong door. But she does it anyway.
“Did you break up with Kyle again?”
The question is quickly typed out and sent as Misty rummages through the fridge in search of something to eat. This isn’t the first time that something like this has happened, and she isn’t sure she fully understands Kyle and Zoe’s relationship but she tries to offer her help every time.
“Not really. Kind of. I don’t actually know. I’ll tell you tomorrow.”
So she leaves it at that for now. She quickly eats lunch before joining her grandmother in the flower shop just under their apartment. She is working on a composition when Misty enters through the back room. But even with her back turned to her, she hears Misty’s footsteps.
“Do you think marigolds or dahlias would look better in this?” She asks, turning around and holding a vase between her hands. Misty ponders for a few seconds, taking a look at the other flowers and taking a bite out of her apple.
“Dahlias.” Her grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied by the answer before adding a few dahlias to the bunch. The Cajun sits on the counter next to her as she takes another bite of her apple. She kicks her legs in front of her rhythmically, a soothing motion that keeps a random burst of energy at bay. Eileen rolls her eyes and sighs somewhat angrily before gently pressing her palms into the counter.
“You really have to learn to stop sitting on counters, Mist.” Her voice remains calm and composed but there is this fire in her eyes that Misty doesn’t want to kindle. So she slips off the counter and presses her lower back into it instead. Eileen seems to relax at that, her shoulders dropping before she pushes the composition to the side.
“I’m goin’ to load the Robichaux order in the truck. It’s the one on the big shelf, right?” Misty inquires as she finishes her apple, holding the core of the fruit by the stem, trying not to get her fingers sticky.
“Yep. The order fills the entire shelf, you can miss it.” Her grandmother turns her attention to another composition, picking a new vase before heading into the shop and looking around at the different flowers. And so Misty heads to the backroom, but before she closes the door behind her, she hears her grandmother shout. “Just be nice!”
“I’m always nice!” The Cajun lets the door close on itself, shaking her head dismissively even though her grandmother can’t see her. She throws the rest of her apple into the trash before turning to the shelf.
But Eileen is right, the order is hard to miss, taking up the entire shelf and even some of the floor space in front of it. The Cajun remembers preparing some of the pieces with her grandmother. What kind of event are they holding to need this many pieces? Misty is pretty sure that she wouldn’t be able to store all of them in her room. And so loading the order into the truck takes her quite a bit of time and a bit too many round trips. When she is done, her back is starting to smart from all the bending and carrying and her shirt clings unpleasantly to her skin from the sweat. She closes the door of the truck before checking the time and realising that she probably should head out.
Thanks to the truck’s GPS, the drive doesn’t take too long and Misty quickly finds herself parked in front of an imposing white mansion that appears to be looming over her dauntingly. She steps out of the truck and stands in front of the gate for a few seconds, taking a deep breath in to settle her nerves.
Right next to the gate, there is a little plaque that looks faded with age and that reads “Miss Robichaux’s academy for exceptional young ladies”. The first thought that crosses Misty’s mind is that it sounds a bit like a pompous name. Is that a name for a boarding school where rich people send their daughters when they don’t feel like taking care of them anymore?
The whole building makes her feel a bit uncomfortable and anxiety is pooling at the pit of her stomach. But she presses the doorbell and waits for a few seconds, rolling on the balls of her feet. “Who is this?” A woman’s voice asks, with a cacophony of other loud voices reverberating in the background.
“Hi I’m Misty from the Secret Garden, I’m here to deliver the flowers.” She says, cringing at how she hesitates for a second before answering.
“Please, come in.” The gate door buzzes and Misty pushes it open, walking up the small path to the mansion. As she climbs up the few stairs, the front door opens revealing a woman, she is wearing some kind of fancy blouse and black dress pants. Misty is instantly feeling a bit self-conscious about her clothes. Her overalls and Fleetwood Mac t-shirt definitely feel a bit too underdressed for this place. But the woman doesn’t seem to mind, instead she smiles at her welcomingly and offers her her hand.
“Hi, I’m Cordelia Foxx and you must be Misty.” Misty nods as she shakes the woman’s hand, wondering how her hair can look so pristine despite New Orleans’s humidity. Hers must be a frizzy mess at this point and she internally berates herself for not checking her appearance in the mirror before ringing the doorbell. “You’re not the person I got on the phone, right?”
Misty can’t help but smile at the question and shakes her head. “No, that was my grandmother.” Cordelia keeps on smiling at her before opening the door further.
“Please, come on in.” She moves out of the way and motions for Misty to step inside. The inside of the mansion is as impressive as the outside : high ceilings, wooden floors, a huge staircase. Misty feels quite out of place as she stands dumbly in the middle of the entrance, taking her surroundings in. The place is filled with people and sounds as they obviously prepare for whatever event they have planned.
“I’m sorry, we’re having a ceremony for the 200th anniversary of the Academy tonight so it’s a bit chaotic around here.” She says as she closes the door behind them. Her composure grows slightly sheepish at the words. A myriad of footsteps can be heard from upstairs but also rather loud voices and laughter. Downstairs is also rather animated, with people bustling around, cleaning and moving furniture in a blur of faces.
For some reason, Misty had expected the atmosphere of the place to be more stuck up and somewhat pretentious but it’s starkly different from what she had expected, more carefree and lively. The whole mansion seems to be buzzing with excitement but also with a bit of anxiety. The smell of food permeates the entire place and the Cajun is pretty sure she can hear sizzling from the kitchen.
“Where do ya want me to put the flowers?” She finally asks, turning to face Mrs Foxx.
“In the ancestral room, come on, I'll show you.” Cordelia leads her through the mansion into another large room with high ceilings. The walls are brimming with painted portraits, all of them are women, probably previous students or teachers. The room is beautiful and perfectly lit, the afternoon sun slanting through the four windows and casting its golden glow on the furniture. A small platform has been installed at one end of the room and round tables have been placed all around the room, already decorated with silverware but missing the floral centrepieces.
“Do you need any help?” Cordelia offers as Misty looks around the room and starts planning the placement of the different pieces in her head. She is pretty excited about this job after all, the Victorian style home shows some kind of ethereal beauty that she thought she wouldn’t find in such a building. She had clearly expected something more cold and austere.
“Nah don’t worry, I’m gonna unload all of the flowers and I’ll set everythin’ up.” She shakes her head, turning her attention back to the woman standing besides her. She is beautiful and she fits in perfectly in the middle of all this. She has this aura of perfection that appears to surround her, the perfect image of a successful working woman with a husband, a house with white picket fence and 2.5 kids.
Before Cordelia can say anything else, a loud banging noise resonates through the house and Misty stifles the urge to cover her ears. Cordelia doesn’t even look surprised or fazed, she is the embodiment of calm in this instant. “Emma, did you steal my curling iron again?!” The words are screamed by a high-pitched voice as another loud bang seems to bounce against the walls. Cordelia pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, a somewhat annoyed noise escaping her closed lips.
“Well, I’m sorry but I think I’m going to have to go and handle that situation upstairs. You’re sure you’re going to be fine?” She asks, her hand finding purchase on Misty’s upper arm. The unexpected touch sends little jolts of electricity along the Cajun’s skin, a delightful thing that she tries to forget about when the woman’s touch retreats.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Go, ya’re definitely needed elsewhere.” Cordelia excuses herself again before leaving rather unwillingly while Misty is left standing dumbly in the middle of the room.
So she gets to work. She first brings all the pieces inside before arranging them around the room tastefully. Every time she does this job, she forgets everything about the world that surrounds her. All the other sounds are drowned out and become nonexistent, all that matters right now are the flowers. No talking, no having to keep up pretences, all she has to do is create and arrange. This work gives her this utter sense of peace and belonging that she struggles to find elsewhere. For a couple of hours, she gets to forget about it all, the stress of school, the never ending deadlines, and the uncertainty that her future holds. So yeah, at the end of the day she is tired from having to juggle all of those responsibilities but it is pretty worth it, and she wouldn’t change any of it. Especially when she considers the fact that her life could have been very different from this if she had made a different choice five years ago.
She is almost done when Mrs Foxx comes back holding two steaming mugs. She looks like she belongs right there in the middle of this mansion, she exudes a somewhat regal energy between the clothes, the pristine hair and her exceptional posture. But there is also this sense of uncertainty that surrounds her and Misty doesn’t know where that could stem from, because from where she stands it looks like this woman has it all.
“I didn’t know if you drank tea, so I made you some.” She says as she offers Misty one of the mugs, smiling at her as Misty gratefully takes the cup. Even the mugs look fancy and Misty has to stop herself from chuckling at that.
“Tea is more than fine, thank ya.” She says, trying not to stare at the woman before her. She is indeed beautiful.
“Let’s sit.” They sit at one of the tables, Cordelia sets her mug down before looking at the floral centrepiece and running her fingers along the petals of a sweet pea. “Those are gorgeous, you and your grandmother have exquisite taste.”
“Thank ya.” They stay silent for a beat and Misty racks her brain for a question, knowing her grandmother would berate for remaining silent instead of sparking up some kind of polite chat. “What do ya do here, except stoppin’ students from burnin’ the place down?” She inquires as she brings the mug to her lips. It’s chamomile, the warm liquid hurting her already scorched tongue. But she definitely isn’t one to say no to a cup of tea.
Cordelia laughs at that, covering her mouth with her hand when she does so. The action brings a small delightful blush to her cheeks. “I teach English. And I’m the headmistress.”
“Ya look a bit young for that.” She answers, probably a bit too harshly. The headmistress furrows her brow and looks questioningly at the Cajun. Well done, another day of sticking her foot in her mouth at the first opportunity. Misty has to stop herself from just facepalming at this point, instead she settles on wishing that the earth could swallow her whole. Some days she just wishes her job didn’t entail making conversation with customers because apparently she is never going to grow out of being socially awkward.
“I’m sorry that came out all wrong.” She quickly mumbles, looking at her lap as a blush spreads on her cheeks. She really has to learn to filter her thoughts before letting the words pass her lips like a socially inept fool. “I mean ya must be really smart to be at the head of such a place so young.” Cordelia smiles at that and the Cajun finally relaxes as she realises that she has saved herself from further embarrassment.
“Non taken. I work with teenagers so I’ve heard it all at this point.” Cordelia waves her off with a little chuckle. Misty is grateful for that, knowing that people often misinterpret her words and her tone. “It’s recent actually, I’ve been the headmistress for less than a year.” She explains as she takes a sip of her tea and blows softly on the liquid.
“Well congrats then.”
“Thank you.” The headmistress ducks her head at that. But she quickly asks another question, Misty guesses that it’s probably a tactic to move the attention away from her “What about you?”
The question takes Misty by surprise. Customers usually don’t care that much about what she does. Not that she can blame them, she is there to deliver flowers and sometimes arrange them, not to tell them her entire life story. But Cordelia seems interested as she waits for Misty’s answer with wide eyes. “I’m a senior at Tulane, I’m majorin’ in Biology. And I work at my grandmother’s flower shop most days.” She offers under Cordelia’s attentive gaze.
“That seems like a lot to handle.” Cordelia answers. Misty is used to people being surprised by the way she juggles both school and an almost full time job. The headmistress already looks somewhat concerned and Misty hasn’t even mentioned the part where she is helping her cousin to raise her three year old daughter. But then this woman definitely doesn’t need to know anything about her somewhat dysfunctional family.
“I’m used to it, I guess.” Misty shrugs as she finishes her tea, settling the mug to the table and lowering her hands to her lap. “Thanks for the tea, I’m gonna finish settin’ up your flowers.” She points to the few compositions that are left on the floor against the wall, waiting to be set up in the room.
“Just come get me when you’re done. My office is to the right at the end of the hallway.” Misty nods as they both stand up, Cordelia taking away the two mugs of tea with her.
Finishing the job only takes her another twenty minutes. She takes another look around the room, she is rather satisfied with the final result, the flower compositions fit right in with the rest of the room. She wipes her hands on her overalls before heading to Cordelia’s office.
As she makes her way through the hallway, she peeks in the other rooms out of curiosity, witnessing a slew of people going to and fro as they prepare for the celebration. Nobody seems to notice her as she slowly wanders down the hallway and appreciates the beauty of the place. She is looking at the staircase when a girl collides into her from the side. She stumbles but she is quick to find her balance.
“Fuck.” The skinny blonde seethes. She straightens her very short dress. The girl is the very image of a high school bully that makes Misty unconsciously shrink on herself. Her face seems somewhat familiar but the Cajun is unable to pinpoint where she has seen it before. “Can you at least look where you’re going, swamp rat.” She spits out before pushing Misty out of the way and walking towards the staircase.
Misty stands awkwardly as she looks at the girl walking away, quite stuck by the encounter. If she had to be in Mrs Foxx’s position, she’d probably go batshit crazy before the age of thirty. And thirty would probably be pushing it. But she doesn’t say anything, she is there to arrange flowers not to pick up fights with the students, even when those students think it’s okay to treat her like garbage.
Cordelia exits her office at this exact moment, somehow attuned to the events that unfold around her. “Madison, can you please try and be polite for two seconds.” She yells as she gets closer to the master staircase. The student stops, turning around on her heels and crossing her arms across her chest defiantly.
Even the name Madison sounds somewhat familiar but the girl’s identity keeps on slipping Misty’s mind. She has the full name on the tip of her tongue but she appears to be missing something to figure it out.
“Whatever you say Cordy.” She only rolls her eyes before climbing up the stairs and disappearing. Cordelia merely sighs. She doesn’t even seem taken aback by the way the student has just addressed her. Misty notices the way she seems to hesitate between following her and letting her go. But she lets her go, turning to Misty with a strained smile on her face.
“I’m sorry for that, she is one of the tough ones. She has only been here for a couple months but she is already driving everyone crazy.” She rolls the hem of her sleeve in an anxious motion. Living with a bunch of teenagers must be taking some kind of toll on her. Damn it, Misty has only been here for a few hours and she is already craving the calm of her bedroom.
“It’s okay. I was just comin’ to tell ya that I’m done. Do ya wanna go and take a look?” She asks as she puts her hands into her pockets, rolling on the balls of her feet.
“I’d love that.” They walk to the ancestral room without talking, the bustle of the house enough to fill the gap in between them. The relative silence between them isn’t uncomfortable and Misty doesn’t feel the urge to fill it with mindless banter. Instead she takes this as an opportunity to steal a few glances at Cordelia.
Cordelia takes a turn around the room, inspecting the different compositions and stroking the petals of some of the flowers. She appears to be more relaxed as she focuses on looking at Misty’s work. The strain lines around her mouth disappear and her face breaks into a bashful smile. She comes back to Misty when she is done, her smile remaining on her lips. She is quite beautiful like this, all warm smiles and shiny brown eyes.
“It looks amazing. You have spectacular taste.” Cordelia compliments as she gives a last look around the room before turning her full attention back to the Cajun who stands there rather awkwardly.
“Thank ya.” Misty is pretty sure she is blushing, she can feel the heat slowly creeping up her cheeks. She is quite unable to accept any type of compliments, especially when it comes from pretty women.
“Let me accompany you to the door.” She offers as before guiding the Cajun to the front door, her hand hovering right under Misty’s elbow. The little space between their skin buzzes with static electricity, raising goosebumps along Misty’s skin. “It was nice to meet you, Misty. Drive safe.” She keeps on smiling charmingly at Misty, as she walks with her to the porch and the Cajun tries to pretend like she isn’t one of the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.
“It was nice to meet ya too, Mrs Foxx.” Misty answers before leaving the mansion. As she walks down the small pathway and closes the iron gate behind her, she takes a last look at the mansion before sitting in the truck and driving home.
—--------------------
When she gets home, Mallory and Claire are already there, huddled on the couch as Mallory reads The Little Prince to her daughter for the umpteeth time. At this point Misty is pretty sure she could quote at least half of the book by memory. The quote that has always stood out to her is the one that goes “It is lonely when you’re among people, too.”. The first time she had read it, she had this instant feeling of understanding. She grew up in a very small town in Louisiana and when she had moved to New Orleans to live with her grandmother and Mallory, she had been so surprised by the way she had felt so lonely in the middle of huge crowds. Growing up, she knew every single one of her neighbours and it always felt like there was no secret in the little town, whatever you did, someone always figured it out. But out here, in this big city, everyone is a stranger, a face that passes you by in the street and that you won’t remember in a few hours.
She grabs a peach from the kitchen before heading to the living room and sitting on the armchair that faces the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest. “Misty!” Claire exclaims, her attention taken away from the book. Misty barely has the time to blink before her niece is climbing on her lap and wrapping her chubby arms around the Cajun’s neck. She then sloppy kisses her cheek before returning besides Mallory.
“How was the job at the Academy?” Mallory asks as she starts playing with Claire’s hair. The toddler occupies herself, turning the pages of her book with an extremely focused expression on her face. It almost looks like she is reading.
“It was fine. The headmistress was really nice actually.” Misty shrugs, taking another bite of her peach and letting herself melt into the armchair, her sacrum popping with the motion.
Mallory covers Claire’s ears with a bashful smirk on her face. “Is “nice” a code for hot?” She asks, her eyebrows raising suggestively as she does so. Misty can’t help herself but cover her face with her hand as she stifles a chuckle. What is it with Mallory and thinking that Misty has a crush on some of the women she mentions?
“Mall!” She yells, grabbing the pillow that pokes uncomfortably into her back and throws it at Mallory. Her cousin grunts when the pillow hits her head and catches it before it can fall to the floor. “I swear to God. Can ya just not for a second?” The Cajun stands up to go to the kitchen and throw the peach pit, ruffling Mallory’s hair as she passes by her, knowing pertinently that her cousin hates it. As much as it annoys her, she still enjoys the sisterly bickering with her cousin because Mallory always manages to bring a smile to her lips. Even when she is making fun of her.
She throws the pit in the bin before coming back to the living room and sitting next to Mallory on the couch, stifling the urge to throw another pillow at her just for the sake of it. “I was just asking.” Mallory says, her face conveying the complete opposite. There is this little twinkle in her eyes that tells Misty that this isn’t over and that she will probably find a way to bring up the subject again. “Anyway, how did it go?” Mallory eventually asks.
“It was pretty fast, they just needed flowers for the 200th anniversary of the institution. Honestly bein’ there for like two hours and a half made me glad I never had to go to boardin’ school.” Mallory seems enraptured by Misty’s tale and the Cajun isn’t sure why. But it’s nice to see her cousin so invested in her life, knowing that they will have each other’s backs no matter what. “Enough ‘bout me. How did the interview go?” She then asks, far more interested in knowing about Mallory’s day. Her cousin has been talking about her interview for weeks, always mentioning how this one internship is the perfect one. She knows how stressed Mallory has been about this interview, she has been going on about this place for months, immediately applying when internship places had cleared up. And Misty just hopes that she is going to get the job, because she deserves it more than anyone else she knows.
“I think it went pretty well. They said I would hear back from them before the end of next week so until then fingers crossed.” Mallory throws her legs over the armrest. “Oh yeah before I forget.” Mallory unties the woven bracelet from her wrist before giving it back to Misty, who immediately ties it on her own wrist, too scared to lose such a treasured possession.
“Thanks.” She says before standing up. “I’m just gonna go to my room and study for a bit. Just call me if ya need anythin’.” Mallory nods and so Misty heads to her room, glad to finally be alone after a long day. Her bedroom is the place in which she feels the most at home, surrounded by her plants, her records and her mess. But most of all, she welcomes the silence that the room offers. She likes people and she likes being around others but there is intrinsic solace in being alone that she cannot find anywhere else. And so after a long day, her bedroom is the perfect place to unwind.
She unties the bandana from her hair and slips into more comfortable clothes. She throws her textbooks and her laptop on the bed, before also throwing her school bag for good measure. Studying is somewhat boring and monotonous but sadly the coursework just won’t learn itself. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy learning about biology and cells and organisms, it’s just that right now she would just rather slip under the covers and sleep for several days, or maybe a whole week. She rubs her eyes for the second time in less than a minute as she stares at her laptop screen, a headache already forming right behind her forehead.
But she gets the work done, well most of it anyway. Closing her laptop and tearing her eyes away from the screen grants her instant relief, but her headache blooms behind her forehead and so she massages her temples, hoping for some kind of relief. She lets herself fall backwards in her bed, her head bouncing against the pillow. She doesn’t dare close her eyes for fear of falling asleep, so instead she stares at the ceiling. Her thoughts float around her brain in a jumble of unrelated ideas. Every time she tries to grasp at something, it slips away from her fingers and so she relishes in the idea of not thinking for once, of just letting go.
But her stomach starts rumbling loudly and she has no choice but to get out of bed. She drags her feet to the bathroom first. The night has already fallen outside, from the windows she can see the streets illuminated by the curved streetlights, some cars drive by, the sounds of motors dying as they drive away. She first takes a quick shower, letting the warm water soothe her muscles and ease her mind. She quickly puts her pyjamas on as her stomach keeps on rumbling.
When she steps into the kitchen, her grandmother is already preparing dinner, the heady smell of food fills the small kitchen and Misty's mouth is already watering. “Dinner’s almost ready. I’m just waiting for Mallory to put Claire to bed.” Eileen explains before turning back to the stove.
“I’ll set the table.” Misty says as she yawns before reaching for the dinnerware in the cabinet. Setting the table is pretty quick, considering it’s just the three of them. So Misty serves herself a glass of orange juice and sits on a chair as Eileen finishes dinner. She is telling them about how the job at the Academy went when Claire and Mallory pad into the room.
Claire is all ready for bed, her chestnut hair is braided into two French braids and she clings to her favourite plushie. Mallory picks her up so they can do their little nighttime ritual. First she kisses Eileen. “Night Night MeeMaw.” She says in the sweetest voice before waving at her.
And then she kisses Misty. “Night Night Misty” She repeats the exact same motions.
And then Mallory brings her to bed. Misty takes that as an opportunity to finish telling her grandmother about her day. It only takes Mallory fifteen minutes to put Claire to bed this time. And when she comes back into the kitchen, Eileen is setting her pot in the middle of the kitchen table and sitting down.
Dinner is a rather lively affair where they talk about their day amongst other things. Misty tries to follow the conversation but neither her brain nor her eyes are cooperating. Her brain feels like mush at this point and her thoughts have grown rather hazy with sleep, while her eyes keep shutting on their own accord. But she pushes through it, knowing very well she won’t remember half this conversation tomorrow morning.
When she stands up and starts cleaning up, Eileen waves her off and whispers a caring “Just go to bed.” So Misty brushes her teeth before heading to her bedroom. Slipping under the covers feels like a warm embrace and it seems as if her bed has never felt that comfortable before. That night, sleep swallows her as soon as her head hits the pillow.
—--------------------
When she steps into the lecture hall the next morning, Zoe is waiting for her, already sitting in her usual seat and checking her phone. When Misty sits next to her, Zoe is already pulling her missing textbook out of her back and handing it to Misty.
“Thanks. I thought I was gonna have to buy a new one.” Misty hugs the book to her chest before growing serious. She has been waiting since yesterday to ask this question and her patience is slowly meeting its limits. “So what’s goin’ on with Kyle?” Her question is concise and straight to the point, trying to avoid having Zoe beat around the bush for too long.
Zoe’s smile fades at the question as her expression grows forlorn. She runs her fingers over the spine of her textbook. “I mean it’s pretty much the same old thing really.” Zoe shrugs and her shoulders drop. She sighs wistfully before continuing. “I told him that I felt a bit left behind. Because he spends all of his time doing things for the frat and hanging out with the frat guys. While I’m just an afterthought really. And that it feels like I’m the only one who is invested in the relationship. So we fought. Again. And I said some things I didn’t mean and he probably did do. And then I said “I’m just done” and I stormed out of the room. Which wasn’t the smartest move but we haven’t talked ever since and now I don’t really know where we stand.” Zoe shrugs and Misty settles on squeezing her shoulder as a way to comfort her. “What would you do?” She inquires, her gaze settling on Misty. The remnant of tears and lack of sleep is obvious on her face between the prominent dark circles and the fact that her eyes are still a bit red.
She knows Zoe was going to ask that question, she always does. Misty doesn’t know how she always ends up in this situation, maybe she should become some kind of relationship counsellor at this point. And so this is the moment when she has to pretend she knows how their relationship works. Well at least it’s not a question like “What do you think he means by that?” or “Do you think he likes me?” because her comprehension of men is just basically nonexistent. “I think ya just just wait a few days, like that ya both have time to calm down and think ‘bout it. And then ya should see each other and talk ‘bout it. But actually talk this time.” She gently offers, thinking that maybe they both need a little bit of space.
“How do you always know what to say?” Zoe asks and Misty is quite shocked that her friend finds her advice genuinely helpful.
“That’s my secret.” Misty smirks bashfully as she looks for her pencil case, which seems to be playing hide and seek at the bottom of her bag.
Class is pretty much the same as always but it’s easier to follow when she feels rested and she knows that Zoe is actually doing fine. Because Misty doesn’t have to work today, they go back to Zoe’s place to have lunch and study. Misty only writes about half of her essay before getting distracted and distracting Zoe in the process. Maybe studying with other people around just isn’t a good idea, she goes into it thinking she’ll be productive every time. But she always ends up being disturbed by the smallest things : the sound of Zoe’s keyboard, the creaking wooden floor from Zoe’s upstairs neighbour but also the repetitive hum of her friend’s refrigerator, a seemingly minuscule sound that becomes a grating noise against her ear drums after a while.
And so she leaves Zoe’s place because she has to pick up Claire at daycare, wondering how she is going to finish her essay before tonight. When they arrive, the apartment is empty and Claire immediately runs to the fridge, a move obviously inspired by her favourite aunt. So Misty makes them a snack and berates herself internally when the toddler ends up smearing chocolate spread all over her shirt. But well, at least the little gremlin is happy. After a quick change of clothes, and a heady amount of stain remover, Misty brings Claire to her room, hoping that her niece will want to do a quiet activity so she can at least attempt finishing writing her essay.
Claire loves Misty’s room and she is always over the moon at the idea of spending time in there. The door is barely open when the toddler barges into the room, already running towards Misty’s record player. She runs her chubby fingers on the records, her eyes wide with excitement and admiration. And Misty just stands in the doorway, wondering how Mallory ended up giving birth to such a cute kid.
Misty walks up to Claire and crouches in front of her. “We can listen to some music later if ya want. What ‘bout doin’ somethin’ calm for now?” She offers, hoping Claire is going to take the bait, because she really needs to write her essay if she doesn’t want to miss the deadline. Maybe if she stopped living on the edge and stopped writing her essays on the day they are due, she wouldn’t be there. But then, this has been working pretty well for her in the past three and a half years, so why change a working tactic?
“Can I draw?” The three year old asks as she rolls on the balls of her feet.
“Of course ya can.” Misty hands her colouring pencils and a drawing pad. Claire sits in front of the Monstera, looking at the plant for about thirty seconds, her expression growing focused and insanely mature for a three year old. Misty loves seeing her like this, she feels this little ball of love settling in her chest as she watches her niece pick up a brown pencil and doodling something on the drawing pad.
And so she settles on her bed with her textbooks and her computer, staring at the blinking writing cursor, hoping that this will give her some inspiration. Obviously that doesn’t work, so she opens up her textbooks instead, taking her few notes when inspiration finally sparks.
She is making reasonable progress when she hears the front door open and the telltale sound of a purse hitting the ground. Even Claire raises her head at that, lowering her pencil and pad to the floor. Her eyes widen when she meets Misty’s gaze and she is already standing before the Cajun even lifts her fingers from the keyboard.
“Come on, your mom is home.” Misty says as she moves the laptop from her lap and stands up. Claire is faster than her, running towards the front door quite fastly. Mallory is still in the hallway when the toddler comes running at her and collides into her legs. Mallory braces herself for the impact, barely swaying when her daughter hits her legs.
“How was class?” Misty asks, seeing that Mallory is already bending down to pick Claire up.
“The same as always.” She shrugs as she positions her daughter on her hip and kisses the top of her head. “Hey munchkin, I missed you.”
“I missed you too. Mama, can we listen to Stevie?” Claire asks as she bounces on Mallory’s hip, and Misty has no choice but to chuckle at that.
“Mist, I’ve already told you not to turn my daughter into a Fleetwood Mac fan.” Mallory pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice is petulant and exasperation laces her tone. Misty stifles her violent urge to laugh. It’s not that her cousin hates Fleetwood Mac, it’s just that having to listen to it everyday ever since Misty moved in has clearly taken a toll on her. But then Claire had come along and she has always seemed to like their music. So it’s literally impossible for Misty not to share her favourite band and her favourite singer with her niece.
“I didn’t do anythin’!” She yells as she throws her hands into the air. Already heading away from the hallway, a very good tactic to avoid any kind of further quarrelling. Mallory shakes her head at that but before she can say anything, her daughter is the one asking a question.
“Please, can we listen to the song that goes “Special knowledge holds true”?'' Claire goes on, singing Crystal in the cutest and most endearing way possible, ending the bickering right there. Once she starts singing and looking that cute, there is no way that either of them can say no.
“It’s “special knowledge holds truth” sweet pea.” Misty corrects her, and the toddler nods before singing the song again and Mallory looks a bit exasperated at that.
“Okay but just that one.” Mallory gives in, rolling her eyes as she lowers the toddler to the floor.
“Yay!” Claire screams joyfully before running to the living room. And so they follow her.
“If she ends up having the same music taste as you, you’ll be the one buying her the records.” Mallory jokes before bumping her shoulder into Misty’s.
The rest of the night is pretty eventless and calm. Misty somehow manages to finish her essay two whole hours before the deadline which is no small feat considering how much time she has spent staring at the writing cursor. There is this immense sense of relief that washes through her when she submits her essay, especially considering the fact that she won’t have to write another one for at least a week.
And because she finishes it earlier than planned, she finds the time to put a Stevie record on and sit on the floor next to the record player, with a steaming mug of tea. She finds a blissful solace between the velvety voice of Stevie Nicks and the sound of rain softly thrumming against the nearby window. She stretches her legs languishly in front of her and lets her mind wander over the past few days. She thinks of Mallory’s job interview and of Zoe’s relationship problems, always attuned to the emotions of people she is close to. She thinks of her job at the Academy and at how good the whole setup had turned out, but also about how welcoming and warm Cordelia was. Maybe Mallory was right, maybe she has a little crush. But now that her job is done, she won’t have to see that woman ever again so it doesn’t really matter.
She loves spending some of her time like this, letting the sounds of her surroundings relax her while she drinks a hot cup of tea. Sometimes it’s nice to just sit down and think, to let go of her fast-paced life and to let herself feel things. The world can be overwhelming and overbearing, between the sounds, the people, the speed of modern life and so she cherishes in so little moments when she can just let everything go and think.