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“Of course we can watch Maggie for the weekend–” Henry’s eyes go wide and he stares at her in that way she knows to read as ‘ask me first!’. She stares right back at him, wide-eyed in that “what, would we really say no to my sister?’ kind of way and Henry knows when a fight is lost before it’s begun. Of course they wouldn’t say no to Bethany–nor to her daughter, their beloved eleven-year-old niece.
Eliza continues. “How about seven? We’ll do dinner, get her settled in, maybe,” Eliza falters briefly. “Maybe watch a movie?” She rallies. And, true to form, Henry looks considering. Eliza knows he’s considering more smoked salmon tagliatelle with lemon pangrattato instead of mac & cheese, and a documentary about something like Egyptian canals instead of the latest Marvel flick, but they’ll find a compromise. They always do.
Promises and plans made, Eliza soon hangs up the phone to face him.
“Eliza,” he starts, a little weary-sounding, but she cuts him off with a look.
“One,” she holds up a finger, steps closer to him. “I know we didn’t have any plans this weekend that can’t be changed.”
He looks almost comically offended, and she knows he’s not mad. “How do you know I didn’t plan you an elaborate surprise party complete with kegs and– and other party things?”
She doesn’t dignify that with a response, just raises one perfectly manicured eyebrow and he grins. “Two.” A second finger held up and another step closer. “We would not say no to a completely reasonable request from a beloved family member that, while a little out of the blue, isn’t really a hassle.” He grants that with a tilt of his head.
“And three,” she steps into the waiting circle of his arms as her mood turns more serious and instead of putting up that third finger, she lays her hand against his chest. “Apparently Maggie’s having kind of a hard time right now.”
His grip on her closes a little tighter. “Is she okay? Do we–is there something we can do?”
Eliza smiles, because she really does like it when he goes all protective like this. “Yes, actually, there is. We let her stay with her cool aunt and less-cool-but-still-pretty-great uncle for the weekend.”
Henry huffs a brief laugh at the title and Eliza knows she’s won. “Alright,” he grins, knowing when he’s beat. “Alright.”
–
Henry is busy in the kitchen when the doorbell rings (they compromised on fusilli with roasted red pepper mornay sauce or, as she likes to call it “fancy pink mac and cheese but with corkscrews” simply for the exasperation on Henry’s face), so Eliza is the one to answer. Hugs (and sisterly jabs) are exchanged before Eliza greets their charge for the weekend and is suddenly so, so reminded of a picture of herself from middle school. Margaret, Maggie, is all gangly limbs and big glasses and awkwardness personified. The biggest difference is the unruly curls of her hair trend more strawberry blonde than Annie red. “Hey kiddo.”
But Maggie’s smile is this gorgeous thing and she flings herself into her aunt’s arms with abandon, and Eliza thanks the fact that she never skips leg day–or arm day–or core day–that she’s able to catch the attack hug gracefully.
Bethany smiles as she sets down the purple duffle with Maggie’s things. “Thanks again for this, Eliza,” she says sincerely.
Eliza gives Maggie one last squeeze before letting her go and looking at her seriously, like she’s giving her a life-or-death mission. “Why don’t you go put your stuff in the guest room, and then go bug Uncle Henry about what he’s making us for dinner, ok?”
Maggie is still grinning. “On it!” And then she’s grabbing her bag and dashing off towards what will be her room for the weekend, and everyone ignores Henry’s mutters from the kitchen about running in the house.
Bethany looks… worried, Eliza decides. Like she’s happy to see her kid so happy, but still worried–-and not like she would have been once upon a time. Before they reconciled, before Maggie came along, before Henry–before they both grew up. “I promise we made sure to cancel the strippers and party limo when you called,” she jokes.
It works, a little bit. Bethany rolls her eyes fondly at the ridiculous image. “And after Henry was so excited for them.” But the joke doesn’t last, and she sighs as the sound of running feet echo through the house behind Eliza and Maggie’s voice joins Henry’s. “I’m worried about her. I think there’s something going on at school, but she won’t tell me. She won’t tell me anything…” She pauses, blows out a breath, then looks at her sister. “But maybe she’ll tell you?”
Eliza smiles smugly to cover up the worry blooming inside her own chest. “Oh, definitely. People tell me things. People love telling me things.” She chews her lip briefly, then decides. “Come have dinner. You can take off when Henry and Maggie get into it over how many explosions tonight’s movie is gonna have.”
Dinner goes well, including Henry clutching his heart and shaking his head over the ‘utter betrayal’ of Maggie and Bethany both siding with Eliza on calling it 'pink corkscrews n cheese', emphasis on the single letter in the middle. Maggie even eats some of the roasted squash.
Just as Eliza said, Bethany leaves her daughter with a kiss on the forehead and an admonition to ‘be good’. Maggie waves her mother goodbye until she's out the door before turning back to the oh-so-serious business of movie selection.
“So it's a movie about a K-pop group?” Henry questions, all skepticism.
“Yeah, and they fight demons.” Maggie is all enthusiasm.
The skepticism grows. “With what, their music?”
“Yeah!”
He stares her down as if to judge whether she's serious, then breaks. “Well now that I have to see.”
-
Henry is pretty sure he's going to have "Golden" stuck in his head for the rest of his days. He even finds himself absently humming it later on, once Maggie is in bed and he and Eliza are ensconced on the couch. She blinks, looks up from her phone with a grin at catching him at it. "Let me guess," she says, locking her phone and dropping it on her stomach. "Your favorite character was the bird?"
The bird even reminded her a bit of him, with the exasperated eyerolls and pained expressions at the tiger's antics and all. He just shrugs as if caught, not willing to deny it. He's pretty sure he just signed himself up for Eliza's next Halloween costume, but that's alright. He looks good in black.
"So," He changes the subject firmly, sliding the bookmark into place and focusing on her, with her roan hair spread over his lap. "What are the plans for tomorrow? I assume you made some."
Her answer is immediate. "The beach--or, the pier anyway--window-shopping, maybe with a little shopping-shopping thrown in--I need a dress for that conference in a few weeks" (she ignores his muttered interjection of "need is a strong word"). "Then play it by ear and see what Maggie wants to do until it's time for DJ K-Rad's super-secret, word-of-mouth-only pop-up concert that we happen to know the time and place for in advance."
It takes Henry a moment to place 'DJ K-Rad' as Kevin Whitaker's current moniker as he splits his time between his first year of undergrad at UCLA and the occasional DJ gig like this. "You want to take an eleven-year-old to an EDM concert?"
She shrugs, at least as best she can while lying across his lap like this. "It'll be fine. It's at an outdoor venue, we can leave any time we like since we get in for free, and we'll be showing support for a friend who is apparently swiftly becoming one of the rising stars of the EDM scene." The way she says it has the cadence of a social media post, but he doesn't doubt that it's true.
"Not that you're biased or anything."
Another shrug, and a smirk. "Maybe, but you know I have excellent taste."
He can't argue with that. She knows her Next-Big-Things and the like, can often spot them a mile away--an important skill for the VP of Sales. Plus she's always willing to work with the VP of Marketing on such things. Especially since she's married to him. "I know you do. You picked me after all."
She laughs into his kiss.
--
Mom said the phone is only for emergencies Maggie thinks the next morning, looking at her bag where she knows the little device is stashed at the bottom, under her sweater. It's early, according to the clock on the bedside table. Uncle Henry and Aunt Eliza's guestroom always makes her feel so big and fancy and grown up, but no matter how comfy the bed is, she doesn't think she's getting back to sleep anytime soon. Besides, she thinks, swinging her feet to the floor, Uncle Henry usually gets up pretty early. And indeed, there he is at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, coffee in one hand and an actual, physical newspaper in the other.
He smiles when he sees her. “Good morning Maggie. How did you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” she answers, clambering up into the tall chair next to him.
“Glad to hear it. Would you like some cereal?”
Maggie starts to nod, and then remembers that while Aunt Eliza is The Coolest, Uncle Henry is much more of an Adult about things. “Um… maybe? I don’t really want any of those boring adult cereals with ‘bran’ or whatever in the name.”
Uncle Henry laughs. “Do Cheerios count as an adult cereal?”
She considers. “They’re alright…”
“Or,” Uncle Henry grins like he’s letting her in on a little secret. “We could always raid your aunt’s stash of Sugar-Frosted Choco-Bombs that she thinks I don’t know about.”
“Yeah!”
“Choco-Bombs it is.”
–
The day goes well, Eliza thinks. They go to the pier and Maggie wins a plushie at one of those water pistol games. Sure, she knows they’re rigged, absolutely, but it turns out that if you have a cute kid with you and you know the trick of it, you too can walk away with a dragon Squishmallow firmly clutched in the arms of your beloved niece.
They even manage to coax Henry into one of the photobooths along the pier. It takes all of Maggie and Eliza’s combined cajoling and pleading, and deployment of two pairs of big brown eyes, but they eventually manage to get one silly picture out of him, with the three of them roaring at each other–four, if you count the Squishmallow.
They meet up with Charmonique and Bryn for a late lunch and, if you want in-person word-of-mouth, Charmonique is your go-to girl. She tells everyone that her son has a concert coming up, including the hostess, their waiter, and even occasionally passersby at their outside table.
Eliza is impressed. Maggie makes it through twenty five minutes of dancing with wildest abandon Eliza has seen since the height of her clubbing days before she slows down to drink some water. Ten more minutes of jamming to the--she might be biased, but even objectively--really good set before Maggie decides she’s done.
Eliza gets Bryn's attention. Charmonique herself is in the front, right up by the DJ booth, dancing just as enthusiastically as anyone a third her age. “Let her know we’re heading home?” Eliza says.
Brynn nods, grins, gives Maggie a high-five. “Awesome dancing with you, Mags.”
Maggie doesn’t quite fall asleep in the backseat on the way back… but it is a near thing
--
Sunday starts much the same way Saturday did, although this time Aunt Eliza is awake to witness the Choco-Bomb theft. She fakes being mad and declares that Maggie’s punishment is to be “two noogies and you have to give Uncle Henry a big ol’ smooch on the cheek”.
Henry startles. “What? Why me?”
“You’re being punished too, you enabler of thievery.”
They wind up in the living room, the sunlight streaming through the big glass windows as the afternoon wears on, and Eliza notices that Maggie is starting to look more and more glum as the day wears on. Even getting to raid Eliza’s closet for dress up (under close supervision) only cheers her up briefly.
Even Henry notices it, exchanging a couple of worried looks with Eliza. A round of board games fails to improve the mood as the afternoon winds on into evening.
“Henry, why don’t you go start on dinner?” Eliza suggests. “I want some gossip time with my best girl.”
“Far be it from me to get between my two best girls and their gossip time,” He obliges.
The two of them wait for prep noises to start in the kitchen before Eliza turns to Maggie. “So, spill.”
Maggie frowns at her. “Spill?”
Eliza shrugs eloquently. “You know, what’s going on with you? How’s school? Any cute boys you’ve got your eye on?”
Maggie snorts. “All the boys at my school are weird and gross.”
“Yeah, most boys kind of are at that age.They get better.” She pauses. “Some of them, anyway.” But she’s getting off track, because Maggie still looks glum. “But what’s eating at you, kiddo? Do I need Aunt Charmonique to go kick someone’s ass or what?”
Maggie doesn’t answer, chewing on her lip, looking all uncertain. Eliza is trying to determine her next move–it’s never been this tough to get someone to spill their secrets to her! Usually people love telling her things!--when Maggie bursts into tears.
Eliza immediately gathers the kid into her arms, stroking her hair and making soothing noises. It’s been a few years since she last comforted a drunk girl in a club bathroom, but this is not dissimilar and her skills are not that out of practice. “Hey, hey baby girl, what’s wrong?”
It all comes pouring out in a flood. “Everyone at school hates me and makes fun of me behind my back, and I’m not pretty, and I’m too fat, and mom doesn’t get it because she said that if I just ignored them they’d stop but they haven’t and dad is always busy and he doesn’t get it either and no one cares and I hate everything and I wish I could stay here forever.”
Eliza blows out a long breath, stroking Maggie’s back as she sobs. “Damn, kid, that’s… a lot.”
Maggie pulls back after a couple of minutes, wiping at her face. “Sorry,” she mumbles, wiping at her face.
“Not at all, hey, you’vve got nothing to be sorry for,” Eliza soothes. Henry, upon hearing the outburst, had come in from the kitchen. He's still got a spatula in his hand, but Eliza thinks of something that might work a little better. “Henry? Would you get my phone?” She asks softly.
Maggie stiffens and tries to pull away even more. “You’re not gonna–gonna call my mom and never let me come back and–”
Henry’s hand, gentle on the top of her head, cuts off the catastrophizing as hands Eliza her phone. “You will always be welcome here,” he reassures.
“Always,” Eliza repeats firmly, swiping through her phone. “But. First of all you are not fat-- I mean even if you were that wouldn't be a bad thing but sometimes I'm worried you'll blow away in a stiff breeze, holy shit who sold you that one?" She finally breathes at the end of the sentence. "Second of all,” She pauses, looking at Maggie seriously. “You think I’m pretty, right?”
Maggie and Henry’s disbelieving snorts of laughter are weirdly identical. “Duh.”
“Right? I’m gorgeous, it is known. The smokeshow. And... this is what I looked like when I was your age.” With that, she turns the phone around to show Maggie the picture that she had scrolled all the way back to find. It’s her at thirteen, sure, not eleven, but there she is, in all her frizzy-haired, giant-glassesed, middle school unfortunateness.
Maggie looks back and forth from the picture to her aunt and back, disbelieving. “That’s you?”
“Mhm,” Eliza confirms, ruefully. “High school too.” She swipes to the next picture on her phone and, yeah, there’s that terrible photo from the high school dance after Corynn had cut her hair at the sleepover and while some people might have been able to pull off choppy pixie bob, very few can pull off the prank version done by girls in the middle of the night.
Silently, she gets Henry’s attention and, to his credit, he gets it after a few quick gestures. Pharmaceutical power couple or not, they understand each other just as easily here, in the home that they’ve made together. He takes her (broadly gestured) hint that he should return to the neglected kitchen duties, leaving Maggie with one last slight ruffle of her hair. Knowing him (and she does) he probably put everything perishable away in cute little containers that she will have to go put in the dishwasher in an hour…but at least none of them will get salmonella from the chicken.
“Here.” Eliza takes her phone back and trades it for a tissue. “Wipe your glasses first,” she advises, then sighs. “Look. Right now, shit sucks.” Mags’ smile peeks out again at the swear. “But you have got so many people who love you. Your mom, your pops, your cool aunt, your admittedly less-cool but firmly beloved uncle.”
Henry’s voice drifts in from the kitchen. “Eliza, are you poisoning my niece against me with lies and calumny?”
Maggie laughs and it is small and choked-off but it is the sweetest sound in the world to Eliza.
“My point,” she raises her voice just slightly at Henry. “My point is that you’re beautiful, and those kids suck, and they’re wrong.” She looks her niece up and down. “And you're gorgeous and absolutely not fat, can I just stress that one again?”
There’s a hint of a smile on Maggie’s face. “Thanks Aunt ‘Liza.”
Eliza isn’t sure if Maggie believes her, but it’s a start. "So.” She tosses the phone to the couch now that she’s done showing embarrassing pictures of herself. “What are we going to do to make you feel better before your mom, who I know loves you, gets here and thinks I’ve been neglecting my best and favorite niece?”
She takes a moment to think, glasses de-smeared of tears and face wiped, even with her eyes still red-rimmed and ever so slightly puffy. “We could plot some truly epic revenge? Maybe even biblical? Heads on pikes?” Maggie suggests hopefully.
Despite herself, Eliza is impressed. “I am loving the bloodthirstiness, kiddo, really I am. But, alas, revenge never seems to work out the way you want it to. Take it from me.”
Maggie nods solemnly, like a girlish, bespectacled Yoda in pink. “Dig two graves.”
“...Something like that, yeah.” Eliza makes a decision, standing and offering her hand to Maggie. “Come on. Let’s go make Uncle Henry get us milkshakes. Sound good?”
Maggie lets Eliza pull her to her feet, and Eliza is so, so relieved to see that the hint of a smile is staying put now, not vanishing like the sun behind clouds. “Yeah, sounds good.”
–
Ice cream and cheeseburgers happen, and when Bethany comes to pick up her daughter, things are okay again. As Bethany hugs Eliza goodbye, she whispers in her ear. “You find out anything?”
Eliza draws back, sharing a look with Maggie. “Just that my niece is the best kid in the world, but I already knew that.” She’ll text Bethany later, she resolves, with a few more details. Maybe not everything, but Bethany should at least know that he kid could use a little more support–and maybe a little more time with her fun aunt.
Later, Henry watches from their bed as she goes through her nightly skincare routine. He was told her that he thought it had far too many steps and, in retaliation, she had narrated each step and each product and what it was for and why it was for that until he had finally gotten her to stop by distracting her with kisses. She catches his eye in the mirror. “You look like you're pondering something.”
He shrugs easily, waits until she’s finished and slipped under the covers and up against him. “You were really great with Maggie this weekend," he tells her earnestly. A considering him of agreement. "You know, I really was." A beat where she makes him wait for the rest of it. She doesn't have to actually see his eyebrows inching up to know the expression on his face. "You weren't half bad yourself." His huff of laughter is more felt than heard, but still full of fondness. Another moment and he adds, contemplatively, half hope, just throwing the idea out there. "Maybe it’s time to revisit that conversation about little Korean red-headed babies.”
In the dark, Eliza laughs, leans up to kiss him, and says , all warmth echoes of his own consideration. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”