AGE EIGHT
I have an unhealthy obsession.
Or maybe a few.
Not sure what that expression means. Unhealthy obsession. But I heard Mum’s therapist friend tell her that once.
She said Mum needed to control herself and not let her obsessions take hold of her or else it’ll start to affect me.
I think it’s too late and Mum has already passed that gene down to me.
When she was sleeping, I tiptoed to the living area, took the tablet and hid under the blanket, and typed the term on Google.
It was dark except for the tablet’s light that I brought down to its lowest level so Mum wouldn’t catch me. She doesn’t like me staying up past my bedtime.
She doesn’t like me to do many things, actually.
Like being too friendly, talking to people, or playing.
I should always be studying to become something important and make her proud.
I should always remember that ever since Papa drowned last year while saving me, we’re on our own.
Papa might have been a knight and part of the aristocracy, but he accumulated enough debt that cost us our house and everything we owned.
Mum managed to marry a lord soon after. Uncle Henry is nice. He paid all our debts and treats me better than my mum sometimes. He doesn’t tell me to always eat my vegetables or study or not make friends because they’ll use me.
He tells me I’m smart, too, which Mum has never said, even when the teachers tell her that.
But I’m not smart enough to understand what “unhealthy obsession” means on my own, which is why I searched it last night while I was holding my breath and typing with sweaty fingers.
The results that showed up made my mouth fall open.
An unhealthy obsession is to have an extreme interest in something or someone.
It’s to constantly think about them.
It’s to do something repetitively, even against your will.
It’s to have a compulsive preoccupation with them and being unable to chase them away, no matter how much you try.
I stared at the words written on the tablet in disbelief. How is it possible that they found exactly how I feel about things?
Are they psychic?
The thought made me shiver and I had trouble getting to sleep. So I kept reading on and on about obsessions, especially the unhealthy type. And the more I read, the harder I was struck.
It was as if someone had peeled my skull open and poured hot liquid inside it.
That liquid has been burning my brain ever since. Maybe this is one of the times where I have to put on a smile and pretend everything is fine as Mum taught me to.
Never show people how you feel, Nicole. Always wear a smile and be on your best behavior like a lady should.
Her words flow through my veins instead of blood. Everything she told and taught me is always the first thing I think about before I do anything.
She saved us, my mum. She got a rich, influential husband who’s also nice and lets us live a luxurious lifestyle.
I think she had to make him divorce his previous wife and leave his biological daughter behind, but that’s okay, right?
If Uncle Henry wanted them, he wouldn’t have left them.
They’re lower class, Mum said. They don’t fit with him like you and I do, Nicole. You’re lucky I made this life happen for us, so don’t screw it up.
I won’t.
I can’t.
I’m lucky.
So I don’t even talk about Papa. I miss him, but if I tell Mum that, she’ll be angry.
I don’t want her to be angry, which is why I can’t be a disappointment.
She’s done everything for us, so I have to lower my head and follow the rules.
That’s why I’m smiling at one of her friends now. Mum is hosting a tea party in Uncle Henry’s mansion and invited other powerful men’s wives and their children.
I took them on a tour earlier and showed them my toys. Uncle Henry bought me many of them—after Mum made me donate the ones Papa gave me.
She told me they’re cheap and not suitable for our current standing.
I hid one small doll that has peach-colored hair and a snow globe that Papa brought me for my fifth birthday. I don’t care if they’re cheap. I like them better than the expensive ones. It’s weird, but I can still smell Papa on them and it makes me calmer.
I hid them so the children won’t touch them. They can play with all the other toys, but not those two.
The whole time, I kept smiling and laughing and being the perfect child that Mum has brought me up to be.
“Nicole is so well-mannered.”
“She’s like an adult in a little body.”
“Mark my words, Nicole will grow up into a fine young lady.”
“Like mother, like daughter. You raised her so well, Victoria.”
That’s what all the women tell Mum, fawning over me as if I’m a miracle child.
A conservative, elegant smile pulls at her lips.
Everything about my mother is. Conservative and elegant, I mean. She’s beautiful—the most beautiful woman I know. Her blonde hair seems to be in competition with the sun on which can shine brighter. She always wears it in a neat French twist, which highlights the soft lines of her face and her full lips that she usually paints a light color.
I take after her in almost everything except for the eyes. Hers are a cobalt blue that appear as deep as the ocean and just as mysterious. Mine are green, muddy, like my papa’s.
Mum is like a goddess and I don’t think I’ll ever grow up to be as beautiful as her. Despite her appearance, she’s completely compliant with the aristocratic way of doing things. Which means she never enhances her beauty, wears red lipstick, or dresses provocatively.
Even now, she has on a soft green dress and a simple matching sweater. But she’s still the prettiest of all the women present.
And they hate that, so they talk behind her back. Once, we were at a charity event and when I went to the bathroom, I heard them call her a gold-digger and a whore who sells herself to the richest man available. Mum caught me listening and told me to go back to where the kids were.
Her expression didn’t even change, as if she didn’t hear them talk badly about her behind closed doors after praising her in front of everyone.
I think that’s how the world works. As Mum said, it’s best to never show your emotions in public.
It’s how she got this far after surviving an abusive household when she was young.
It’s how I became lucky.
So I shouldn’t be thinking about leaving the children that she explicitly told me to keep company.
The girls and I are sitting in the garden across from our mothers and having a tea party like them with my extravagant tea set.
The boys are playing football far enough away that they won’t interfere with our peaceful time.
It’s a rare sunny day in London, although the clouds sometimes decide to play peek-a-boo with the sun.
I pour more tea for one of the girls, but my attention is unfocused. Or more like, it’s stolen by something I shouldn’t be giving weight to.
The boys.
One of them, to be more specific.
His face has turned red from all the running after the ball, and his lips are parted with each pant.
He has weird hair that’s neither dark nor light, as if it couldn’t make up its mind on which color to be, so it settled on a mixture of both. Like the color of the earth under the sun and the tone of premium wood.
But his eyes are what I noticed first. They’re blue and light, but not as muted as Mum’s. They’re glinting in the sun as if they’re reflecting its warmth. As if they’re mimicking the sky and trapping the stars.
Yes, stars are visible during the day, but only through his shiny eyes. Not only can they be seen there, but they also have that magical pull.
Like Disney films and the wildest fairy tales.
His name is Daniel.
It’s a normal name on everyone else but him.
We’ve been studying in the same class ever since I changed schools after Mum married Uncle Henry.
Everyone in school loves me. The teachers, because I’m a good girl and smart. The kids, because I’m popular.
Not Daniel, though.
He’s never spoken to me. Never even looked my way.
As if I were invisible.
His mother recently became friends with Mum and this is the first time she’s invited her to our house.
I’ve been over the moon ever since I learned that he’d be coming over with his mum. I didn’t know why at first, until I learned what “unhealthy obsession” meant last night.
I think I have one for him.
Which should be stupid, considering he doesn’t even know I exist, but I always find myself watching him.
Like now.
I don’t even know what Chloe, the girl I poured tea for, just said. But I continue to nod anyway, so she’ll keep talking and I can watch him.
So I can see how he runs and tackles the ball, then scores. His teammates gang up on him and he grins.
I stop breathing.
Something happens when he grins or smiles or laughs.
His cheeks crease and one set of dimples appear. If he were an angel, those would be his wings. If he were a prince, that would be his crown.
Daniel is simply so…beautiful.
My cheeks catch fire and I focus back on Chloe for a second and laugh at something she said before I lift my head again.
This time, Daniel’s bright eyes that resemble a combination of the sky, sun, and stars are staring at me.
No, glaring.
His lips are pursed, the dimples gone, before he shakes his head and goes back to his game.
What…?
What happened just now?
Ghostly hands squeeze my chest, and my heart starts to thump loudly. I did something wrong and I don’t know what.
Why did he look at me for the first time and glare?
My fingers shake on the teacup and Mum gives me a sidelong stare. I carefully put it down, trying to breathe deeply as she taught me.
I’m going to screw up something. I can feel myself losing control and if I do, Mum will be mad.
So I stand up, smooth my white dress with lace and smile. “I’ll be right back, girls.”
I don’t wait for their replies as I walk in a brisk pace toward the house, staring at my golden flat shoes with lace ribbons that match the ones in my hair.
Today, I wore my best clothes so I’d look pretty. I even asked Mum to leave my hair loose because it makes me feel like a princess.
I wanted to be a princess because that’s what princes want.
But he glared at me.
Overwhelmed, I go to the kitchen, make sure none of the staff is looking, and then I steal two peaches. I hide them behind my back and sneak to the pool house.
The drawn-out curtains hide the light except for sneaky rays that spill through onto the wooden floor.
I sit on the carpet and kick my shoes away. I’ve always loved to sit on the ground with my feet outstretched, but Mum hates that, so I come to the pool house to do it.
This is the only place where I’m out of her sight and can do what I want.
Like eating peaches.
I’m allergic to them, but they’re my favorite food. I like the calm they bring me after every bite. So what if I have red, swollen lips? It’ll go away after a while.
Loving something that hurts you is also an unhealthy obsession, I think.
I shouldn’t be doing this when we have guests, but I’m freaking out, and peaches erase that feeling.
They’re on my side.
I take the first bite and close my eyes to enjoy the sickeningly sweet taste. My tongue tingles, but I continue chewing and sucking the positive energy. The first peach is almost finished, and I tell myself I’ll take my time with the second one.
“Peaches.”
I startle, my eyes snapping open, and that causes one of my preciously stolen fruits to roll down on the ground and bump into someone’s shoes.
Before I can be relieved that Mum didn’t catch me, I rake my gaze over the person who did.
Daniel.
He stares down at me with mild annoyance as if I’m a beggar at the side of his house who keeps blocking his way whenever he goes out.
The blue of his eyes that’s usually bright and sparkling is a little muted now, but the rays of the sun streak his hair to give it lighter strands.
Even though he was running for more than half an hour, his shirt is tucked neatly in his trousers and his face isn’t all red and sweaty like mine whenever I do any physical activity. Only a slight flush dusts his cheeks and nose.
He bends over and catches the fruit that unapologetically bumped into him, then rolls it between his fingers as if it’s the first time he’s seen one. “Do you always hide to eat peaches after being mean?”
I swallow the contents of my mouth and my lips burn as if I’ve kissed fire.
But that doesn’t matter.
Because I think Daniel just spoke to me.
For the first time in weeks, he sees me.
Just to make sure, I search around me in case someone else came into the pool house.
Maybe it’s a ghost?
Or his imaginary friend?
No. He was actually talking to me. I’m the only one hiding to eat peaches.
My brow furrows when I focus on the last bit he said. “Who’s mean?”
“You.”
“M-me?”
“You’re mean and stuck-up. I don’t care if you do it to anyone else, but if you laugh at me again, I won’t let you.”
Wait. What is he saying?
“I didn’t laugh at you.”
“You did with Chloe just now.”
“No, that’s not…” My tongue gets stuck and my words won’t come out.
Usually, eating peaches only makes my lips swollen, so why does my tongue feel numb?
“Do you enjoy acting superior when you invite people to your house?” he continues. “I can play your game, too. I’ll tell your mum that you’ve stolen peaches and are eating them. If you’re hiding to do it, then it must be a bad thing.”
“No… Don’t do that…”
My tongue barely moves and my words are drawn out. My hand involuntarily opens and the half-eaten peach falls to the ground.
“I can be mean, too.” He starts to move and I stand up abruptly.
The world spins around me and the room pulls me down. A buzz fills my ears before a thud echoes around us.
It’s me, I realize, when my blurry vision focuses on the ground.
I fell down. My limbs feel like they’re in an awkward position, but I don’t even care about that as I strain, “D-don’t…”
My eyes are half-closed but I make out his silhouette facing me again. “If this is some tactic to stop me, it won’t work.”
“Peaches…” I mumble. “I-I’m allergic to t-them…”
A body crouches by my side and then my head is placed on a warm surface. It’s Daniel’s thighs, I think, because he’s staring down at me, his eyes wide.
“Your lips are red and weird.” He reaches for me, then retracts his hand. “I’m going to tell your mum.”
I grab his wrist with my sweaty hand and dig my nails in. “N-no…she’ll punish me… I’ll be fine…”
“You don’t look fine.”
“It…will go away…”
“Are you sure?”
No. Because this is the first time I’ve gotten this dizzy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll just continue to hold me.
“It’ll go away if you keep me in this position,” I lie.
Daniel carefully removes my hair from my face. “If you’re allergic to peaches, why would you eat them?”
“B-because I like them.”
“You’re weird, Nicole.”
I’ve been called pretty and smart and a good girl, but never weird. I think I like that better.
I like not being so perfect.
“I…I have toys… My favorite doll and snow globe are behind you in the secret…d-drawer…”
“I don’t think you should be talking about toys right now.” His brow is furrowed again and I don’t like that. I want to see his dimples instead.
“G-get them…my toys…”
“For what?”
“J-just do it.”
“I think I should go find your mum.”
“N-no…please… I told you, sh-she’ll punish me.”
“Then you shouldn’t have done something you’d be punished for.”
“You do that all the time a-at school.” It’s why I noticed him in the first place. He often gets sent to the headmaster’s office for pulling pranks and generally having fun.
I liked that. The way he laughed and didn’t care what the grown-ups said about him.
I wished I could be like him.
I wished I wasn’t lucky and didn’t have to talk a certain way, walk a certain way, and breathe a certain way.
“That’s because I don’t like rules,” he says. “But I don’t go hurting myself.”
“I-it doesn’t hurt.”
“You look and sound like you’re in pain.”
“It’ll get better if…” I swallow, but my tongue feels too big for my mouth, like it’ll roll out onto the ground.
Daniel stares at me as if that’s exactly what’s happened, then he wipes the side of my mouth, where some peach-flavored drool escaped.
If my cheeks could get any hotter, they would. This is so messy and wrong, and Daniel shouldn’t witness me like this.
“If what?” he asks.
“I-if you get my toys.”
He releases a breath that sounds a bit exasperated, then keeps a hand on my head to stop me from moving as he rummages behind him in the drawer.
Soon after, he produces my doll and snow globe and puts them on my stomach. “Happy now?”
“Y-you can have it…”
“Thanks, but I don’t play with dolls.”
“N-no, you can have t-the snow globe.”
Maybe if I share my favorite toys with him, he’ll like me.
Maybe he’ll also see the beautiful girl trapped in the snow and think about how he can get her out without breaking her world apart.
“It’s nothing serious,” I blurt when he remains silent, examining the snow globe between his fingers. “It’s…it’s…because y-you’re letting me use your lap.”
He stares at the side. “Whatever.”
My heart falls and something stings in my eyes.
Ah.
Even sharing one of the last things I have of Papa didn’t work.
He might have talked to me and held me, but I’m still invisible to Daniel.
“It’s still girly,” he says.
“It’s…it’s a beautiful bride.”
“You like that? Brides?”
“I-I do…” I lick my swollen lips and try not to think of the bitterness that’s stuck at the back of my throat or how it hurts to breathe. “When we grow up, will you marry me?”
His eyes widen, but he looks away.
My heart shrivels and breaks in my chest.
Once again, it was all for nothing.
“Nicole?”
My lids slowly close and a tear slides down my cheek.
Is it the pain of the peaches or the pain of being invisible?
Maybe it’s the pain of having an unhealthy obsession.
“Nicole, open your eyes!”
For what?
My head lolls to the side and bumps against his knee. He smells like peaches.
Or maybe I do.
“I’m going to call your mum.”
The scent of peaches disappears and so does he.
And I’m left on the ground with my half-eaten peach and the doll.
Abandoned.
Lifeless.
Invisible.
