Page 15 of Trusting the Fall

“What?” I rear back with a playful scoff. “You can wear red anytime you want. Doesn’t have to be for men.” I dig through my case, looking through all the lip colours. There’s a beautiful deep red that calls to me, but I opt for the one beside it instead. It’s a soft rose colour, just enough depth to be confident but still flirty.

“Still,” she shrugs, “I want to relax tonight.”

I syphon through another bag to find a lip liner that matches the lipstick, my mother’s words swirling in my head. Like a tornado, the words toss and turn, trying to latch onto something with substance. But there’s nothing to anchor them. My mother is lost, floating in her own storm and letting the hurt penetrate her. She doesn’t know how to dance in the rain. Her umbrella stays up, repelling whatever threatens to get close and soak through.

I pick a pencil that’s slightly darker than the lipstick and guide it around her lips. My eyes follow the path in between small glances at my mother’s eyes.

She stares off into the distance, and I feel like this is the first time I’m really noticing the mask she wears.

My mother has always been firm and direct with the outside world, saving any softness she’s capable of strictly for me. She raised me to be confident and ambitious, taking any opportunity to praise me for anything I did in life. She’s always been a proud mother. But I think along the way, she’s forgotten how to be a proud woman. A happy one.

“You look really pretty, Mum,” I say as I bring the lipstick to her lips. They stretch out into a smile as I paint them pink.

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“I hope you have fun tonight.”

She smacks her lips together once I finish. “I’m sure I will,” she says, jumping off the kitchen stool and heading in the direction of her bedroom to put on her dress. “Hazel Heart always puts on a good event.”

“Oh, Heart City royalty is paying tonight? It’s bound to be good then,” I call out in response and start packing my makeup into the rolling case I brought over.

Mum comes out of her bedroom, a black cocktail dress moulded to her slight figure. The thin straps sit gently on her toned shoulders. In her mid-forties, my mother is still a knockout. She’s a Pilates junkie and it shows in her toned body.

It was my mum that got Lex into yoga when we were teens. I’m not a morning person, but my bestie is. Whenever she came for a sleepover, she’d be waiting a good few hours before I got up. She used to just lie in bed and wait for me, but eventually, she got bored, and one morning, she left my room to make breakfast without me and came across my mum doing yoga.

I like that it was something they shared and could enjoy together. Lex didn’t have her own mother to bond with, and I think my mum liked having someone to share that with, too. They both knew that was not the form of exercise I preferred.

“Woohoo, hot mama.” I smile, grinning bigger when my mother’s cheeks turn pink.

She waves me away with one hand while gold heels hang from the other. “Can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, and pick up the small glass of wine she poured me when I got here. Tipping it back, I walk into the kitchen to leave the now-empty glass.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” she asks.

“I’m not sure. Lex is working. I suppose I could get dressed up and go sit at her bar and annoy her.”

“You should,” Mum says, buckling her heels. “You’re young, and it’s a Saturday night. Go have some fun while you can.”

Ishouldgo and have fun. I don’t want to forget that feeling, the one my mum has.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I weigh up my options. I could go to Hallucinogens and chat with Lex while she works, have a dance by myself, and maybe meet someone to let loose with. But that thought instantly reminds me of the guy I met at The Wayside last week. Nowhewas fun. But he was also different.

I like how it felt with him, the way our bodies created a buzzing friction together. Feeding off every touch.

I like how it felt like something we were sharing between the two of us, like a secret. It wasn’t just two people getting off for their own agendas. He listened to my body, he searched for the ways I responded to his fingers against my skin, all while his words whispered in my ear.

He was like thunder. I didn’t only hear him, but I felt that rumble deep inside, beating against my rib cage. It was that anticipating feeling, knowing that the rain was coming, bringing with it that comfort in the way it smelled when it soaked the earth. The sensation of the droplets hitting your skin and gliding down with ease, you can feel every inch it hits.

My mother might not know how to dance in the rain, but I do. And the last time I saw him, I told him exactly where he could find me if he wanted to. And now, I desperately want to know if he does.

“Yeah. I think I will.” I pop the handle on my case up so I can walk it out to my car and kiss my mother’s cheek as I pass her. “Love you.”

“Love you too, Claire Bear.”

When I get home, I decide to take just a little bit of my mother’s advice.

I put on a little black dress.

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