14. Some Heroes Wear Rainbow Capes [Part 3]

Manon and Ari were in awe of their mother. She wasn't used to it — I could see it in the way she blinked down at them in surprise while they hugged her, shouting excitedly. Ari had dug up the roll of tape from her jeans pocket and stuck the flag to her mother, singing some pronoun song I'd never heard before. Elizabeth laughed, a little cautiously, biting her lip as she looked at her kids, suddenly more vulnerable than I'd ever seen her.

I felt like shit. Worse than shit. Cow manure. Mass-production cow manure. Or organic. Whichever smelled worse.

Every time I'd assumed some bad thing about her, she'd proved me wrong. Every single time.

And still, I'd been afraid she wouldn't be in my corner.

As soon as the kids had digested the whole event, she sent them to the living room to watch a movie. She leaned against the kitchen counter, her hair a little electrically charged due to the flag still hugging her body, blowing into the hot cup of tea in her hands. She winced. "You were afraid I'd be like her?" she asked, referring to when she came to ask me to work for her. "Do I look that repressed?"

I managed a small smile. "No. Especially not like this."

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, and her eyes sparked to life. "I definitely make it work, don't I? Maybe I missed my call. I could be a good lesbian, I think. Women are much more beautiful anyway. And it would certainly make relationships a whole lot easier."

I had planned to say something about homophobes coming in all shapes, colors, and sizes, only I was temporarily dumbfounded by the image she'd just planted in my mind. Oh, boy. Don't think about how beautiful the straight girl is. Don't don't don't. My treacherous stomach did a backflip— it'd always been much more athletic than the rest of me.

The grin vanished. "Oh. Am I not supposed to joke about that?" She tugged at the flag self-consciously, as if debating if she should take it off.

"No! No, that's fine. It's just—" There was a lump in my throat, but my hands were shaking too violently to take a sip of my tea. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Elizabeth." Damn it. For the second time that day, I was tearing up, staring at the ceiling to try to keep it in.

"For what?"

I looked down again. She seemed confused, searching my face for who knows what. "Causing all this trouble," I said. "I didn't mean to. And this afternoon, I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. You were just trying to be nice."

She frowned, one finger trailing the handle of her mug. "Help me here. Are you apologizing because one of the neighbors is a shitty person?" Well. When you put it like that... "Look. I hired you. I knew what all these white snobs were going to think when I did. I suspected it might have some consequences. But that's on them, not on you. So, don't apologize. You deserve better than that."

Oh no. I hid my face in my hands, embarrassed that I was crying in front of her, sobbing like some toddler who wasn't allowed to have candy. She was so nice. So good. How could I ever have doubted her? Me and my stupid prejudices. "I'm sorry," I managed to say, wiping my cheeks dry with my sleeve. "Sorry. It's just... that's so sweet."

She chuckled, handing me a kitchen towel. "I think it's what TikTok calls 'the bare minimum'."

I looked at her, a smile breaking free as she looked back, finally acknowledging our shared rampages through the app. "Nah, it's definitely more." Suddenly, I felt calmer, all warm inside, and I wished it would've been normal for us to hug. "You do realize she's going to tell people you're gay now, don't you?"

She snorted. "Good. Let her. They already think I'm a slut, so this can be the icing on the cake." A frown. "Maybe it'll keep the men away instead of attracting them like bees to honey."

I laughed. I laughed really hard, having to seek support from the fridge as not to end up on the floor. "Hate to break it to you," I managed to say, "but it doesn't work. They'll just ask if they can watch."

The disgusted face she pulled was enough to send me into a second wave of laughter. When I calmed down, she was gazing into her mug. "I just hope she won't tell their grandmother," she said. "Mrs. Miller is no less of a bigot than she is."

I shrugged. "Who cares? She doesn't own you."

At that, she sighed, looking at me with something that almost felt like fondness. "You can be clueless sometimes," she said. She gestured around her. "I don't own this house, Jessie. Your salary? Miss Schneider's salary? The girls' tuition? The Millers pay for it. All of it. When Connery divorced me, he had the better lawyers, so I was left with nothing." She gave me a sad smile. "Did you really think I could afford all this? I'm assistant to the Economic Development Director at city hall. It's lucky the Millers love their grandchildren, or the four of us would be living in a one-bedroom somewhere."

Oh. Well, that was a revelation I hadn't seen coming. She played her part so well, in her pencil skirts and blouses and with her perfect make-up, strutting around the mansion and driving through the city in her BMW. A flash of anger rippled through me, for this bastard of a man who continued to hurt her and the kids even from an ocean away, denying her independence. I would've liked to have said I would've chosen my pride above a life of luxury, but I didn't think it'd be true. A single mother with no money, in this country? Good luck.

Look at her. So strong and beautiful, trying to do right by her kids. And I got to be the one working for her. "Elizabeth?"

"Hm?"

"Can I give you a hug?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around her like she was expecting to find a second Elizabeth slurping tea somewhere. She tensed — I could see it so clearly, the muscles in her neck and her hands, and I figured she'd say no. Then, she set down her mug and, with a hesitant move that reminded me of Camille, opened her arms, ever so slightly. "Err... Alright."

I probably should've approached her slowly, only I was so stunned she'd agreed, and really, it'd been way too long since I'd hugged another full-sized human. So, I practically jumped into her embrace. She chuckled as I wrapped my arms around her — and yeah, maybe I closed my eyes, and maybe I took in the spicy scent of her hair, and maybe, maybe I enjoyed it a little too much. Could you blame me? She placed her hands on the small of my back, lightly, like she was afraid to really hold me. "Thank you," I muttered near her ear.

When I let go, she was blushing, turning her head so her gorgeous hair fell down her face, hiding her flaming cheeks. "Yes, well. It's nothing."

I smiled. This woman, who could force people to do her bidding with one glare, was reduced to a shy mess just because of a simple hug. "Now, look who can't accept a nice gesture," I said. She laughed, so bashful that she reminded me of Camille, and I realized how often she'd been doing that lately. She was so brave, braver than I'd ever been, doing her best to raise the kids without their dad, ignoring all the gossip about her, making some money so at least she had something for herself, hiring me even though the Millers would disapprove. Maybe, just maybe, I should be taking a leaf out of her book and read it too. "I'll do it, okay?" I heard myself say. "I'll take the classes."

"Good."

"After all, I need to be able to understand what the Karen's and Chad's are saying when they use all those fancy words."

She winced. "Oh god. I called her Karen."

"Yes, you did. And you had every right to."

"Can you believe my blackmail worked, though?" She seemed smug about it, and I wondered if she was replaying the scene in her mind.

"Yeah, about that. How did you know about those weekends?" It wasn't like she had any friends around here, so she couldn't just tap into the gossip channel.

She looked at me like she looked at Camille when the kid mispronounced a word. "I didn't. I guessed."

"You guessed?"

"Yes. My mother used to say: 'the ones who preach the hardest sin the most'."

"Damn. You are my new hero. And the kids', I think. They're both so impressed with what you did."

She nodded slowly, trying to keep the pride from showing on the outside, but considering the flag around her shoulders, she was fighting a losing battle. "Ah, yes. We should probably figure out their punishment."

My jaw slacked. "Punishment?" I'd sooner eat my right shoe, and it was the best shoe I had left. These wonderful tiny humans had defended me from a self-righteous piece of shit, and she wanted to punish them for it?

"Yes." She nodded gravely. "I was thinking we could make brownies, and they can stay up late. What do you think?"

I laughed. Some day, I would stop falling for that. "In my extremely professional opinion," I said, puffing my chest out, "I think cupcakes would be better."

She rolled her eyes at me, and my ever so athletic stomach copied the movement. Oh, I so had the best job in the world.