#every day is tits-out-tuesday for this swamp girl

[murmel-malt]

some outfit variations for my girl Moira

[mandoalorian]

sensational

Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺

Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3

Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.

You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.

At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.

Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.

You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.

If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.

Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.

You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.

Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.

Maxwell Lord had you whipped.

Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.

“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.

You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”

The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.

You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.

“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”

Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.

The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”

He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.

“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”

Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.

“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”

The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.

“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.

His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.

“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”

Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.

You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.

It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“

“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”

You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.

“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.

“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.

“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”

“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.

“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”

You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.

Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.

Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.

Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.

“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.

“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“

“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”

You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.

“Three, two, one—“

He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.

You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.

“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.

He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.

“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I can let you go—“

“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”

Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”

“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”

When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.

“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.

Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.

“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.

——————

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[sincerelybillie]

“oh, you must be so proud”

i pulled into the promenade towers’ parking garage, using the time until the parking attendant walked over to me, to engage in a staring contest with a  woman who very critically wondered what i was doing in her neck of the woods. she was sitting with a man at a table outside of the cafe of the shopping center that was connected to the complex. they were wearing matching tennis outfits. 

“if only she knew what her boyfriend was doing in the neck of my woods,” spoke Garnet, a specter that sometimes rides shotgun with me. i lost the staring contest by turning to look at her. 

“the guy sitting across from her?” i looked again to see that the woman had turned to him. she aggressively flipped her blonde hair over one shoulder and crossed her arms, as he retreated into his seat. Garnet nodded. i placed my forehead on the steering wheel. “fuck...”

when i sat back up, the parking attendant was smiling at me, asking with his eyes, “long day?” i greeted him, in a manner that a polite and normal person would. the gate lifted, i somehow crammed my large sports car into my narrow parking spot, and Garnet and i walked up to my studio. 

the leasing agent greeted us, me with a warm smile, and i noticed her with who i assumed to be a new tenant heading towards the same elevator as me. i decided then to take the stairs, but seeing as how i lived on the 14th floor and Garnet was already yanking me to the elevator, i inevitably ended up with the three of them. the tenant was a man about my height, who looked to be in his early 30′s but carried the sadness of someone who lived much longer and failed to fill it with things that made him happy. but whatever he spent that time doing, it afforded him this place. 

the leasing agent, Theresa, introduced us, and i wish she hadn’t. his name was Frank Gennaro, he was moving in today after living on the east coast his whole life, and he was single. Garnet perked up and looked at me, and i pretended not to notice her, which was important. because normal people weren’t supposed to notice her. 

as we ascended stories, i began to worry Frank was going to be occupying the vacant studio on my floor, the one i shared a wall with. 

Theresa does this thing where she likes to double as a matchmaker so her workday can involve something other than telling people about the unreasonable fees that make living here unattainable for the average american.

“if there’s anything i haven’t shown you or told you or answered questions about, i’m sure this wonderful lady here can help you,” Theresa said, rubbing my arm affectionately. i forced an uncomfortable smile, trying to make it look like the kind a wonderful lady would give someone. i got out first when the elevator dinged. i winced when i realized Theresa was, in fact, unlocking the apartment next door. i heard a whoosh sound and already knew Garnet was gone. the door locked behind them, and i sighed, entering my place.

i walked to the edge of my less-than-400 square foot studio and stepped into my solarium, watching the afternoon ubers and commuters and metro buses below. every time i’m up here, it feels like i’m levitating above the city. if i was more of a classist, it might actually make me feel like i’m better than everyone down there, better than the girl who was giving me death glare even though Garnet slept with her boyfriend and didn’t let me know. 

speaking of the devil, just a moment later, she phased through the wall and rushed up behind me, startling me. she laughed, knowing i had plenty of thoughts of the window somehow shattering and me plummeting to my death from the 14-story fall. i know Garnet had compulsive thoughts about pushing me, too. 

“he’s definitely single,” Garnet confirmed, not that i was curious. i checked my phone, noticing a missed call from my dad. he probably wanted me to meet some relatives for dinner in la habra, mention my degree or job or the things he can find it in his heart to be proud of me for. i texted him an apology and said i wasn’t feeling well. 

and it wasn’t a lie. i hadn’t been feeling well for awhile. Garnet had become tangible, started body snatching, and even killing people. i couldn’t really go anywhere without her, and it was hard to explain my current living situation without delving into the madness of it all. but maybe my dad could finally brag to people that i got into stanford, as long as he omitted it was the psychiatric hospital. 

it might also be hard to explain that my “savings account money” that allowed me to apply for the promenade without a guarantor was money Garnet phased into a federal bank for. and i, in true cliche scandal form, got the highest paying entry level job one could find in this industry, through blackmail via information that Garnet retrieved. and that since the new year began, i don’t remember the people i have slept with or that i have slept with them because Garnet only tells me weeks after it happens because she gets a twisted kick out of watching me bump into my, her hook ups. 

Garnet was a curse, but she got other people’s parents to tell my father, “oh, you must be so proud” in regards to me. so, in a way, i was indebted to her, even if i didn’t ask for or agree with the ways she showed up in my life. she was supportive and destructive at the same time, so it was hard to really figure out how i felt about her. the same can be said about many parents. 

that night, i decided to clear my head and go to the jacuzzi by the south tower because it was the less popular one and therefore the one where i could have more time and space to myself. it was only less popular because the Rich Old Business Men lived in many of the south tower condos, and most young tenants know not to go to their jacuzzi at night, lest we want an uncomfortable encounter with someone who is more than likely a registered Republican. 

i took my chances because i wanted to be alone and it was 1am on a tuesday night, so the Rich Old Business Men were probably too sleepy to sexually assault a neighbour. this was naive, and as if i wouldn’t already be forced to assume responsibility for the actions of a repulsive, entitled but ultimately powerful magnate...i would be actually a little at fault for what happened tonight. 

i don’t really wear bikinis out in public because it’s out of character and style for me. i typically dress like a 19 year old boy. a 19 year old boy interning at a late night talk show if i’m being business casual. when i do wear them, people come to the realization that i have long legs and tits, parts of me other people have always liked more than i ever got to. 

i sank into the jacuzzi’s bubbling water, needing my muscles to relax after a long day at work and dealing with the awkward aftermaths of anything Garnet had been a part of. but i would be lying if i said my body’s tension wasn’t partially caused by the fact that i saw the sliding doors of the fitness center open and a mysterious-looking man step outside. he began walking alongside the pool, towards me. i wanted to hide, like an alligator in swamp waters, only i felt less like the predator and more like the prey. i didn’t know if i would be able to do anything if the man was to suddenly join me in the hot tub, if i was already this scared from this far away. the offense was more Garnet’s speed. and the one time i think i actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. 

the man came closer, and underneath the light, i finally saw that it was Frank. 

“hey,” he greeted. 

“hi,” i said, slowly lifting my body back up. i noticed his large gym bag, dangling from his right hand. in an attempt to move the conversation to its cordial end, i told him, “you know, everyone gets their own locker in the fitness center, so you don’t have to lug your gym stuff back and forth from your apartment.” i gestured back to the center. 

“i know,” he said, placing the bag down. my heart started racing to keep up with the thoughts rushing to my head, that something bad was about to happen to me. i noticed him staring at my chest, and if i retreated back into the water, he’d know he scared me. if i got out and ran, that only said it louder. he reached into his bag. 

“what are you -” i began to ask, but felt too paralyzed to finish because did i even want to know? was he actually going to tell me, “i’m just gonna reach into my bag and grab the thing i’m going to kill you with. i mean, look at me, i’m obviously too sad to care about the consequences. and your death might make me feel like i had control over something in my life.” no, he wasn’t going to say that.

i sat up abruptly, as he held a type of flashlight at me and pointed it at my chest. i flinched, blinded by the brightness and looked down, squinting at whatever he was pointing at.

there was a massive hole in my sternum. i looked up, horrified and confused. i began breathing heavily, scooting back into my corner of the jacuzzi and scrambling up and out of it. 

“what the fuck is that?! what did you do?!”

Frank turned the light off, placed it back in his bag, and pulled out a small cylindrical container i can only describe as something you’d see in Ghostbusters. it looked like the vacuum cartridge to suck ghosts into, which was fitting, because as Frank rotated the container, i saw a gaseous, flailing, inaudibly screaming Garnet inside. 

i looked up at Frank, reaching for my towel and my grip on reality, which was already a bit fuzzy, considering Garnet had been a part of it. and now, Ghost Hunter Frank was, too. he placed the container back in his bag and stood up. i did, too. this lighting really didn’t help his whole dark eye circles, pale skin and freckles combination situation. he looked, quite literally, like he had just seen a ghost.

“i can explain everything to you tomorrow. meet me at the cafe at 10,” he said, before walking away, with both a calmness and an exhaustion i have never seen.

i stood in my towel, calling after him, angry that he got to see me in two of the most vulnerable states i could be found in, “what the fuck am i supposed to do now?” 

he stopped and turned around. i tried to hold my anger, but i was definitely intimidated. 

“get some sleep. i imagine you haven’t been able to do that for awhile now.” 

Garnet orchestrated some intense dreams and messed with the thermostat in the middle of the night enough times for me to easily agree that Frank’s statement was true. i haven’t slept properly in ages. but it was the first time in awhile that i was going to go to bed without her presence. 

and ironically, the thought of her absence and what i just saw and questions about Frank had kept me up all night. i rolled over in bed all night, occasionally glancing at the solarium, seeing more lights turn off in the apartment buildings across the street. i watched the sun come up. 

when 10am rolled around, so did i, turning the corner to the cafe when and where we said we would meet. Garnet still apparently haunted me because i walked right into the chest of that blonde woman’s boyfriend. 

“hey!” he said, annoyed at first and then adjusting his facial expression when he noticed it was me. “hey...” he said again, and then once more when he asked if we could talk. 

“i can’t, i’m actually meeting someone,” i said, conveniently being able to gesture at Frank, who was watching us from the same table the matching tennis outfit couple had been at just yesterday. 

he looked back at Frank and chuckled resentfully when he turned to face me again. “yeah? and you’re gonna fuck around with him, too?” he asked, his demeanor suddenly shifting back to irritation. i paused.

what the fuck. he was just as guilty as, if not more than, me, Garnet for cheating on his girlfriend. i didn’t know who he was, much less that he had an uppity, classist, racist girlfriend who thinks every person of colour at the promenade is “the help” and treats the actual staff at the complex even worse. 

from what i’ve seen, she was a bad emotional investment to begin with and if he wanted to be with someone else (or just not her), he should have had the decency to break up with her. Garnet might’ve known he wasn’t single, but i wasn’t responsible for his relationship. or Garnet. and that was especially true because she was locked away in a goddamn vacuum sealed container and i was still processing that. 

so, “fuck you, man”, i said, and walked over to Frank. 

annoyed by the double standards of my previous male encounter, my hostile energy translated to my interaction with Frank. “where’s Garnet?” i asked with tautness, suddenly feeling protective of her. so what if she was selfish, reckless, and mean? she was still a person. or at least, she was once. right? what are the laws or ethics around holding captive someone who disobeys the laws of physics...

“she’s still where she was the last time you saw her,” he said. “do you want coffee?”

he was speaking so calmly. like, this was casual conversation had between endearing neighbours. “i need answers,” i said, growing agitated. “what was that last night?” 

the boyfriend walked past as i asked that and i felt his rays of slut-shaming shooting at me. and speaking of rays, there was that light Frank had shined on me that looked like i got vaporized. “and now, there’s a giant fucking hole in my chest?”

“that’s what happens when you fuck around with people who are taken,” muttered the blonde woman, who had apparently been meeting up with her man just one table over. no matching outfits this time. 

“eavesdropping? really? are either of you capable of actually focusing on your own relationship?” i snapped.

“hey,” Frank whispered, trying to lasso my attention and temper. 

“what was your plan just two minutes ago?” i asked the boyfriend. “to chat with me real quick about how you can’t stop thinking about that night before patching things up with your girlfriend who, by the way, has a lot of misdirected rage?” they didn’t say anything, and i turned back to face Frank, who was looking down, either embarrassed for me or by me. 

“oh, shut up,” i told him. he shook his head. 

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re not saying anything helpful at all,” i argued.

“that’s because you barely let me get a word in,” he said, sternly. i exhaled. 

“i didn’t do anything. all of the bad shit that gets associated with me, the guy and his girlfriend and the whole fucking around thing. that wasn’t me. it was Garnet, and -” 

“i know. i know it’s not you, but it’s...kind of you.” he cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “i know you might think Garnet is just some ghost who picked you for some reason to be the subject or vehicle of all of her mayhem, but she’s more than that.”

“what do you mean?” 

“she’s a manifestation of every negative thought you’ve had, every impulse you wanted to act on. it’s really rare for them to have real-life consequences of this magnitude, much less actually appear in tangible or intangible form whenever they want. but that’s where i come in.”  

“...as a ghostbuster?” 

“as an exterminator. think of Garnet as an infestation of bad thoughts. she’s a part of you, but a part of you that has gotten stronger with your built up resentment or anger. you have to remove her, like a tumor before she eventually kills the host and takes over completely. like, when termites start weakening the foundation of a home -”

“i get the metaphor,” i interrupted, taken aback by the information and how quickly and how much Frank suddenly started talking. 

“but that’s what the hole is; the stronger she gets, the closer she becomes to having a permanent physical form, while you start dissolving.” 

i sat back, exhaling deeply. after a moment, i asked, “so, you really moved in next to me just to to catch her? how did you know she was here?” 

“actually, that was a wild coincidence. i retired and moved out here as a getaway, maybe do freelance engineering work, but i forgot i didn’t uninstall the software on my watch that detects paranormal energy. when you got in the elevator, i had gotten an alert. and then i got another one when Theresa was in my apartment.”

“i think the most unbelievable part of that story is that anyone could possibly retire in their 30′s...” 

“i’m 47,” he corrected me. “but thank you.”  

“being able to retire at 47 is still unrealistic,” i said, diverting my own attention from his appearance and accidentally flattering it.

“i was the only one doing this work in my area for a long time, so the demand got kind of crazy and when you’re the best bet to call every single time -”

 "you must be so proud,” i teased at his humble-brag, attempting to stifle my own heightening panic. Frank sighed as well, sounding a different kind of exhausted. “so, why didn’t you think Theresa was the source of the paranormal whatever, if your watch beeped whenever you were around her?” i asked. 

“if it was Theresa, then she’s the physical manifestation of kindness and hospitality. i mean, if there’s a ghost running around helping people...i don’t feel the need to intervene. Garnet’s energy was volatile...dangerous. if you let her get any worse, she could do some serious damage.”

i wanted to defend myself and say i wasn’t “letting” her do anything, but she had shoved a man off a cliff this past summer and when the local news station reported it as a whitewater rafting accident, she was laughing at the tv screen. like she was proud of herself for getting away with it and mocking the reporters for not being as smart as her. and i didn’t even scold her. i wanted to believe that maybe the guy was awful in his own way, so the scales were balanced. and maybe that reaction made me just as horrible as Garnet. Garnet had been an out-of-control beast of a child that i didn’t even try to discipline because a part of me felt like everything she did was sort of justified. if she came from me, from the worst parts of me, that were angry and hurt, i understood her. and in a way, i was grieving the loss of her. i had even been a little jealous of her for getting to exist on her own terms. she got to act on everything that she felt in ways i couldn’t and didn’t. 

i wanted to see her as a robin hood, but maybe i was idealizing a monster because it was easier than actually growing up and being accountable for my own responses to all the pain in my life. 

Frank caught me deep in thought, puncturing the space between us with a “are you going to be okay?” 

“i don’t know,” i said after a moment. and it might have been the most honest thing i had said in years. 

TEN YEARS LATER

Faith’s kindergarten teacher opens the door at dismissal, and kids shuffle over to their parents and/or guardians. mine toddles over with her unicorn backpack, face full of freckles, and bouncy curls. she’s the most precious thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life, and i feel this way every time i look at her. just before i hold my hand out to grab hers, her teacher turns to me. 

“oh, Mrs. Gennaro!” she chirps, and i match her energy. 

“hiiiii,” i respond. 

“i just wanted to say you know, that Faith was such a great helper today! i really appreciate how eager she is to make sure the classroom is organized.”

“oh, well, that’s great to hear,” i laugh. “she’s really meticulous about things being in order at home, too, actually. makes life a lot easier for me.” her teacher’s smile dissolved slightly.

“oh, you must be so proud. and well, i actually wanted to discuss that a little more with you if you ever have time.” 

“what do you mean? is something wrong?” i asked. the teacher was intermittently saying goodbye to other students and the people picking them up while trying to pacify my increasing impatience. finally, when they all left (and by now, Faith was waiting for me at the swings), the teacher looked at me with the concern only an educator who is about to suggest counseling possesses. 

“Faith’s attention to detail is definitely a strong suit, but she is exhibiting behaviour that can be symptomatic of obsessive compulsive disorder,” she told me.

“you’re saying my kid has OCD?” i asked, crossing my arms at her bold suggestion. “just because a five year old is more organized than most adults does not mean something’s going on with her head and we can start throwing around psychological evaluations.” 

“i’m not diagnosing her by any means, but i do double as the school’s therapist and i do know the signs. she is very particular about the way she wants things placed or the order art materials and books are in. she counts the steps from the playground to her carpet square. and if it’s not to her liking, she lashes out or repeats things and moves things around. and if someone gets in her way or rushes her, she has started screaming at them. i’m worried it will impact her ability to be around other students and focus in class.” 

most kids want things done their way and will throw a fit every now and then, nobody’s perfect. i didn’t spoil her and nobody yelled in our household, so wherever she picked it up was either A. from some other child at the school who figured out screaming equals appeasement served up by weak and/or tired adults or B. it was normal childlike behaviour that shouldn’t be read into so much.

as i was thinking this, i looked again at Faith while she swung on the swingset, kicking her feet up in the air and giggling, alongside another girl. i hadn’t noticed the other student before, but she looked remarkably familiar. Faith waved at me, and i waved back smiling. the other girl joined, continuing to wave even after Faith put her hand down. 

“well, she seems to be getting along just fine with her friend,” i noted. the teacher looked over to the playground and back at me, puzzled by my statement. i followed her eyes and saw Faith swinging alone. 

“nevertheless, call me if you’d ever like to discuss how we can both best support her in class,” her teacher offered, probably deciding i needed counseling, too, or something more intensive. i called Faith over, and as we headed to the car, my heart dropped. 

“i call shotgun,” spoke Garnet, already sitting in the front passenger seat. behind her, in a levitating booster seat was the girl i had seen swinging next to Faith just moments ago. 

i pulled out my phone to call Frank, but my hands were trembling. i dropped my phone because i was shaking so hard. Faith picked it up.

“there’s lots of calls from Daddy,” she told me. i looked at my phone and saw four missed calls and about a bunch of text messages. 

“Call me back, EMERGENCY”

“Storage unit got broken into, someone has the container” 

“CALL ME BACK”

“DO NOT COME HOME, MEET ME AT MY OFFICE WHEN YOU PICK UP FAITH”

“ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU HAVE FAITH?”

“COME TO MY OFFICE ASAP”

Garnet smirked at me as i read Frank’s texts. “well? do you have faith?” she asked, and i could see her holding her in her corny laughter. time (and the vacuum sealed container) hadn’t been kind to her. her makeup was smudged, her lips were chapped, and she had lost a lot of (metaphysical) weight. 

“Mommy?” Faith asked, as i stared into the backseat of the car. the other girl had started inaudibly screaming from inside, bashing her head against the window and swinging her hands around violently, her tiny fists thudding against the glass. i gasped, stepping back and felt Faith tugging on my shirt, getting scared as well. “who is that?”

“you can see them?” i asked. 

“that girl’s in my class. and that’s her mom. she said she was your old friend.” i swallowed the knot in my throat. “are we giving them a ride?” 

“no,” i answered. 

“why is she acting like that?” Faith asked, as the other girl only got more violent, rabid almost. 

“i don’t know. we need to get to your father.” 

Garnet appeared next to me, holding the hand of her own daughter, who had suddenly calmed down. 

“race you there,” she challenged. “your kid seems smart.” i looked down at Faith, gripping her hand tighter and making sure she was still there, still mine, still safe. “you must be so proud,” Garnet whispered before disappearing.