A Rock and Family Vacation

[13]

Lacy took her time getting up from the couch, as though she were delicately balancing a series of invisible, spinning plates. Blair used the delay to take a good look at the black panel off to the side that controlled the windows. Clare rummaged through what they purchased earlier and scrunched up her face in thought. Brooke assigned Eliot to help Clare figure out good outfits that precisely followed the rules. Blair informed everyone, “You can voice activate the glass! And set your own trigger words. BLOOM. MIDNIGHT. DAWN.”

In quick succession, Brooke was completely blinded by the midday sun, then it became blisteringly dark, followed by a medium closer to where it started but still surrounded by colored spots.

“Please, stop…” Brooke begged with a groan.

It was bad enough this silly glass was all her dad would ever talk about when mentioning this place, she didn’t need her eldest to get addicted to the feature as well. She tried not to dwell on the fact that her dad once claimed Blair was the son he wished he had instead of her. After college, it was implied he had an automatic spot in the company above his mother. Well, before all this.

Blair apologized with a chuckle and gingerly adjusted the lights, so they supplemented the house lights without washing out the big screen. Along with the clothing they bought, Clare dashed to grab her travel bags. Lacy still stiffly traveled the span to the steps and then slowly hobbled up them.

By the time Clare and Eliot had spread out the possibilities, like a puzzle made of cloth, Lacy clung to the open master bedroom doorway and took her breaths like she was summiting Everest. Brooke had taken the opportunity to spread out her clothing with possibilities that seemed modest yet similar to things that boy Lacy wore. The vast majority had not even the wildest chance of fitting Lacy compared to Blair, but at least it would give them an idea of what she would tolerate.

That particular threshold appeared to be just looking at them and holding herself together in terror. Lacy fussed with the meager defense of her dad‘s robe. Doing her best not to tempt trouble from her back again, Brooke crouched gingerly to gather and show off each potential outfit. Lacy‘s eyes were not on the clothes but rather on the open bathroom door across the way.

With a frail, mouse-like squeak, Lacy said, “I need to go…” She then started shuffling her feet towards the door. This again. Brooke didn’t rush to the door, but she did follow Lacy around. She made a couple more squeaks but didn’t have any fight in her to keep her mom out.

“Not a little kid. I can go by myself.” Lacy appeared desperately uncomfortable, wobbling and beginning to squirm.

“Let me help. A strong man knows to ask for help.”

“I’m not. And….ohhhh.”

Brooke didn’t waste time. She basically launched Lacy the rest of the way into the bathroom. It was a relatively simple matter to drag her boy boxers down and the gray robe up far enough. An instant later, the most violently urgent sound erupted against the bowl like a flash flood. When the valve finally shut off, Lacy panted with streaks of sweat on her brow as if she just sprinted a mile.

“I’m all gross…” Lacy trembled and clung to the robe. Same as she instructed her youngest, Brooke told Lacy exactly what she needed to do to be clean. She whimpered the entire time, as if she were prodding an open wound with a knife.

”Ready to undress?”

Lacy’s reaction was to stare back in abject, open-mouthed horror. ”I’m not taking anything off.“ Brooke beckoned for her middle child to then demonstrate how she expected to try on clothes while not removing what she was wearing.

After slipping her boxers back on, Lacy peered hawkishly at the clothes laid out. First, she picked up one of the tops, fed it through the open portion of the robe, and brought her arms inside. Beginning with a writhing cloth lump on one side, then sinking her head down before more blind fumbling, Lacy managed to get the top on. The shorts were a much simpler affair.

“Can I see how you look?” Lacy swiftly shook her head and checked behind her to the open door leading to the hallway. Brooke went over and not only closed the bedroom door but plopped one of her heaviest bags in front of it.

“Sweetie, it’s just us. I just want to see if and how it fits you. And I want you to get used to it. I don’t want you to be afraid.“

Lacy looked lost, with her eyes darting between the safety of the nearby bathroom and the urging presence of her mother. Shutting her eyes, she flung down the robe like tearing off a clinging adhesive bandage. Her eyes remained shut as she pressed both fists against either side of her hips.

“Well? Good enough?”

Brooke thought of pointing out that Lacy couldn’t go through the entire day with her eyes shut but didn’t bother pointing it out. The clothes weren’t the worst fit. She adjusted them and tried to make them look decent as Lacy blindly shifted and twisted away from her. Brooke eyeballed the sizes and deduced what would be the best fit. Unfortunately, she was certain she didn’t have anything in her size.

Fortunately though, she could do better than just eyeball. Reaching into her primary travel bag, Brooke drew out a six-foot tape measure. She started measuring the trouble spots before Lacy could figure out what she was doing.

“Stop it! What are you…NO!” Brooke managed to work quickly enough that by the time Lacy was batting her away, she had committed the rough important measurements to memory.

“Sweetie. You’re going to need to wear a bra. That’s a non-starter. It’ll just be there for support and coverage. Nothing soft or pretty, just something functional and clinical like a back brace. Okay?”

Lacy managed to work back by touch to where she dropped the robe. Only once it was securely draped around her body did she crack her eyes open and respond, “No freaking way! I’m not doing it!”

Brooke took a deep breath and listed off a few alternatives. There was a band garment she could wear or a camisole. She noted that a minimizer bra or a chest binder would definitely help without a conspicuous layer underneath. Lacy refused to move beyond wearing something bulky and loose. Brooke returned to that stubborn little bit of sand grit beside her eye. Any other personal tricks she could offer were likely to be vetoed by Lacy.

“All right then. You tell me what you’re going to wear, because that robe is not an answer, nor is an oversized tee. You can also try a sweater vest, but it’s the middle of summer.” Only this last possibility seemed to garner any sort of interest from Lacy, but the one Brooke shared included a graphic of lilies and was a soft shade of pink, which she refused.

Left without any options, Brooke clapped her hands and announced, “In that case, looks like we’re going shopping, sweetie.” Instantly, she could tell that Lacy's blood turned to ice as her cheeks went pale. Lacy reassessed the sweater vest with nervous trembles, but still couldn’t commit to it. Brooke wasn’t especially keen about spending even more on clothing, but she was aware there were few alternatives. Lacy was still of the opinion that if she could take as long as possible and delay things then this would somehow all go away.

Brooke sat down on a section of empty bed real estate. She was patient. She had experience waiting through her father‘s diatribes, random punishments, and willful disregard for her existence. Lacy really only had his grandfather‘s stubbornness paired with a 12-year-old’s flimsy knowledge.

Squeezing the robe for comfort, Lacy looked like she was ready to wait things out as well. Brooke wasn’t mad about that or any of this. She had been in Lacy’s shoes at that age, feeling like a gross abnormality. Her father encouraged that feeling.

“I’m not going anywhere…till this stupid golf thing. I’m wearing this and if anyone has a problem, tell them I’m about to erupt with alien eggs and breathe acid fire, so they better stay away!”

She kinda wished Blair had joined them. Blair would know what to say in a moment like this, even if it involved farts. But this was on her.

“Sweetie. We’re all going to be wearing things we don’t want to wear and doing things we don’t want to do for grandpa. I will do my best to make this as comfortable for you as possible but, as a start, you can’t wear a robe. I’m going to do my best to help you feel as comfortable in something they will allow you to wear.”

Lacy’s flinching, tense reaction was to shake her head. But her fury didn’t flare as much. She growled and hissed though, “I HATE grandpa and I hope…” Brooke nodded. She could feel what Lacy held back and told her it was alright. She thought and said worse.

Nervously releasing her grip on the edges of the robe, Lacy started to peel it back again. With her eyes in a narrow squint, she set the robe aside and struggled to breathe normally. Brooke was very proud of her. Lacy wore a sour but gentler expression.

To avoid going somewhere to try on clothes, Brooke mentally ran through possibilities. She had Lacy’s rough measurements. Where they bought Clare’s stuff did advertise an affiliated website. A quick phone search revealed a page doing its best to be both a better and worse version of Amazon. A size guide for adolescents helped her fine-tune the estimations.

A compression top, a bra in all but name, escaped Lacy’s scrutiny. The rest of the order included khaki pants practically identical to men’s shorts aside from the zipper. A stark blue and white polo top with short sleeves and a collar provisionally met with Lacy’s approval. Bicycle shorts and other undergarments received a wave like an insect buzzing around but begrudging approval.

The models displaying modest shapes settled Lacy somewhat. Brooke looked her child square in the eye and asked, point-blank, “If we buy this, will you wear it for tomorrow?”

Lacy’s eyes danced across the phone screen as though her mother just put her in a hot seat and asked a life-or-death question. She inspected every visible detail of the clothing and poked around the alternate-angle photos for some detail to disapprove of. “I suppose. Since I am being forced. Put me in it.” Lacy drooped, preparing for chains and manacles.

Brooke reserved them on her card for store pickup at the adult annex. Who would pick them up though? Eliot and Clare had gone last time for pizza. Her back was improving since tweaking it, but she could really use some time stretched out on the couch. What about Blair?

She flinched at the prospect of letting her eldest scamper across the boardwalk all by herself. Especially with a pair of men claiming to be security guards who might be spies for her father. Brooke knew that Blair was clever enough not to get caught in some sort of trap. But, at the same time, she knew you didn’t need to be clever or dumb, just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Why would they grab her though? What if they weren’t here because of her father and they were just two sickos who happened to follow their family and wanted to grab someone? Her mind circulated a plethora of dangers, answers, and counters zipping back and forth.

“Blair?” Her eldest was no longer fiddling with the glass control but rather working on something in the other room over by Clare. Clare had on a combination of her boy clothes with some new stuff. The top, one of the older polos, would’ve been stiff and snug on Clare yesterday but actually fit loose and flutteringly comfortable today. The shorts were the ones they got from the store. Clare looked impeccably cute and proper.

Blair emerged from around the corner with a mustard-colored broom decorated with Clare’s pants and shirts secured by rubber bands and with the brush unscrewed. It didn’t take long for Brooke to put together that it was literally a “clothes horse”. Blair reassured her that she could easily screw the brush back on and it, furthermore, seemed like a Dollar Tree item.

“I need you to go pick up Lacy’s…items for tomorrow. I trust you to take care of this, but I’m worried about fake security guards wandering around. Your dad or I can go with you, if you need that. Does your phone have enough battery, and does it still have that alarm app? The one that makes attention-grabbing noises, if you feel you’re in danger, and automatically calls 911?”

Blair‘s phone was only at about 50% as she neglected to plug it in, but she did have that app, the family emergency app, tucked away far in the back of her icons. Brooke also wanted Blair to take her mace and taser.  Blair instead stripped the horse parts of the pole and declared, “I’ll just take this. No one wants to mess with anyone holding a bright yellow pole.” Brooke cradled her forehead and massaged it gently.

Eliot was eager to accompany their eldest, but Blair seemed to like the idea of going alone. Brooke’s heart rate ticked up, but she tried not to dwell on all the worst possibilities. She gave Blair the code to use for picking up the clothes. Blair had a combination little travel bag and wallet which also easily held her phone. Equipped with everything, even the ridiculous pole, she seemed ready.

She solemnly promised with her hand raised and the formality of court testimony that she wouldn’t stop anywhere else to sightsee or chat, just go to the shop that they ordered from and pick things up for her sister.

“Be safe. Please, be safe…”

[I have a question at the end of the chapter again to help with suggestions for where the story should go. I'm a couple chapters ahead but I love seeding ideas from people as much as possible. Feel free to add an idea which doesn't show up in the options. Thank you for reading!]

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