12 Brownies

Bianca 1988

"I hate men," I sigh, putting my bag on the large sofa. "No offense, Mr. Winchen."

"None taken," My friend Stephanie's father chuckles. "And I've asked you to call me, Brian."

"I know, but it sounds strange to call your best friend's dad by his first name," I smile awkwardly. "My mom would kill me."

"How is your mom?" Brian asks with a crooked smile. "Is she still working?"

"That's why I hate men," I frown, flopping down on the cushions. 

"Is the asshole being himself?" Steph comes and plops down beside me.

"She was supposed to be off tonight, but he's making her work longer because he has that stupid presentation tomorrow," I lean back with a sigh. 

My mom had worked for the same man for the past three years. He was the boss you hear horror stories about, an arrogant, sexist racist, bigot who gave all those concepts an awful name. He was quick with a 'joke' about your skin color, whether you were a woman or if you were poor.

On top of that, he enjoyed harassing his female employees and trying to get them into bed.

If my mother were anyone else, she'd be scared out of her mind, but fortunately, she's braver than that, and the man doesn't intimidate her.

That doesn't change the fact I wish she didn't work there, but she keeps insisting it doesn't bother her and the money was good.

"I might have something for your mom if she's interested," Brian points out. "I've been meaning to ask to meet your folks."

Well, that put a damper on the evening.

I met Stephanie about a year ago in Chicago. We were both on a school trip to the Museum of natural history and debated about one of the artifacts. We argued for an hour, and by the end, we exchanged phone numbers, and I'd seen her almost every day since.

I never told her this, but she was my first and only friend.

So, I hated that I couldn't tell her everything about me. Friends weren't supposed to have secrets, we were supposed to share everything about each other, but I couldn't do that.

I couldn't tell Steph the real reason my father only lived with us for three months out of the year. Or why all the doors in my house had strange amulets hanging off them. I couldn't tell her that the bookcase in my mother's bedroom had books on magic, curses, and supernatural history.

There was so much I couldn't share, and it ate me up inside.

"Daddy, Bianca's dad works overseas most of the year," Steph chimes in before I have to explain. "Somewhere in the middle east, right?"

"Oh, yeah," I nod, going along with the lie.

The truth is, I don't know where he goes. Every time it's somewhere different. 

"Oh, well, I'd still like to meet your mom," Brian offers. "You two have been best friends for almost a year now. It seems wrong that our families don't get to know each other."

"I'll talk to her about it," I promise, but I don't see her going for it.

My mother was uncomfortable around new people. I think that's the real reason she still works for the asshole. She was comfortable with him and better the devil, you know.

My dad sent money every month, but mom still had to work to ensure we had enough for bills and food. I think she wanted to make up for how we lived in Europe when I was little. Maybe she felt guilty that we'd lived so poorly.

"I know what'll cheer you up," Steph claps her hands with a bright smile.

"Oh, brownies?" I sit up excitedly.

"Yep, with the peanut butter frosting on top," She giggles at the look of delight on my face. Steph always knew what to do to make things better.

"Oh, I love you," I get up and follow her to the kitchen.

"Tell me something I don't know," she smirks, tossing her chestnut brown hair to the side. 

Stephanie's family lived in Chicago, while I lived forty minutes from her, but neither of us ever minded the long trip.

It was worth it to spend time together, and I was around people. I hated being alone in my house.

We'd lived in Illinois for five years, the longest we'd ever stayed anywhere. And I prayed we wouldn't need to leave anytime soon. I liked living in one place. I even liked going to school.

Granted, I was an outcast there, but I understood why things worked the way they did.

I didn't fit the mold I was expected to be. No one knew I was Roma, so there were things they couldn't understand. The reason I didn't focus on the same things as everyone. There were things I couldn't allow myself to be interested in.

I wished I could do the things the other girls got to do, but that was impossible.

Hell, impossible was more reachable than what I could get.

"Here," Steph hands me the mixing spoon. "I know you love this part."

With a grin, I take the spoon and lick all the brownie mix off its surface. 

I don't know what it was about her recipe, but it always made me so happy, a layer that hits the back of your tongue and makes you crave more.

"You spoil me," I mumble in between licks. "You need to give me the recipe."

"But if I did that, then I couldn't make it for you," Steph takes the spoon from me and sets it in the sink. "And I love doing things for you."

"You act like I won't eat them all when you do," I try to ignore the undertone Steph has.

That was another common point the two of us had. Neither of us was interested in men.

It wasn't that I didn't find a guy attractive. I just didn't feel anything towards them. I tried to get attracted to the boys in my school. But instead of staring at the quarterback. I was busy daydreaming about his girlfriend.

I think I hide it well, but I don't know how my parents would react if they found out. 

What side of them would win out?

Roma or the Ge'llin?

Why couldn't I be human like Steph? And why couldn't I like her that way? I enjoyed spending time with her. But I didn't feel that attraction toward her.

Stephanie was beautiful. Long chestnut brown hair and dark brown eyes that looked almost black. Her dad's family had Mediterranean in them, so her skin was a similar shade as mine, a rich olive. Stephanie never had a single zit on her face. It was always flawless.

Her smile reminded me of a lynx. When she laughs, it's like wind chimes. 

Steph had the body of a supermodel. Small hips but ample breasts. Long tanned legs that she loved to show off.

Yet, I felt nothing like that toward her. She was my best friend. It was more valuable to me than anything else. The problem is, I don't think Stephanie feels the same way.

Stepping a little closer, Steph opens her mouth to say something, but a buzzing sound distracts her, and she looks at the oven. 

"Let me get these in," She smiles, and I sigh in relief when she turns to grab the brownies in the pan. 

At this rate, confronting my parents about me liking girls is the least of my worries. 

How did I do this without losing my best friend?