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Mabcifica Week -- November 1st-7th
Day 5; Hurt / Comfort
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She had arrived with daisies in her hands, ones she most likely picked herself. Her earrings were bright pink hoops bigger than her beautiful brown eyes, her hair had been sprinkled with glitter and pulled back into a ponytail, and all she wore was a simple yellow sundress.
Pacifica thought that Mabel was perfect.
Mr. and Mrs. Northwest disagreed with their daughter, and it was clear to see that.
Despite her mother’s protests, Pacifica had placed the flowers in the first vase she saw, and thus the tension began to form. Both girls thought that they could make it; after all, it was only dinner. What could go wrong?
Everything. And in only a matter of minutes, too.
“So … Pacifica, I’ve noticed that your friendship with Marie-”
“Actually, it’s Mabel,” Mabel politely interjected, with a smile.
Priscilla didn’t bother holding back her huff. “Mabel, is getting quite close,” she declared. “Is there something that you would like to tell us?”
She tried not to let her parents seeing her hands forming into fists, and Pacifica nodded. She ignored Mabel’s bewilderment, letting words get caught in her throat for a few instants until - without looking at her parents - she found herself ready for now or never. She had no choice but to reveal the beautiful secret she had been hiding for months. She had to say it sooner or later, and that’s the whole reason why tonight was planned-
“Yeah,” Pacifica said, her voice daring to shake. “I’m- we… we’re dating.”
Preston paused while sipping his wine. Priscilla’s frown was so heavy that it nearly damaged her Botox.
A chuckle escaped Preston, and he waved his hand. “Very funny, dear,” he mused. “Now, what is it you really wanted to tell us?”
“That’s it,” Pacifica declared, throwing her hands up. “Literally, Dad, that’s all. I took you on a trip to Gay City, population: me. And news flash, I’ve been dating Mabel since last summer.” She crossed her arms, slumping in her seat under her father’s glare.
Mabel was clearly confused, and she gripped the edge of the table. Pacifica noticed this, and hoped that her girlfriend wasn’t on the brink of an anxiety attack- but once she reached out, her arm was locked in her father’s grip.
“You’re joking,” Preston muttered. “Pacifica Elise Northwest, do tell me that this is all one elaborate prank.”
Pacifica’s blue eyes grew icy cold once she looked sincerely at her father. “No,” she said. It took a bit of force, but she managed to yank her arm away. “Now, if you excuse me, I’d like to comfort my girlfrien-” She couldn’t finish her sentence, seeing how she was promptly slapped across the face. A gasp escaped her, and she cradled her cheek, tears welling in her eyes.
“Say goodbye to this girl,” Preston sneered, pointing to Mabel with an accusing finger.
Pacifica trembled, trying to find the words- to say something, anything…
“Or I shall no longer call you my daughter.”
The words were like a knife to Pacifica, right up against her neck, tempting her. It felt like playing Catch 22, damned if she and damned if she didn’t … she was so overwhelmed, she didn’t even notice Mabel’s anxiety melt and be replaced with a rare emotion she displayed.
Anger.
A swift left hook slammered Preston right in the face, knocking him away and causing him to stumble.
“What the devil is wrong with you?!” he practically howled. “I ought to have you arrested, for corrupting my daughter and for assault!”
“Who are the police going to arrest, then?” Mabel replied coolly. “Because I’m pretty sure you did the same thing to Pacifica.”
Preston’s eyes went dark, and he frowned heavily. “I forbid you from ever seeing my daughter-”
“-who’s that?” Pacifica spoke up, standing tall and folding her arms over her chest. “I’ll say goodbye to you, Preston. But not to Mabel. Not to someone who has given more happiness to me than you two ever did.” She glared at her mother, who dared to speak. “Shut up. Both of you, don’t say a thing. Those Louis Vuitton handbags? Or diamond-studded watches? Let’s throw in the allowance checks while we’re at it! They don’t mean anything to me anymore. You both fucked me up in the head, tried to fix me into something of what you thought was perfect, then pretended to apologize for what you did by showering me with gifts. Well, guess what? It didn’t work. It never did. Not even when I was a kid. Why do you think I was such a brat?”
Preston and Priscilla were frozen with two forms of shock; he was rage-filled, she was simply stunned.
“Then,” Pacifica sighed, glancing to Mabel, who was standing back in awe at the sudden boldness of her girlfriend. “Then I met Mabel. And after we ended that stupid rivalry, she got to know me. She doesn’t care about how much money I have, or what my last name is, she just wants me. She wants me to be happy. And I will never stop mentioning that she’s made me happier in the past three years than you both ever did in the sixteen years when you did the shitty job of raising me.”
There was a heavy pause between all four of them, until Preston brushed off his suit. “You know where the door is,” he muttered.
Pacifica huffed, grabbing Mabel’s hand and leading her out of the mansion.
And last minute, Pacifica made sure to grab the daisies on the way out. Something so pure didn’t deserve to be in such a filthy place.
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After a silent ride around town in Mabel’s pathetic excuse of a car, they ended up at Greasy’s Diner. A drastic change from where their dinner was supposed to be, but somehow… it felt better.
This thought was what caused Pacifica to start crying.
Mabel looked up, alarmed at the sudden change from cold, blankness to now sudden disappointment on her girlfriend’s face. All she could do was scoot over to the other side of the booth, wrapping her arms around Pacifica in an attempt to comfort her. It had been a good while - a nice, long, cleansing cry - but eventually, Pacifica calmed down, resorting to just shaking in Mabel’s wonderful embrace.
“Feel better?” Mabel whispered.
“No,” Pacifica scowled.
Mabel used a napkin to wipe away Pacifica’s makeup that had smudged during the crying session, and she swallowed hard. “You never told your parents about us?” she murmured.
Pacifica shook her head. “I didn’t,” she admitted. “Because I knew that’s how they would react- I just … I don’t know why I had this dumb sense of hope that maybe, they’d be cool with it and we could be happy, you know?”
“Pacifica,” Mabel used her girlfriend’s name, full and proud, with a tenderness in her voice. “I’m already happy. Aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Pacifica choked out. “I - I don’t know. It felt like crap to be hiding all of the time, though.”
Mabel nodded slowly. “And it kind of feels like crap to not hide anymore,” she confessed.
They sat together, somewhat intertwined, and sharing a cup of coffee with too much sugar and not enough milk. There was no one else in the Diner, thankfully - except Lazy Susan, who had insisted on giving them a free plate of food to take home with them.
But for Pacifica, she felt like there was no home.
“Mabel?” she whispered, letting her voice get lost in the twilight hours of the evening.
“Yeah?” Mabel spoke up, glancing over to her girlfriend.
Pacifica held back a frown. “Can we have a sleepover? At least, until I get my own place to live? I - I could probably sneak into a vacation home and live there, my parents would never know,” she trailed off, blinking back tears.
Mabel screeched to a stop at it’s sign, and she managed a smile, her usual one - wide and goofy and nothing short of optimistic. “We’re going to be having sleepovers every night from now on, Paz,” she declared. “I’m unwillingly adopting you.”
“You mean kidnapping,” Pacifica deadpanned.
“Same difference,” Mabel said, with a wave of her hand. “You’re not going back to them. They’ve treated you like crap before and tonight proved that they still do it. As your girlfriend, it’s my mission to save you a-and you meant all of that stuff, right? About me making you happy?”
Pacifica brushed away a single tear and nodded. “Of course I meant it, you dweeb,” she assured.
Mabel grinned. “I’d call you Pacifica Pines, but that sounds kind of weird,” she replied.
Pacifica somehow managed to laugh for the first time that night. “Never call me that again,” she declared.
Once they pulled up to the Shack, they got out of the car, and Mabel took one of the daisies from early in the evening, lacing it through Pacifica’s long, blonde hair. Then, she picked up her girlfriend, twirling her around in the air for a moment before they met halfway in a sweet kiss that reminded Pacifica why she was so in love with this dork.
“Welcome home, Pacifica.”
“Yeah… home.”
Somewhere, deep down in her heart, it just felt right.