She rolls down the car windows when she is about a mile from the house, and turns the radio off. She is not aware of it, but her face is changing. The lines in her forehead soften. Her eyes look less tired. A small smile creeps onto her face. Now, she is pretty. She is bearing a resemblance to her beloved Gramma.
She pulls the old Honda up in front of the Aunts House. She gets out and leans against the car. Inhale. Exhale. The small smile turns to a big grin as the front door opens and the Aunts come out to great her. They embrace her, both talking at once, asking about the ride, her bags, if she’s tired, hungry, hot, thirsty.
In their minds, Iris thinks that Heather’s tank top is too tight and her shorts are too short. She thinks that the dyed blonde hair looks fake. She thinks that Heather looks older than she should and hopes that she has quit smoking.
Althea ia hoping that something will change this month. She can see that Heather is pleased to see them, but she knows Heather is not Happy.
Heather would not describe herself as unhappy, because she has forgotten what real Happiness is. She thinks it’s a lack of awful things. If nothing sucks, you should be happy. She does not remember when anything outside of her Aunts house was special, beautiful, or good.