Epilogue Penelope
Ibarely recognize myself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror.
Mom spent hours on my hair and makeup to make me look like the reference pictures I’ve been showing her in the weeks leading up to this night.
I check to make sure the pearl butterfly clips that are fastened in my curls are secure.
I shouldn’t be surprised that they are though.
My mom, Gwendolyn Grace Caswell, is nothing short of a perfectionist.
We’ve been talking about my senior prom since she told me about her own when I was just a little girl, when she first popped into mine and my dad’s life. Although, it’s hard to remember what life was like before her now.
My mom…she’s my best friend. There’s really no other way to put it.
She’s the kind of mom to punt a kid across a football field for calling me or my sister names and open her home to every child who might need a safe place.
Biologically, we’re not related. But like, that woman was meant to be a mom, my mom.
And she’s never made me feel like there was any other option.
I’ve spent my entire school experience listening to my friends and classmates rant about their parents–how they’re overbearing or weird.
I’ve never been able to relate, honestly, not even a little bit.
Is my dad kind of a nerd? Yeah, but like, in a cool could probably hack into the government or something kind of way.
And his whole existence revolves around loving me, my little sister, Goldie, and my mom. Oh, and LB. My grumpy old man of a cat.
We’re one of those obnoxiously close-knit, insufferable kind of perfect families you read about in books or watch in movies.
Yeah, I’ve threatened to punch Goldie in the face for stealing my chargers and clothes, but only I’m allowed to do that.
Anyone else goes near her, and they’re dead.
And okay, sure, some screaming matches over curfew and some of my outfits have occurred.
But we all follow the “don’t go to bed angry” rule, and you never leave without an I love you.
I’m sure I have mere minutes before Goldie and our cousins try to barge in here to see me in my dress first. I can hear them conspiring in the hallway, and I’m running out of time to ignore them.
I smack my lips together after applying my lip gloss and open the door to see Kit, the youngest but feistiest of our crew (although there’s only months between the four littles), with a fist raised, ready to knock.
“Yes?” I lean against the doorway.
“You look like a princess, Penny!” Nora yells. I still hate that nickname. But the twins are an exception. I’ll always have a soft spot for each of my cousins, seeing as I’m the oldest.
“No, a queen!” Drea adds.
“Dang, sissy. Noah’s gonna flip a shit,” Goldie finally chimes in. Everyone thought once she could finally pronounce Penelope, she’d switch to calling me that instead of sissy. She did not.
Noah is my best guy friend, not my boyfriend, despite everyone thinking otherwise, by the way. We’re going to prom as friends. Again, despite what everyone else thinks.
“Noah’s going to say what now?” Our mom comes around the corner with a hand on her hip, but the smile on her face gives away that she’s not serious about any sort of scolding. “Oh, my not so tiny human.” She raises her hand to her mouth with tears lining her eyes. “You’re perfect.”
“Oh, this?” I twirl so the purple tulle of my dress fans out and the sparkles twinkle in the golden hour light shining through the windows.
Mom’s choking up now and trying to wave it off. “We have to get you downstairs for pictures. Your father’s going to have a field day with this.” She ushers us all to the stairs, and once I’m halfway down, I hear my dad suck in a breath. I look at him and yep, he’s already crying.
His hair is starting to grey in his early thirties, but my mom’s obsessed with his curls so he still keeps it long.
He has bright, emerald green eyes that match mine.
And my sister’s. And Auntie Margot’s. And the twins’, Nora and Drea.
He can’t gain weight for anything, so he stands tall like a green bean in his classic black boots, dark jeans cuffed over, and black T-shirt combo. My (literal) day one dude.
“Hey, Daddy,” I greet him.
“Hi, princess,” he answers with a wobble in his voice. He’s standing right in front of the framed collage of sticky notes he and my mom have exchanged over the past however many years. Like I said, there is no shortage of the obnoxious, sickly sweet kind of love in this family.
I hear the distinct sound of my aunt’s camera clicking away once I reach the bottom landing. I turn and see her crouched down in the hallway. “Lord woman, are you crying too!?”
“Don’t give me shit, lil P! You’re the first baby to not be a baby anymore!” Auntie Margot swipes her eyes.
“Let her be emotional, kid. I think everyone in this family is,” my Uncle Sawyer says, leaning against the wall.
He’s right. But when we head outside and everyone (my parents, sister, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandmas) all crowds around to take picture after picture and send me off, I remind myself I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There’s no place like Merrymount.
THE END