“Mom friends in the Army can be brutal. My mom got treated like shit by the wives around us. She hated it, that’s for sure,” Austin told Elodie. It felt a bit too personal, a bit too vulnerable for him to say so casually in my kitchen.

“It’s hard. I just want them to like me, is that too much to ask?” she whined, laying her forehead on the wooden kitchen table. She lifted it and gently put it back down, not actually touching, but pretending to bang the table a few times for dramatic effect. “I feel like I’m in primary school again but this time it’s worse, because I don’t know anyone, they are speaking another language, and I can’t even run home to my parents,” she sighed.

I couldn’t imagine Elodie not being liked by the women she desperately wanted to befriend. They were the only people who would truly understand her situation and be able to relate in a much deeper way. I was proud of myself for wanting my friend to be happy and loved and have as many friends as her little pure heart could hold; the thought of her happiness didn’t make me jealous at all. Unlike my father, who needed to possess the people closest to him under the pretense of love. I tried really fucking hard to not be like him in that way. I wanted the things I love to flourish, uncaged and free. He made the mistake of marrying someone whose mind, body, and spirit were wild. She couldn’t be owned, and he needed to collect things. While my mother couldn’t be tamed, Estelle was primed to be a precious and pampered doll—a beautiful brunette with eyes for him and his world only, a prize he could display, polished and perfect.

“What time is it?” Elodie asked, eyeing the downpour of rain through the window. “Gloria was supposed to be here with Julien by now.”

“Have either of you seen their baby? He’s so cute.” Austin strummed his fingers on the table.

“Only in pictures!” Elodie responded immediately in a high-pitched voice. “He looks just like his—” She stopped in mid-sentence and her face lit up; so did my brother’s.