Free Ceasefire by Scarlett Black

quietest, noises.  I could have the hair dryer going, the
refrigerator preparing for takeoff, the television at full volume and he
wouldn’t even move.  But the moment I put a spoon in the sink, the subtle clink
of metal on metal would wake him and send the little guy into a volley of
screams and wails.
    Michelle
was constantly chewing gum—loudly and with purpose—like she was mad at it or
trying to teach it a lesson.  I was certain it would be the kind of noise that
would launch my son into the stratosphere, straight from his bed, screaming all
the way into orbit, and ensure that she’d never babysit again.  Not a good
thing, since I’d decided to accept Roman’s proposal.
    Actually,
Michelle would’ve been a perfect candidate for Roman, too.  At least when it
came to the looks.  She didn’t have the professional pedigree he required, but
her job, at least the way she saw it, was to keep her body in mind-blowing
shape.  Aaron encouraged it; he was doing so well in real estate that they
could afford to live on a single income, so Michelle spent most of her waking
hours toning this body part and that body part.
    Plus,
she was also amazingly put together, no matter where she went or why.
    Grocery
store in six-inch stilettos?  Sure, why not?
    A
fresh application of makeup before the gym?  Made sense to her.
    I
loved her like a sister and we’d known each other since we were babies, but on
some level, you couldn’t have found two peas in the same pod that were so
completely different.  It was almost like opening the pod and finding a pea and
a piece of corn.
    Michelle
wore yoga pants, a tight-fitting top that put her newly done boobs on display
(a first anniversary gift from Aaron last year—her choice, not his), and
flip-flops.  Tame by her standards, but even when she dressed down, she looked
dressed up.  “So where are you going?” she whispered.
    “It’s
none of your business.”  I grinned and gave her a quick peck-on-the-cheek
hello.
    “Since
when is anything in your life none of my business?  Tell me.”
    “Not
right now, okay?  I need to hurry.  We’ll talk about it later.”
    And
what I meant by that was, never .  She wouldn’t understand.  Or maybe she
would, but she wouldn’t approve and I wouldn’t hear the end of it.  And I could
just see her going to Dreama.  The two of them had better compatibility than I
did with my own mother, and I often thought that Michelle was the youngest
daughter that Dreama never had.  Maybe it should’ve put a bad taste in my
mouth, but I made up my mind a long time ago that it wouldn’t drive a wedge
between me and the only person I could truly confide in.
    Yet
there I was, getting ready to lie my ass off if she pressed for more.
    She
stared at me, trying to decide whether or not it was worth the effort, and then
sighed.  “All right.  But don’t take too long, because these thighs won’t tone
themselves.”
    As
beautiful and ridiculously flawless as she was, Michelle was borderline
obsessed—no, not borderline… completely obsessed—with trying to make her
body perfect.  I had never figured out where the obsession came from.  Aaron
drooled at the sight of her, and so did everyone else—men and women included.  Perhaps
she’d been the one to fall victim to Dreama’s idea of image, rather than me. 
Michelle had been around her enough growing up, so it was entirely possible.
    I
said, “You know you’re insane, right?”
    “Hush,
you.”  She hugged me and patted my back.
    “Thanks
for doing this.”
    “Don’t
be silly.  I’m happy to help.  Now go do whatever naughtiness you’re up to so I
can go pinch some baby fat.”  She looked over at Joey with a mixture of glee
and fake-evil intent, pinching at the air with her fingers.
    Naughtiness .  She didn’t know how appropriate the
word was. 
    She
tiptoed across the room and hovered over Joey’s bed, admiring him.  Michelle
and Aaron didn’t have children of their