Making Pretty Read Online Free

warning, and I don’t get a chance to wonder and hypothesize and calculate.
    Apparently, I do a lot of crying when I’m drunk. My eyes hurt from it all.
    â€œWe used to be the same,” I say in a voice from the part of me that only Arizona knows. It’s the sudden, violent kind of teariness, and I grip the edges of the not-sofa and work to keep it in.
    I wonder if Karissa will ever see me like this. If Arizona can move on from the world we created together and the secrets we kept, so could I. I don’t want her to be the only person who’s seen me cry like this. I don’t want her to have that part of me.
    But it feels good to have her hand around my shoulder and her head close to mine.
    â€œThis is a good thing,” Arizona says. “And it didn’t even really hurt.”
    But it does hurt, I think. It does.

three
    Dad isn’t asleep, it turns out.
    â€œGirls?” he says. “Are both my girls here at last?”
    I can’t help it. I love when he calls us his girls.
    He offers to make us popcorn, so I try to stand up straight in the kitchen and talk about going on a nice walk and eating some nice gelato, which is my excuse for where I’ve been all night, but all I really want to do is eat a whole bunch of Goldfish and un-dizzy myself before bed.
    â€œYou were supposed to be here for movie night,” Dad says. “I wanted the whole family together.”
    There it is again, another phrase that zings me, heart-adjacent. The Whole Family. Like we could be all he needs, like the three of us aren’t waiting around for that perfect person to fit into the Dad’s Wife role. The Whole Family sounds complete. Finished.
    â€œWe haven’t done that since Tess left,” I say. “Family Night was a Tess thing, not an Us thing.” Tess instituted monthly movienights when she and Dad got married. It wasn’t the worst. We made it through all of James Bond and about a dozen Jack Nicholson movies and any Pixar movie that came out over the last few years. We ate guac and a lot of cheese, and even after Arizona left for college it was still sort of nice, wrapping ourselves in blankets and turning up the volume whenever sirens screeched or cabs blasted their horns. Tess getting a little tipsy. Dad falling asleep before the best part.
    â€œWe still have traditions. Tess wasn’t the head of this family. We were here before her and we’ll be here after.” He looks put together even in pajamas. They’re the matching, stripey kind that people in the movies wear, which is fitting because Dad looks like he’s from a movie. He touches his perfect head of hair. He used to be balding, but he’s not anymore. He used to be graying, but he’s not anymore.
    I want what he’s saying to be true so badly it nearly sobers me up.
    Then I catch sight of the ceiling fan and I’m drunk again.
    Being drunk is a little like running a race against your last drink, and mine has officially caught up with me. I was pretty gone before, and now I am officially trashed. Nothing feels particularly real, and that makes me sputter-laugh.
    It is not subtle.
    â€œYou’re drunk,” Dad says.
    â€œWell, that didn’t take any see-rus, see-yus, serious detectiving work,” I say, struggling to get my mouth around the words.
    â€œYou’re acting out because I’ve made mistakes,” Dad says. Arizona grins like she’s proving a point, and I dig into the popcorn. It’s hot and on the cusp of being burned. I try not to care and just crunch.“I understand that and I’m ready to earn back your trust.”
    Arizona mouths I told you and tucks her hair behind her ears and juts out a hip.
    â€œDad feels bad about how hard this year was for you,” she says. “So do I.” They share a look, and I know I missed some kind of bonding situation, but I’m pretty sure half my buzz is from simply being around Karissa,