Money Can't Buy Happiness

I wanted a pony when I was nine like every other imaginative little kid. The difference is that I only had to ask once before she showed up in our backyard with a baby pink saddle draped over her back. Her name was Buttercup, a golden American Shetland, and I loved her more than my own parents. She had never disappointed me by neglecting to read me bedtime stories or hired a caretaker to fulfill all of her parental duties the way my mom and dad had. Now that I’m older, I realize all those lavish gifts they gave me were just apologies wrapped in pretty ribbons. The dismal truth of the matter is that I never needed their apologies; I needed my parents. They tried their hardest to be there for birthdays and holidays but more often than not their work trampled my childhood memories and left them flat and lifeless. What kind of parents send a kid a pony to make up for not being there to unwrap presents? Lazy rich parents. 

Maybe it’s the act of a selfish little rich kid to resent my family’s wealth, but I do. Don’t get me wrong, the opportunities I have because of my family name are phenomenal and could set me up for life without my parent’s fortune to fall back on. I don’t have to pay for college and I can get practically any internship I want just by dropping the Beaumont name. Unfortunately, that also means I’ll never know if I truly deserve to be where I’m at no matter where I go or what I do. Earning my place in the world the way most people are wont to do is pretty much impossible just because of the family I come from. It’s funny though that for such a widely revered name, I never felt my parents had done anything to earn my respect.

My mom died when I was eleven so I guess she didn’t have as much time to disappoint me as my father did. The one thing he did right in my opinion was wait seven years to get married again, though his fiancée of choice was not exactly my cup of tea. She was way too young for him, for one thing. My dad is fifty two and Gianna is thirty. Considering the pattern most rich men have with young women I suppose I should just be grateful she’s not a teenager but still. She has a teenager of her own and he’s…interesting. His name is Malcolm and he’s refreshingly new to the wealthy lifestyle, which is one of the few things I like about him. He’s a little too cocky for my taste, though to her credit Gianna was around his whole life to raise him well overall. His father was Italian like Gianna, sharing a rich tawny complexion with dark hair that looks uncharacteristically soft in contrast with Malcolm's hardened persona. He pulls off the brooding character well, I’ll give him that. Most girls fall for it, though once he gets comfortable he’s incredibly outgoing and a true menace to the elites my father surrounds himself with. The children of the elites love Malcolm due to his affinity for throwing ragers at the manor whenever Gianna and my father are out of town, which leads us to tonight. My father and Gianna took the jet to some remote island for a few days to relax and recharge, leaving me and Malcolm to fend for ourselves since we got rid of the maids two years ago in an effort to make Gianna and her son more comfortable. It was nice not having so many people bustling around, I’ll admit, though it amplified how lonely things truly were around the manor. Malcolm and his yapping made up for it though. 

The first time we ever met he had been downstairs in the foyer waiting for Gianna and I passed him on my way to the kitchen. At the time I was a little foggy from my juice cleanse so I hadn’t realized he was there on my mission to eat some real food before I passed out. He had followed me into the kitchen and it was there that we had our first conversation.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like Daenerys?”  

“What?”

I had been rummaging through the fridge looking for something worthy of my taste buds and couldn’t be bothered with the curious boy behind me. Nevertheless he persisted. 

“For shame. You don’t watch Game of Thrones?”

I grabbed a pudding cup and slowly shut the fridge, turning to face him.

“Who are you?”

He smiled and held out his hand.

“Malcolm. I’m surprised Mom hasn’t mentioned me considering I’m the light of her life and all.”

I rolled my eyes. 

“Oh I’ve heard about you. Don't be too sure of that last part though. I’m sure my father will give you a run for your money.”

He scoffed, his smile turning sour.

“Ugh, don’t mention Sebastian to me. That man-”

“Think long and hard about what you were going to say considering you’re in our house right now,” I replied with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged and leaned against the kitchen island, giving me the once over. I resented being analyzed by some guy I just met and made my way past him as quickly as I could. A few moments later as I re-entered the foyer I heard a soft swishing behind me and turned around in time to see Malcolm sliding towards me on his socks across the hardwood floor, his shoes clutched in one hand and a spoon in the other. He skidded to a stop in front of me with a grin on his face and held out the spoon.

“You left without this. Figured you’d need it,” he gestured at my pudding cup.

I had taken the spoon begrudgingly and looked him up and down. I couldn’t tell if I liked him or not. His next sentence made my decision for me. 

“Unless you planned to eat it with your tongue, in which case don’t let me stop you,” he grinned.

“You’re disgusting.”

Turning on my heel, I walked towards the stairs and heard swishing behind me again. I ignored him as he slid next to me at the bottom of the stairs and put a hand on my arm.

“I didn’t mean it in a pervy way. I was just checking my theory. The eyebrow slit and septum piercing isn’t exactly subtle, you know. Though I’m sure that’s intentional.”

I didn’t dignify him with a response and made my way up the stairs as I struggled to open the pudding. He followed me up the stairs until we got to the top and reached for the cup.

“Here, let me try.”

He took the cup before I could react and peeled the top off in one swift motion. He handed it back to me, his lips turned up in a half smile. 

“I’m sorry if I offended you.”

When I didn’t respond, he continued.

“Mom says I don’t have a filter and she’s not wrong. Usually I let other people do the talking at first but I figured I should introduce myself since we’re going to be living together.” 

I stared at him for a moment longer before giving him a half shrug.

“Maybe work on that filter a little more.”

I had nothing else to say to him and I walked away before I had time to reconsider chewing him out for insinuating I was a lesbian. Not that I minded it much since everyone our age thought the same. In fact I think my best friend Vera is probably the only person we know that doesn't think I am. She’s known me since first grade and we’ve been inseparable ever since so if anyone would know, it’s her. And me, of course, though I’d be lying if I said the constant assumptions hadn't gotten me thinking a time or two. For a while I thought I was into her twin brother until I started noticing how truly similar he and Vera are. They had the same intense dark eyes that sparkled whenever they laughed. Vera’s eyes crinkled at the corners whenever she smiled – a gesture that lit up her whole face. The two siblings had the same high nose bridge and full lips, though Vera had always looked more inviting than her brother Ben and his signature scowl. His bursts of anger and indifference often radiated off him in a way that was so foreign to Vera’s personality I wondered how they could ever be related at times, though he had always managed to be kind to me whenever we interacted. 

Ben had come out to his parents the year before and that was the day that solidified my friendship with both siblings. To experience a rejection of who you are was a devastating blow that Ben and Vera’s parents delivered unceremoniously, threatening to disown him for his “lifestyle” and Vera for supporting him. The two of them had run straight to my house and together the three of us had sat eating ice cream and watching movies for the next few days until their parents cooled off enough to invite them back into their own home. Ben had been understandably crushed and Vera had cried enough for both of them, though sometimes I wondered if perhaps there was more than one underlying reason for why it hurt her so much to see her parents reject Ben’s queerness. The whole fiasco happened before the twins’ seventeenth birthday, and the falsely cheerful and ridiculously extravagant celebration their parents held for them mere days after threatening to disown them threw us all for a loop. This year was their eighteenth and I, for one, was just as relieved as Vera and Ben were when their parents announced they had scheduled a trip for the same week as the twins' birthday. With our parents also out of town, Malcolm had the brilliant idea of throwing a party for the twins at the manor and I had agreed on the condition that he not mercilessly flirt with Vera the entire time. Now with Vera standing in front of me in a black sequin mini dress, I began to understand how hard it would be for Malcolm to keep his promise.

“That’s the one,” I assured her, “You look beautiful.”

She did a twirl for me and eyed herself in the floor length mirror I had leaning against the wall of my bedroom. 

“Yeah? I like it too. It's the Heiress Beverly Hills dress so I knew I’d probably like it. Come tighten this corset for me.”

I walked up to her and gently began tugging at the corset on the back of the dress, admiring how smoothly her jet black hair always seemed to flow over her shoulders as I tightened the laces. 

“You can pull harder, Clementine. I need this waist to be tiny.”

I smirked and tugged the laces harder.

“Fine but your waist is literally perfect so you don’t exactly have to worry about it.”

She smiled at me in the mirror and I felt my stomach flutter just the tiniest bit. I hurriedly tied the laces and stepped back as quickly as I could, eager to ignore the butterflies disturbing the contents of my stomach as I grabbed a pair of black platforms and held them out to her. As she reached for them, our fingers brushed against each other and Vera grinned at me with that bright beautiful smile I admire so much and suddenly it was as if the wool I had pulled over my own eyes disappeared. I adored her as a friend, but it hit me like a ton of bricks that maybe it had always been more than that. Before I knew what I was doing, I knelt down and held my hand out for a shoe. She hesitated but handed me one and I slowly eased her foot into the heel. She watched me silently, the whisper of a smile on her lips as I tightened the straps and held my hand out for the other one. She gave the second shoe to me a little more confidently and in turn I felt the butterflies in my stomach spreading upwards into my chest. When both shoes were on, I stood up and our eyes met.

“What was that about,” Vera breathed. I shrugged.

“I’m…not sure. I think I just…I love you, V.”

Her eyes lit up and my heart began beating against my ribs as she parted her lips thoughtfully.

“Like…as a friend?”

Oh. Oh no. 

I stood silently, warmth creeping from the tips of my ears towards my cheeks as I prepared for rejection. She took a step forward and suddenly we were inches apart. I hadn’t noticed her closing the distance between us until this very moment and the closeness confused me. 

Didn’t she just say–

“I think…I might love you too, Clem. As more than a friend...if that’s okay, I mean.”

She looked nervous but didn’t back down and neither did I. I could barely breathe, my chest swelling with all kinds of emotions. I cupped her face gently and she leaned into me, her soft hair tickling the back of my hand as I rested my palm against her jaw. 

“Of course it’s okay,” I whispered, “It’s more than okay.”

Our lips met and fireworks went off in my brain, electricity flowing between us as the kiss deepened. I had been denying myself for so long and so had she, and now that the ice was broken it was as if we had never been trapped in our own heads at all. Eventually we pulled away and Vera stroked my hair, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears.

“My parents will never understand,” she cried, her bottom lip trembling. I pulled her into a hug and we stood there in a tight embrace for a long time. 

“I wish I could stay here with you forever,” she mumbled into the crook of my neck. After a moment of contemplation, I broke the silence with a suggestion.

“You could come live with us if you want. We have room for Ben too if he doesn't wanna be alone at home after all your parents have done.”

I pulled back and wiped a tear from her cheek as she looked up at me with wide eyes.

“You both deserve to be happy," I continued, "If your parents can’t accept that then they don’t deserve you two at all. The moment they disown either of you for who you are, you come to me. You’ll always have a place here, V, and my dad will agree because he loves you almost as much as I love you.”

She sniffled and nodded.

“Promise?”

“Yes,” I vowed, “I promise.”