"Are you sure about this decision?" Ryan asked.

"Yes," Elliot said.

The party had migrated to the living room and sat positioned on couches and arm chairs.

"You've thought through all the merits?" Jay asked.

"The pros and cons?" Ryan added.

"I have thought hard about this," Elliot said.

"I would believe that," Joe said. "El strikes me as the person to ponder this query when she's alone in her room."

Elliot shot him a glare as a round of laughs swept through the room.

"Just because you made a rash decision doesn't mean you can mock mine, Joseph!" Elliot said.

Joe raised his hands in surrender though his expression still held a mocking look.

"So you're sticking with your choice?" Tristan asked.

"Absolutely," Elliot said.

They all exchanged looks.

"Okay," Ryan said. "So you're saying the silliest animal you could be transformed into would a Dodo bird?"

"Yes," she said. "It's even in the name."

The room exploded in outcry.

"I still think my choice of a deaf bat wins," Milo called over the chaos.

"No way! A blind naked mole rat wins," Cece said, shutting him down.

The room fell to madness as everyone turned to their neighbor, arguing a case for their choice of silliest animal. Elliot looked over at Beck, his expression hinting at amusement. He glanced over her.

"At least it's not chit chat," she yelled.

Beck laughed, the sound swallowed up by the roar of discussions. Elliot was just turning back to fight with Mia, about her choice of a short necked giraffe, when the front door opened. A muscular guy in his twenties with a neat military haircut, brown eyes and a friendly smile walked in. Elliot jumped up and walked over to him.

"Chase!" she said, hugging him.

His smile widened, as he looked from her to the noisy room.

"What we arguing about?" he asked.

"The silliest animal you could be transformed in to," she said.

"That's easy, a flying penguin."

Elliot laughed and Chase dug his hands into his pockets.

"I didn't think you would make it this year," she said.

"I'm on leave, and was visiting a cousin in New York so I had to come," he said. "It looks like the same old crowd."

Chase paused when his gaze landed on Beck.

"Who's the new guy?" he asked.

Elliot turned to Beck and met his gaze. She motioned him over and he stood, joining them.

"Chase, this is Beck," Elliot said.

Chase looked from Elliot to Beck and back.

"Boyfriend?" he asked, his eyebrows raised.

Elliot punched his arm.

"I take complete offense at your shocked expression," she said. "But no, Beck is currently helping me on my latest book. It could be argued that the only reason he is here, is because he's terrified if he didn't accept the invite he would be fired."

Chase laughed.

"He's the only guy you have ever brought and it's because he's paid. This does not surprise me."

"Hey!" Elliot said. "What about Milo?"

"Please, Milo is only here because of Cece. The only way you could get him to stay away is with a shovel and a very deep hole.

"Even then, he would probably dig his way out."

"He's a very resourceful man."

"Yes, he is."

"Tell me again why Cece's not dating him?"

"He would be the pretty one in the relationship."

"Ah, of course."

Chase turned to Beck and held out a hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said.

Beck accepted the hand with a polite nod.

"Likewise," he said.

"How long have you two been working together?" Chase asked.

Beck and Elliot looked at each other.

"About eight weeks now," she said.

Chase raised his eyebrows.

"I'm impressed," he said, looking to Beck, "you still look like a sane person."

Beck smiled and rested back on the edge of a couch, his arms crossed.

"Ha ha," Elliot deadpanned.

Chase laughed, the sound full of years of taunting.

"It's true, El," he said. "The only reason we are still friends is because we were trapped in high school together. Then I joined the military and they are crazier than you."

"That and you had a crush on Cece and tried to get to her through me," Elliot said.

"Boy was that stupid. I got sucked in and addicted to your family. I should have found someone else to like."

"Yes and then you would be free. Funny how craziness attaches to you and never let's go."

Chase nodded and glanced at Beck again, then at Elliot.

"What's the new book about?" he asked.

"A boy and a girl," Elliot said.

"That's a new one."

"This one also has words in it."

"Stepping up in the world, I like it. Is there a plot involved?"

"Still figuring that part out. Who knows, maybe it will."

"Chase!"

They both looked over to see Cece waving at him.

"Where have you been loser?" she called out.

"I have this thing called a job," Chase said.

"Sounds lame, come tell me about it."

Chase shook his head and walked over to join Cece on the couch. Elliot turned away and found Beck looking at her.

"What?" she said.

"What?"

Elliot pointed to Beck's face.

"You have that look," she said.

"What look?"

"The look that says 'Elliot did something I don't understand and I'm going to analyze it and judge her mental state based on it'."

Beck raised a single eyebrow, his posture relaxed.

"I didn't know my face talked so much," he said.

"Only when it has that look on it."

Beck nodded and Elliot just stared at him, her eyes questioning his thoughts.

"Why do you talk about your work in such a offhanded way?" he asked.

Elliot scowled.

"What do you mean?"

Beck pointed towards where Chase sat.

"You made it seem like your work was a joke," he said. "Are you ashamed of your books?"

"What?! No!" Elliot waved her hand about. "I was just having fun with Chase, that doesn't mean I'm ashamed of my books."

She crossed her arms, her gaze focused on Beck.

"Why do you feel the need to analyze everything? Why can't someone make a joke?" she asked.

"It may have been just a joke, but you seem to shy away from taking pride in your writing."

"I don't shy away!"

Beck shrugged, his face reverting to it's usual passive expression.

"Okay, you don't shy away," he said.

Elliot stared at him for a long moment, not believing his agreement with her and getting infuriated with his blank look. Tristan stood and waved down the hectic crowd.

"Alright," he said. "Before Andrew decides to punch someone over this completely useless argument, I suggest we announce my choice of a short legged horse the winner and get food."

A tornado of pillows was hurled at him.

****************

Elliot stepped through the glass doors and into the hot summer sunlight. She left the patio and headed for the beach. The laughs and voices of the party guests tagged along beside her. Cool grass gave way to course sand. She stopped at the water's edge, frowning at the light that bounced off the waves. Cold water raced to engulf her feet before scurrying away.

As she stood staring off at nothing, she heard the sound of someone approaching. Mia stopped beside her, without saying a word. Time ticked onward, neither girl speaking. Eventually, Elliot cracked the silence.

"How do you do it, Murph?" she asked.

Mia shrugged, the gesture seeming to sum up all her opinions in life.

"It's easy," she said.

Elliot turned to her. Mia kept looking to the water.

"Really?" Elliot asked.

Mia nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "You go into a pet store, find the cat that is the cutest or the one that doesn't look like it will murder you in your sleep. Then buy it."

"No, I mean how are you unapologetically you?"

"I tried being someone else for awhile but I knew it would get too complicated come tax season."

Elliot turned back to the water.

"That's not what I mean," she said. "I mean how are you so confident as a writer? You would never mock your own work."

"I see," Mia said. "It's because that's what I decided I wanted to be."

Elliot scowled and tucked her hands into her shorts.

"That doesn't help me," she said. "Because I decided to be a writer too and I constantly doubt and mock my work."

Mia turned to her, an unwavering glint in her dark brown eyes.

"Yes, you write but you're not a writer," she said.

Elliot looked at her surprised.

"What?"

"El, if you were a writer than you would take pride in your work," Mia said. "If you want to be a writer than be a dang writer! Don't do it half way. You think because you wrote your first book while you were still in high school that it was a fluke. Who cares?!"

Elliot was caught between amusement at seeing Mia so animated and shocked at her words.

"Who cares if it was a fluke that your first book got so big?" Mia continued. "What are you going to do now that you have the chance to really be a writer? You mock your work because you doubt yourself. A writer doesn't doubt themselves. They say screw the world I'm going to write what I damn well want to. You lack that mind set and so you struggle as a writer."

Mia turned back to the water, her rant seemingly finished. Elliot didn't respond, her gaze moving back to the undulating sea once again.

"So...where did that come from?" Elliot asked.

Mia's calm, indifferent manner had returned and she shrugged.

"I find about once a year I offer people advice, whether they ask for it or not. Apparently it was you this year."

Elliot let out a trapped laugh, the sound bringing a small smile to Mia's face. They fell silent again, the noise from the lively party drifting out to them.

"You think my work is good?" Elliot asked.

"It doesn't matter," Mia said. "What matters is if you like your work. Whether you would read it. If not, then make a change. You're the only critic worth listening to."

Elliot whispered the words to herself, liking the way they felt on her tongue and the hold they took on her thoughts.

"Thanks, Murph," she said.

Mia shrugged and turned back to the party.

"Don't think this means I'm your therapist now, because my only advice from here on out is buy a cat."

Elliot followed her towards the house.

"Excellent advice, which I shall take to heart," she said.

"Good because nothing heals your sense of self doubt like an animal that is completely loyal and loves you."

"That description usually goes to a dog. Have cats been improving their marketing image?"

"Ah, right, it is dogs."

"What are cats good for anyways?"

"They take all your love and ignore you in return."

"You're right," Elliot said, "nothing heals self doubt like owning an inferior creature who knows it's better than you."

***************

The house was dark and silent as Elliot made her way down the stairs. Golden light poured into the entryway from the kitchen. She padded across the cool tile floor, her footsteps alerting the kitchen's occupant to her arrival. Her mom smiled as she joined her.

"Toast and tea?" Elliot asked.

"Always," her mother said.

Elliot pulled down cups, saucers and a milk pitcher.

"How many people do you think we'll get tonight?' Elliot asked, turning to look at her mother. "Should we get things out for them now or just wait?"

"Just wait. Those lazy bums can do it themselves."

They both returned to their tasks. Equipped with fresh toast, and tea, Elliot and her mom took seats at the barstools.

"Five bucks says Tristan is the first to arrive," Elliot said.

"I choose Ryan. He hates being left out of these things and so he's a light sleeper."

Elliot nodded and took a sip of her tea.

"I thought today went well," she said. "Unfortunately Tristan managed not to burn the hamburgers so we didn't get a visit from the cute firefighters. I think Cece is still torn up about that."

"Andrew managed to argue with every single guest," her mother said, "so he's sticking with tradition."

"Jay held himself back from any spontaneous dancing."

"Ryan told at least three of the female dancers that they were meant to be together."

"Joe compared four famous people to a sack of bricks."

"Mia spoke over eighteen words, I counted."

"Everyone mockingly oohed and awed at the fireworks display."

"All in all, it was a good Fourth of July."

"Agreed!"

Elliot pulled the basket of toast over and picked out a piece. Beyond the kitchen windows the world was dark, except for flashes of moonlight as it played hid and seek behind the clouds.

"Mom," Elliot said. "What do you make of Beck?"

"I could make him into a lot of things but they're all illegal here."

"I've thought of that too, and found it's legal in New Guinea."

"True, but there's a lot of hassle with customs and flights. Getting to New Guinea takes at least four flight changes. Not really worth it."

Elliot nodded and took a bit of her toast.

"You're right," she said. "So?"

She looked over at her mother. Her mom took a long sip from her tea, studying the far windows.

"Beck..." She paused. "As far as I have gathered from my interactions with Beck, he is a talented writer who has been told from the beginning that being an artist is not a viable option for work."

Elliot rested her head on her fist, looking at her mother.

"I believe being here," her mother said, "has been good for him. It's at least given him a chance to see that there is a different way of living than ignoring your art and finding a stable 9-5 job."

"He told me the way we live wasn't normal. That life doesn't work like this."

"And that's what he's been told and believes. Being around us might help him realize there's a different way to live life, but where he goes from here is his decision."

Elliot nodded and lifted her tea cup. But she didn't drink, her mind busy playing out what her life would be like if she was in Beck's position. She lowered her cup and looked at her mother.

"I've never said thank you," she said.

"Yes, but I always stole some of your Halloween candy so I believe we're even."

Her mother gave her a warm, understanding smile.

"Thanks for supporting me and always being there," Elliot said.

"Don't say that," her mother said, quickly.

Elliot started in surprise then frowned.

"Why not?"

"Because this is the perfect scenario where in the next scene I die, proving that you can really survive on your own and you don't need me."

Elliot raised her eyebrows in alarm.

"Oh! Right! Sorry. I hate you," she corrected.

Her mother smiled.

"That's better."

"Should we fight, for good measure?" Elliot asked.

"No, I think we're good now."

Elliot wiped her forehead.

"Phew! That was a close one."

Her mom wrapped her arms around Elliot and hugged her. As she pulled back she kissed Elliot's head. They both looked to the entryway as someone could be heard coming down the stairs. A moment later, Ryan walked into the kitchen.

"Are we discussing anything good?" he asked.

Elliot pulled out a five and handed it to her mother, just as Tristan appeared.

**********************************************************************

Lima beans! (Yeah, couldn't think of a different way to say hello so that came out. Sorry.)

Question: what is your go to piece of jewelry for when you want to feel pretty? Earnings? Necklace? Ring? Bracelet?

Another question: is there one piece of jewelry you always wear?

I have a ring I got from my sister and I never take it off. Okay I take it off when I sleep and wash my hands but other than that it never leaves my finger. If it's missing for a few seconds I know, my hand feels naked without it.  Do you have anything like that? Also am I alone in my opinion that thumbs rings just look legit? Random I know but I'm curious!

Vote, comment, follow...these words are boring to me, how about star, speak, join? Na! I'll work on this.