Mothers, Mentors, and Miniskirts

She didn't mind the walk.

Her phone said it was just under five miles from her apartment to 214 Ridgeway Lane, and she figured the quiet, the air, and the time to think might help her sort through the thrum of thoughts swirling in her chest. Sneaking out without telling her mom, skipping breakfast, still buzzing with nerves and wearing what she hoped counted as confidence, Indira felt like her world was reshaping itself so quickly that she needed the time the walk allowed to sort herself out.

The outfit clung tighter and revealed more than anything she'd ever worn in her life. The skirt was short, the crop top shimmered, and her bra and panties—picked out by Donna and scandalous by any Patel standard—still felt strange and electric against her skin. She had told herself she wore it all for herself, that she was experimenting, trying something new. But that wasn't true.

She wore it for Joey.

The hope had rooted deep in her bones that maybe—just maybe—he'd be excited to see her when she arrived. That he'd open the door, see her dressed like this, and... well... look at her the way he looked at Madison, or Aynsley, or even any of the other girls.

Indira knew that it was her own fault. There had been a moment, a window, the night before where she could have gone upstairs. Being at the party was one thing, but being with Joey, upstairs, in a bedroom, was another. There were no guarantees, of course. She knew that up there she would be in a gaggle of women ready and willing to be with him, that the chances of Indira being the one picked were slim. But the chances of being picked while staying downstairs in the dining room were zero.

This was her second chance.

But when she turned up the walk to the house, it wasn't Joey who opened the door. It was Madison.

"Oh! Indira!" she said with surprise, smoothing her long hair over her shoulder as she stepped out onto the porch. "We were just heading out."

Bianca followed close behind, ponytail bouncing, heels clicking on the wooden floor.

"I have work," she said with a soft smile, brushing past with the warm, sleepy smell of vanilla and shampoo.

"I'm sorry, babe, Joey's not here," Aynsley added, peeking over Madison's shoulder and giving Indira a once-over. "You look amazing, though. Like, really hot."

Indira flushed at the compliment, despite the intense disappointment she was feeling.

"We cleaned the whole house," Madison added. "Top to bottom. You'd never know there was a party here at all. Joey was really sweet saying goodbye, but he had to go meet someone. Family thing."

"Oh," Indira said softly. "Right."

They left in a swirl of perfume and lip gloss, hugging her goodbye, saying they'd see her soon, maybe at school tomorrow, and then they were gone. Just like that.

She stood alone for a moment in the doorway. The music from the night before was long gone. The house felt empty without them, like the party had already slipped into legend. The girls were right. Not one speck of evidence of the event remained. She remembered being there the day before, setting up, preparing for the guests to arrive. This wasn't just back to how it was, this was better. Cleaner. More organized.

Then she heard a groan from inside.

Juniper was still here.

Indira stepped into the living room to find her slumped sideways on the couch, half-covered by a throw blanket, makeup smudged and hair a mess.

"Ugh," Juniper groaned, shielding her eyes. "Did someone just open the sun?"

Indira couldn't help the flicker of satisfaction that bloomed in her chest. She looked like hell. Good. That's what you get, she thought. For going upstairs with him. For stealing a night that maybe, just maybe, could have been hers.

Of course, that wasn't fair. Juniper had been crying. She'd been drunk. She was Joey's sister.

Still.

They were all girls at the same party, and Joey had said it himself: the girls there loved him. Head over heels. There was no reason Juniper wouldn't be caught up in the same orbit. Maybe even deeper. They had, after all, grown up together. How could she not love him?

"Hey there, beautiful," Donna said, her voice husky from coffee and sleep, but full of warmth. She stood barefoot in the middle of the kitchen in a soft, pink yoga outfit, her hair still tousled from bed. Even in what looked like a casual outfit, Indira couldn't help but think that she looked glamourous.

Indira stepped into the house and let the door close behind her. She was nervous suddenly—aware of every inch of bare thighs beneath her skirt, of the way the tight fabric of her top pulled across her chest. She'd dressed for Joey. But now, with Donna's eyes on her, she felt exposed. Evaluated.

Behind Donna, another woman moved into view. Eliza. Miss Matthews.

It was still strange to see her history teacher outside of the school. Yes, Indira knew that the older woman was supportive of her, just as Indira was of her teacher, but that didn't change the momentary feeling of strangeness when she saw her. The red-headed woman was still dressed in her outfit from the day before, the short-short-skirt and the tiny-top that Indira had had a hard time believing she was seeing a member of the school faculty wearing, no matter what her relationship with Joey. Her red hair was pinned back, a style Indira had seen many times during a school day. She looked like she'd been up for hours, like she'd already planned her entire day and executed most of it. But when she saw Indira, her expression softened into something warmer.

"Indira," Eliza said in a sweet tone, "I'm so glad you came back."

Donna wrapped an arm around Indira's shoulders and drew her in. The robe smelled clean and felt warm. It was something her own mother would never have worn.

"Joey's not here, honey. He went to meet up with his dad," Donna said, gently. "But I'm so glad you stopped by. You look gorgeous, by the way."

"She does," Eliza agreed. "That's a beautiful color on you. Joey would love it. Madison picked that top, didn’t she?"

Indira nodded, her cheeks burning. "Yeah. And the skirt. She said it made my legs look—um, long."

Donna laughed. "It does. You look like trouble. The good kind of trouble."

They guided her toward the couch. Juniper was curled up there under a blanket, clearly hungover. One eye cracked open when she heard them talking, but she quickly squeezed it shut again and groaned into a pillow.

Donna made coffee. Eliza set a mug in front of Indira with practiced grace. There was something about the two of them—like two halves of something powerful and complete. Donna was warm, intuitive, lush. Eliza was precise, restrained, watchful. Both devoted to Joey. Both radiating something that made Indira want to listen to every word they said.

They sat with her.

For a moment, it was quiet. Just the sound of the coffeemaker dripping, Juniper groaning faintly from the couch, the morning sun filtering through the blinds.

Then Donna said, softly, "You came all the way here just to see him, didn't you?"

Indira swallowed. Nodded.

"I wanted to… I don't know. I thought maybe I'd have the chance to be closer to him. Last night I wasn't ready for... you know... but today I think I am."

Eliza's eyes flicked toward her. "Ready how?"

Indira flushed. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "To... to be physical. With him."

Donna leaned in, her smile tender but serious. "That's a big step, sweetheart."

“"I know," Indira said quickly. "I've never... you know... with anyone. And I'm still not sure I'm ready all the way. But I don't want to be left behind. Joey's just so... " she paused, then she laughed a little, "I'm usually good with words. You should see my grades in English class. But he makes me feel so... like... hot and cold and the same time. Like I kind of want to throw up, but I can't stand being away from him. You know? You other girls—you're all so confident. And I'm being left behind. He's going to forget about me."

Eliza folded her hands in front of her. "Wanting to give yourself to someone can be beautiful. And giving yourself to Joey is even more so. What your describing is love, Indira. You love Joey. And I get it. Being with him is like a dream come true. My life before Joey was misguided. I thought I had my life all figured out, but I was so wrong. He set me straight, and showed me what a good life really is."

Donna reached over and took her hand.

"It makes sense that you want to be with him. You're a hot high school girl, Indira. I know you haven't thought of yourself that way before, but you are. I mean, look at you. Breezing in here in that skirt, in that top. A guy like Joey would be the perfect man for you. Honestly, I don't know how you've been able to resist him so far. But Joey's not like other guys. He's special. He wouldn't forget about you."

"We wouldn't let him," Eliza piped in.

Indira blushed. These women, these amazing women, knew exactly what to say to make her feel supported. It was difficult, realigning long-term goals in life. She had wanted to finish school, head to university, get a successful career, and make her parents proud. Those things were still on the table, but now she had a new goal, one even bigger. She had fallen in love, and fallen hard, with one of her classmates, an unlikely candidate named Joey Granger. And if being with him meant she had to compromise her long-term goals, if it meant that she had to aim for a new target, then Indira would have to make changes.

It was scary, but she didn't feel alone. Donna and Eliza, two older women, two mentors that she had never considered before, would be with her every step of the way, she was sure of it.

"I've never talked to my mom like this," Indira admitted. "She'd freak out if she knew what I was even thinking about. She wouldn't understand."

"Then let us," Donna said, brushing a strand of hair behind Indira's ear. "Let us be your mothers for this part of your life."

Eliza added, quietly, "You're not alone anymore."

They talked for a long time after that. About love. About bodies. About desire and control. Juniper groaned once or twice and muttered something snarky, but didn't lift her head. Donna ran her fingers through Indira's hair at one point. Eliza corrected a few ideas gently, lovingly, like she was helping Indira prepare for an exam she was determined to ace.

By the time there was a knock at the door, the air was charged. The conversation had turned sensual, electric, the older women sharing more intimate, exciting ideas. Indira felt like she was being remade, a new world opening before her and she was evolving to adapt, to thrive.

All three women froze.

The knock came again.

"Maybe I should get changed," Donna said quietly, climbing to her feet and slipping upstairs, leaving Indira staring at her teacher, wondering which one of them would answer the door.