By Teresa Burns Gunther

War Paint

NEW MILLENNIUM WRITINGS

February 2022

Winner, 52nd New Millennium Award for Fiction

Bennett sucks in a deep breath and knocks. He’s not ready for his sister. He eyes the spiny cactus and shudders as the massive oak door swings wide. Cassie’s dressed for Thanksgiving in a long brown skirt and buckled shoes. She looks happy to see him, gives him a quick hug but the first thing out of her mouth is, “Where’s Margo?”

“She couldn’t come.” He knows what she’s thinking: Little brother fucked up. Again.
Lily steps out from behind Cassie. She’s six, in red cowboy boots and an orange ruffled dress. “Hi Uncle Bennett,” she says and wraps her chubby arms around his legs. He’s ridiculously pleased. He gives her the airplane wings the flirty flight attendant gave him.

“Who’s Margot?” Lily asks, considering the gift.

“Bennett’s girlfriend,” Cassie says.

Lily giggles. Cassie asks what happened with Margot. Her hair, once a dark curly mop like Lily’s, is now straight and the color of the cashews their mother kept in a bowl in the living room, though he can’t remember ever having company. Lines fan from the corners of her eyes, another way she’s changed.