2 Chapter 2

The sun seeped through the hand-painted stained glass at both sides of the doorway, creating a mesmerizing symphony of colors inside the small foyer. It was a bright day outside and the light only enhanced the shades. I pulled open the door and found myself immediately embraced by the cold arms of a breeze. I stepped inside the house again with a shudder and grabbed my loose blazer from the recently polished armoire on the right, thinking the sun blazing in the sky could’ve been only a bright accessory because the morning was definitely chilly.

Buffy was already inside the car with her arms crossed over her white, tailored blazer, one she’d gotten at some fancy store in Chicago with delicate purple stripes—just totally girly—and glaring at something beside her window, which translated into “I’m too mad at you to look at you right now.”

I opened the driver’s door and slipped inside the car. Before putting the keys in the ignition, I turned and apologized to her. But first, I paused. “I…” tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock…

Just say it, Dafne.

“I'm sorry, Buffy,” I finally said. “I really am.”

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock...

Nothing.

“Buffy?”

She gave a deep sigh and unfolded her arms. “Before talking to you again, I need the heater on.” She turned to look at me when I gave no response. “Unless you want to die by freezing to death with these thin blazers.” Still, I gave her no response. “In that case, don’t count me in.” She turned back and crossed her arms once more.

I swallowed back a smile and this time, gave her a worthy response. “Your wish is my command.” I shifted in my seat and settled as if about to sleep, even if I was, indeed, freezing my butt. But no need to show her that.

She took in a deep breath and let it out forcefully. “Stop the games and put the heater on!” she said facing me. “Please, Dafne, okay, I said please!”

“Fine, fine. There’s no need to plead.”

“Argh! You truly are a pain in the ass.”

“I know.” I turned on the car and the heater.

“If this is your lame attempt at an apology, then you failed. Completely failed.”

I reached down the pocket of my jacket and took out the silver package. “Here,” I tossed it on her lap. “You forgot this.” At least she would be less moody with food in her stomach. Guys weren’t the only ones who turned grumpy without food. Girls had the same problem sometimes, even worse if combined with a little friend that knocked on our doors every single month.

She made no move.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know. It’s really bad if you skip it.”

She laughed without a single trace of amusement. “Oookay, now you worry about my diet? The gates of the Twilight Zone have opened, ladies and gentleman,” she announced, looking around as if an audience was watching us.

“Buffy,” I said with a small voice, and paused. She was right to say these things and be angry at me. I barely talked to her, and when I did, only derisive words exploded from my mouth. Yep. I was Ms. Ice Queen embodied.

“Buffy,” I said once more. “I know this is really hard to believe, but, I do worry about you.” I lowered my head and twisted my fingers uncomfortable. “You’re my sister and…and, well, you know…”

“It doesn’t seem like it, Dafne,” she said with a smaller voice as well, no tinge of fury coloring her words this time, just the hum of sadness. “You’ve changed so much these last two years that it’s hard to remember the person you used to be. You’ve really turned into this Ice Queen since…” She trailed off and sighed. “Well, you know since when.”

Of course I knew since when, but neither of us dared to speak about it out loud. It was too much to handle, I guess. We dealt with the piercing sorrow on our own, digging the dagger in our hearts in solitude. Gran was the strong one in the house; she always managed to pull up a warm smile for us. If she suffered for the loss of her daughter—needless to say there was no doubt about her muted sufferance—she gave no signs of her mourning at all. And Aunt Morgan hardly spent time around the house, so it was more complicated to decipher her feelings. The only times we saw her was on weekends. Sporadically. Very, very sporadically. Then, late at night, we just heard the soft roar of her car in the driveway and her footsteps cracking the stairs when she climbed up to her room.

Everyone lived in their own world. Gran was the one that strung our lives on the same thread.

“Sometimes when I read or watch a movie,” Buffy continued, “I leave my door open, hoping you’ll come in to talk, or do something. But you always pass by. You don’t even look at me. You just ignore me, like I’m a ghost or something.”

My heart squeezed. “If you were a ghost, Buffy, I would run, not pass by.” I told her, trying to lessen the thickness in the air.

She half smiled. “Yeah, I know how afraid you are of ghosts, that’s why I’m telling you this.” Her voice hushed as if talking to herself. “You’re afraid of me.”

“I'm not,” I said immediately. But seconds later, a big fat uncertainty settled down in my head. Was I afraid of my sister? Of being alone with her? We were different in almost every aspect, yes. But there was that connection deep down inside ourselves that always brought us together, even if our worlds collided. It was that soul-rooted link that compelled us to seek one another from time to time, to need one another.

Since our parents died, however, an odd necessity to build a brick wall between us had transpired. Not having that connection was easier somehow, and I wanted to keep it like that.

But sometimes little sacrifices needed to be made.

“You are,” she insisted with that small voice.

“Okay… to prove to you that I’m not afraid of you—lie—as you think I am, I promise you that from this day on, I’ll try to be nicer and spend more time with you.” Just as I’d promised to Gran.

Her eyes narrowed and she spun toward me. “Is this more of your subzero bullcrap?” she asked dubious and a bit irritated. “Because if it is, I won’t take more of it today. I’ve had an overdose.”

I was about to retort more of that subzero bullcrap when, surprisingly, I snapped my mouth shut and let the nice one speak. “You won’t have any more of it, really.”

Her brown eyes widened. “I think you’re actually serious,” she said, surprised.

“I am.”

“Wow.” She blinked several times. “Okay.” She said it as if she didn’t know what else to say, and then, “Since I don’t know how long this new shiny Dafne will last, you have to promise me one more thing, right now.”

I took in a deep breath and readied for her request. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“Promise me you’ll never, ever, call me Buffy the Vampire Slayer again.” She pointed her sharp eyes on mine.

I couldn’t help it and laughed.

“It’s. Not. Funny.”

“I agree, it’s not funny. It’s dead funny.”

“That’s because you weren’t named after a crappy movie. I mean, what was Mom thinking? Did her neurons explode while searching for a name? Obviously that didn’t happen with you. You got a rocking German name and all. So unfair.”

“Hey, at least you’re not a nymph transformed into a pathetic laurel for life. You’re a hardcore kick-ass chick with a really hot vampire guy in love with you—at least in the TV series,” I added.

“What about one of the most important gods chasing your butt?”

“Apollo isn’t as hot as your fanged guy.”

She paused to think about it and smiled, flipping her blonde waves to the side. “Yeah…I think you’re right. But you haven’t promised me the name thing yet.” She glared at me again.

I turned and placed both hands on the steering wheel. “Sure, I promise,” I said a bit unwillingly. I loved to use that name to banter with her and letting it go was a pity.

I looked at the digital clock on the middle of the dashboard. We were so going to be late. “What I won’t promise, though…” I put the car on reverse. “…is to let go of my speed crap today. Fasten your seat belt.” I commanded, looking over my shoulder

“Oh, no,” she looked at the time. “Only five minutes to get to school. Mr. Ludlow is going to kill me. Drive. Fast!”

I pulled out the car from the driveway with a smile on my face and speeded down the long gray road.

avataravatar
Next chapter