Cheating Gods of Death (Sequel to L: Find A GirLfriend)

Two

The house was almost a little more talkative overall since Ryuuk came. Dinner was never boring, and everyone talked to him at various points of the day. It was nice to come home and have him asking what you did. Mom hated to be asked what had happened in such a nondescript, polite way. She preferred "Who had an appointment today?" or "Anything interesting happen at the office?" Dad hated being asked in general- what was there to say? Erica had a set answer: "Nothing." One grew tired of it quickly. The question wasn't usually passed around, but I love to be asked with some kind of odd attachment.

The truth is, Mom has been so busy these past years. I speak as if she was an angel on earth, and she was, when Dad was here. It was the difference between Ramona and Dr. Ramona Lawliet, single mother of two. One baked anything and everything she felt like anytime and all the time, the other hardly felt like making dinner. One would take us to the zoo, or to a National Forest, the other would drive us to the city. One played in the dirt and the grass with me, the other would go shopping and to movies with Erica.

Really, I wasn't sure who she liked more. I didn't know who either of them liked more.

Something in me would always point to Erica, like a demented compass. It would always slice through me when I turned my head- I had to look at it even though it jerked and cut me then, too. There were times when I couldn't stand having a sister.

She was always so dreamy... I never felt as if I had authority over her. Like my father, she was determined with a deadly silence. Rarely now do I feel connected with her- we've learned to live our lives apart as Mom drifted into work and hope and bitterness.

"Are you going to keep going?"

I had stopped in the doorway to the dining room because I had heard Mother singing.

"Well, are you? You know, I don't like being ignored."

"The whole house can hear you! Ssh!"

"O mio babbino caro..."

"Your Mother?"

"Yes! Sush!"

Grandma wanted her to go to art school to become a stage actress for Broadway. If you scrutinize her, you can tell she's far out for practice, but to the layman she's wonderfully skilled. I never sang, I was too busy with sports to tell if I was any good. Erica doesn't think she is, she's tried before.

"Mi piache, è bello bello!"

The truth is, Mom was a fine arts nerd in High School, and took voice lessons to achieve a three octave range. I knew a lot of stories about Mom's escapades before she went to the UK. After, it was "We", meaning her and Dad and medical school with me on her hip.

All I really knew about Dad's glory days was that he pursued his career from a young age, lived in extreme anonymity, was a loner, and- Oh, and, was the smartest confused crybaby in the world. My dad, L, the world's most skilled detective, the faggot extraordinaire. Liberace with a purpose.

"-vo'andare in Porta Rossa..."

I'm sure he was in there with her, pausing his ceaseless typing and searching to lift his head to her. I'm sure she felt his company, and fed off of it.

"...A comperar l'annelo!"

The stovetop was surely on, and she may have been boiling pasta, singing that particular tune for beauty or irony, or because she wanted to.

"Si, si, ci vogilo andare!"

Dad might eat it- though she'd have to present it as the only option. He would because he knew she was right.