We have read too much poetry. I fear we have ruined love with words.
. . .
CHAPTER - 3
"I want to kill the person who did this and their family," Marie whispered to me while petting Minnie's head. Minnie purred, stretching her hinder legs. Marie was a tiny grey British shorthair whose previous owner had not been caring or a decent person. Her eyes were nothing but two healed wounds.
I set my head against Marie's shoulder, sighing as I looked down at Minnie, who was stretched on her favorite Disney blanket. "I want to kill what they love."
Mrie laughed gently, her dark fingers now scratching Minnie's belly as the kitten purred again. "I wish we'll find someone who'll adopt her, soon. She doesn't deserve to live in a cage her whole life."
Minnie stood and clumsily walked towards us. My heart hurt watching her. I gently picked her up and set her down in the tiny gap between Marie and me. She curled into a ball, probably ready to sleep again. Kittens slept a lot. When I got my first kitten, I thought something was wrong with her until my dad and I researched almost the whole night so that I could take care of her properly.
That was when I was ten.
"It is your birthday in half an hour," Marie said after a while of us just sitting there, looking at the various animals in the cages. "I have a gift for you." She grinned at me. Everything about Marie was ridiculously gentle and optimistic. The way she smiled her hugs, her eyes. She stood up while gathering her long braids in her hands, securing them with a green scrunchie. She walked away, keeping her steps light.
We didn't need to stay this long here. We just liked spending time here and with each other. Marie had been my best friend since sixth grade. She had been a constant in my life since the day she showed up.
She walked back in, a grin still on her back and her hands holding a bag behind her back. "I might have gone overboard but...well, you don't turn twenty-two every day. Please don't yell about the price."
"I will make no such promise."
She rolled her eyes while shaking her head and handed me the bag. "If you yell, Minnie will wake up."
I opened the bag and pulled the dress out.
"So?!" She almost jumped in excitement. "What do you think?"
The dress was maroon with all the stitching done with silver thread. It had a built-in corset and sleeves which covered only the upper arms and dropped from the shoulders delicately. The skirt was nothing but random layers, giving it a semi-abstract look.
I looked at her. "How much-"
"Don't!" She said. "Please, don't. It will look beautiful on you. You love maroon, and this dress just screams Dahlia."
I bit into my tongue to refrain from asking again. It looked expensive and it made me feel anxious when people spent money on me. If there was one thing my parents had drilled into my head, it was that if you accept things for free, you pay for them sooner or later and rarely with money.
But it was just a dress.
I smiled at Marie. "It is beautiful, M. This has to be one of the best gifts I've ever received."
That was a lie. It was the best gift I had ever received. But there was too much vulnerability in admitting that. My birthdays were always overshadowed by my sister's gifts.
Because she was the miracle baby.
. . .
"I don't remember you buying this dress," were the first words which came out of my sister's mouth as I entered my parents' house. A birthday dinner was a tradition for the family which consisted of our parents giving us gifts, and all of us stuffing our faces with cake. It was fun. Well, it used to be.
"Marie gifted me this."
"It must be expensive," she said. She was dressed in the dress she had bought at the boutique, a beautiful red dress. "It looks expensive."
"I don't know the price," I said to her as we entered the kitchen. Dad was decorating the cake, and Mom was sitting on the counter with a book in her hands.
They smiled as they saw us. Mom gasped, putting the book down. "That dress, Dahlia." She almost ran towards me. "Beautiful. It suits you so much."
I grinned. "Thank you, Mom."
"It looks beautiful," Dad said with a smile. "Both of you look amazing. Now, come on. I'm done with the cake. Let's eat."
I could feel Emilia staring at me.
. . .
The dinner went by without much trouble. My parents were very excited about Emilia leaving for Broadway, and I was excited to get out. I didn't plan on going to the party, of course. Because I was petty and none of my friends would be there.
I had two friends - Marie and Otto. There was a time when my friend group consisted of about ten to twelve people, but time filters things in your life without permission. Now, they were nothing but pictures on social media.
I left the house as soon as I could. I didn't hate my family, but the four of us together for a long time, more often than not, ended up in arguments. Our personalities clashed. Emilia was loud, Dad was assertive, Mom was always trying to mend things and I was unresponsive.
Something that irritated all of my family members who couldn't, for a life of them, understand why I didn't have bigger reactions to things.
Emilia followed me to the car. "I'll see you at the party."
I paused, my hand on the handle of my car which was a very old blue Maserati.
I turned. The sun had fallen off the sky, and the night was to take over in just a few moments. Emilia seemed uncertain as she looked anywhere but at me. "I'm sorry about my outburst."
"I'm not going to be at the party," I said. "I'm going to Otto's bar with Marie."
"Come on, Dahlia. I said I was sorry." She stomped her foot. "I'm sorry. I just really like Elliot and, well, I got protective."
"Maybe keep in mind that I'm your sister?" I asked. "Not some random girl who's trying to steal your boyfriend. Who is not even your boyfriend."
She sighed, placing her hands on her tiny waist. "I said I was sorry. Please come to the party. Bring Marie!"
The night finally drowned everything. "Emilia, you want to celebrate your birthday your way. I want to celebrate it my way. I forgive you, but I'm not coming to the party. Okay?"
She looked angry for a second but then gave me a curt nod and stomped away. I didn't know how she could stomp in heels.
. . .
"Do you think they actually fucked?" Otto asked me as he set down a glass of rum and a glass of red wine in front of Marie and me.
I sipped the rum. "I don't know. She could be lying."
"She's too used to lying," Marie muttered under her breath, fingers wrapping around the neck of her glass. "Especially to you. Chances are, they talked for two minutes and she formed the rest in her mind."
"Hey, don't say that-"
"You know it can be true," Otto injected. "She's your sister. You know her."
I sighed. My relationship with my sister was the weirdest thing in the world. There was jealousy, there was love, and there was hate. And there were a shit ton of lies.
You couldn't trust her to tell the truth, that was true. My parents had tried to get that habit out of her, but because of her health, they cut her a lot of slack.
And directed all their disciplining to me.
"I don't know if she was lying," I said, gulping down the liquid. "But she is interested. And he probably is, too. So why are we even talking about this?"
"You're the one who brought him up," Otto said as he returned from serving someone. "Not us."
I sighed. "He's so pretty." I set my elbows on the counter and then my chin on my hands. "The prettiest eyes, I swear."
Otto and Marie shared a look.
"I wouldn't use the word pretty," Otto said. "I wouldn't even use the word handsome. There too much going on with him to only focus on the beauty."
"I wanna see him," Marie whined.
"Go to Em's party then," I said. "Apparently, he is her date."
Both of them grimaced. It was weird how after years of staying together people acted like each other. Our vocabulary and actions are intertwined with everyone we know. Everything is influenced. Everything has been done before.
"I kinda wanna go now," Marie said. "But-"
"Oh my," Otto interrupted, eyes widening as he looked at something. "Don't look now, but - I said don't fucking look-"
We looked, of course. And he walked into the bar.
He was dressed in another one of his impeccable suits. His scar looked thinner today, somehow. His eyes scanned the room quickly and when they found me, they stopped.
And then he walked towards me with unhurried, determined steps.
. . .