Danse Macabre 2: Dark Awakenings

Too Much of a Good Thing

14

That Saturday, after a week of rehearsals with the amateur ballet and classes with the Westley Ballet my body was completely fatigued. I slept until noon buried under the covers and blissfully alone for a change. Aleksi and Nikolai had become roommates—the idea of them agreeing to share an apartment seemed peculiar to me. Still, living together agreed with them. Hints were dropped that they were no longer comfortable with me living alone. Part of me wanted to cling to the safety they offered, to take them up on their proposition simply because I lived seven blocks from where not one but two of the bodies were found. The Sun Cross had grown silent since the murder spree but Florence wasn't the only city hit. Each city had a number of couples killed that matched the percentage of the population that was cohabitating with vampires. That's why you won't move in. I pulled the comforter over my head and listened to the rain hitting the windows. Today was a gloomy, sleep in and work on my dissertation kind of day. However, other individuals failed to acknowledge the demands of the atmosphere.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Someone was knocking on my door. I threw a small temper tantrum was wrapped in the covers, kicking the blanket and rumpling the sheets. Thud. Thud. Thud. I wanted to say go away. I wanted to be left alone, but I couldn't leave a door unanswered—I was trained too well by my mother. So, as that last knock lingered I got out of bed, pulled on my bright red satin robe to cover my satin floor length night gown and went to the door.

Raising on my toes I peeked into the peephole to find my mother on the other side. She looked so charming. Her makeup was done expertly, muted tones of course because it was before five. Her hair was expertly curled and coiffed, the salt and pepper tresses were pulled over her shoulder stopping just at the crook of her elbow. Her deep olive skin hardly sagged and had few lines—aside from her hair my mother was aging kicking and screaming. My entire life, the scent I most associated with her wasn't her Chanel no. 5 but her face cream. And then, behind her appeared my blonde and perfect sister with the stroller. I almost didn't want to open the door. Dread made a nest in the pit of my stomach as I stared at that baby through that miniscule piece of glass. My sister was my mother's magnum opus, her crowning achievement in her eyes. My sister did everything she was supposed to do. The cheerleader, prom queen, married by twenty two, blonde haired, blue eyed, stay at home wife had now completed my mother's checklist for ideal life for a woman. My sister had a pretty little blonde robot—I mean baby—of her own.

With a deep breath I opened the door like someone would pull off a band-aid, because I knew if I lingered I probably wouldn't open it. Oh, how wide the two of them beamed at me as I forced myself to smile back at them.

"Autumn, it's noon," my mother whispered, like it was some kind of secret, her dark eyes sweeping over my attire.

"It's great to see you! Come in, I'll make us some coffee," I went full hostess mode as they filed passed me.

"Oh, Autumn, your apartment is beautiful. This is so much nicer than your last place. I always imagined you in an apartment like this. It's so very chic, and modern," my sister gushed over my apartment as she looked around.

"Thank you. Sorry about being in my pajamas. I have had a tough week and I wasn't expecting any guests today," I explained walking over to the kitchen.

"Oh? Your sister has had a tough week as well, you know. Our little Philippa had an ear infection, and Marc's away on business..." my mother continued to speak but I tuned her out as I brewed the coffee. "That mess with these Sun Cross people hasn't directly effected you."