The Devil Named Deimos

The Dinner

Everyone in the room noticed the cold interaction between us, but said nothing. Instead the conversation moved on and I had never been so relieved. The whole time I was observing the body language of Deimos's parents. They sit so far from each other, but I notice that his father is angled towards Mrs. Themis, yet she completely faces away from him. On the other hand, my mother sits right next to my father, their shoulders brush against each other's and my father's arm is laying on the couch behind her.

Deimos is sitting on a chair by himself, the glass of whiskey my father had offered him still in his hand. He's still watching me, and my blood seems to pump faster. He raises his eyebrow as if I was the one caught staring. I rolled my eyes at him, me and him were certainly not going to get along. Deimos, his mother, and I had pitched into the conversation here and there but it was mostly just his father and my parents carrying it.

"Aurora, dear how old are you?" Mrs. Themis halted the entire conversation and all the attention turned to me. It wasn't a strange question, but the suddenness of it catches me off guard.

"I'm 21, Mrs. Themis." My age seems to shock a lot of people, seeing as I brought my parent's company to the top at such a young age. I graduated high school early, and skipped a grade. Then for my college education, it was very compacted, with the main purpose for me to take over the business as quickly as possible. Before I took over, my parent's business was dying down, and the board was requesting somebody young with fresh ideas to take over. My parent's thought who would be better than their own daughter.

"So young and so successful, very impressive Aurora," Mr. Themis says with a warm smile. He seemed much more welcoming than his wife, but maybe that's just because I don't know her.

"Thank you, Mr. Themis. I've worked hard to get to this point." His words bring a full bloomed smile to my face because when someone recognizes the work I've done to grow this business, I am never happier.

"Just Rigel, dear. I see so much of your sister in you," he remarks, his eyes studying me closely. This makes me go rigid, it's only been a year and my heart hasn't healed yet. The room turns into silence, as I clench my jaw to hold back the tears when memories of the funeral race in my mind.

My older sister and I were supposed to take over the business together, I wasn't supposed to be all alone like I am now. But before she even had a chance to, life decided to fuck with me and take my sister away. She was my other half, and without her I feel like a shadow of who I used to be.

Rigel said what he did with good intention but my wound is too fresh still to handle any remembrance of my sister. I don't meet his eyes as I look up, my face void of a smile, and I'm sure my eyes echo back hollowness. I see my mother hunch and my father look down at the ground in misery. Her death hit us all hard.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Deimos frown and he looks like he is confused. It's evident he has no idea I even had a sister. Their family obviously does not communicate well.

My mother is the first one to speak, she stands up and smooths out her skirt. Her hands were trembling and I wanted to hug her once again. With a shaky voice she says, "Time for dinner?"

---

The clangs of expensive silverware across china plates aren't loud enough to drown my thoughts. Ever since Mr. Themis mentioned my sister, a wave of mourning hit me and I haven't been able to resurface since then. I eat in silence and simply let myself listen to the conversation. How my parents are strong enough to continue conversation and shove the past behind, is far beyond me. Every piece of food that I shove in my mouth seem to choke me.

"So, Deimos, you're a handsome man," my mother starts to say, and I can't help but agree, "How's that love life of yours?" She nearly wiggles her eyebrows at the end, and I shoot her a glare but silently thank her for lightening the mood of the room. After all, when is it not too typical of her to be nosy.