Chapter Text
It had been six weeks since Chloe was fired.
The green couch sagged as she lay, chin tilted towards the sky. Her eyes followed the old ceiling fan, for its movement was hypnotic, and kept her eyes awake. The room was hotter than usual; the sun pierced her sheer curtains, catalyzing the formation of sweat, which trickled down her temples and back. Exhausted by nothing, she sighed heavily with each breath.
Minutes moved by, with the overhead clock ticking with sudden precision. Suddenly, her phone rang loudly in the kitchen.
Ugh, she thought, getting up slowly. I bet it's my landlord. Again.
Chloe made her way to the kitchen, which was currently a sight for sore eyes. Dishes piled higher in the sink, and the start of a musty smell emanated from the bottom. Chloe scrunched her nose for a quick moment, then turned to the phone. An unknown number, she thought, scoffing, I don’t need to answer that. She turned away, and the phone clicked shortly after. Now, I should really get this kitchen cleaned—
“Hi, this is Zoe.”
Chloe’s heart stopped.
“I heard you are back in town. Hope I can see you soon. Maybe we can grab some coffee, catch up. And I hope—”
In one swift moment, Chloe snatched the phone, pressed the END button, and threw her phone towards the couch like it was the plague. Her hands pressed into the counter, eyes wide with fear.
This can’t be happening, she thought, face blanched. This can’t be happening. How did she get my number? What do I do? How do I respond?
She paced around the room, considering the next move.
God, where did she get the gall to call me? We haven’t spoken in years, this is going to be awkward as hell! How should I start? Oh, I know. ‘Hi little sis, sorry for ignoring you and dad for the past SIX YEARS.’ Hahaha…shit what was the number that called me again—
Chloe’s breathing hitched. Wait. How did she get my number?
There was no way Zoe could have gotten her number. Chloe remembered changing her number the day before she left for New York. No one, not even Zoe, knows her new number now. A tired hand slapped her forehead, and she closed her eyes with relief. This could have been a fluke.
She began to chuckle. The heat was most definitely messing with her head. Chloe looked up at the ceiling, blinking slowly at the imminent fear she almost faced. “I need to take a shower,” she mumbled.
The fan continued to spin, creaking more harshly as time passed.
The shower was cold as ice. Chloe usually didn’t like cold showers, as they always felt too harsh and invasive. However, today was an exception, because it was hot as fuck: nothing was worse than sitting in your sweat. It also gave her a little clarity to think about what happened yesterday at the Pick-and-Find.
Initially, she wanted to turn down the offer Anarka made her. The pay would not be great, and would put her college degree to waste. However, it was difficult to find a good job, especially if companies were turning her down left and right. The fact that she was fired in the first place was not a good look for her image. She sighed; was it wrong to wish Alya would break a heel and fall into the river? Chloe chuckled at the thought.
But no amount of manifesting could get her a decent job, and this may be the only offer she would encounter. Chloe stepped out of the shower and, with pinched brows, wrapped a towel around her chest. Then, she called the number Anarka gave her.
A whirring fuzz sounded over the phone. “Hello?” a voice erupted, crackling.
“Hi, this is Chloe Bourgeois. I ran into you at the Pick-And-Find a week ago?”
“Oh, were you the one with the blonde hair carrying leopard print leggings?”
Chloe paused for a minute, shocked. “Yeah, I was,” she said, laughing uncomfortably.
“Oh, I remember you now! You have impeccable taste!”
“Thank you…However, I called you because I was wondering if you are still looking to hire anyone?”
“Yes, I am!” Anarka said. “Are you interested?”
“I am…do you know where I can drop off an application?”
“Don’t worry about it! You're hired!”
Chloe’s jaw dropped, floored. “You don’t need a resume or anything?”
“Nope, what day do you want to work?”
“I…uh…hold on, give me one second—” Chloe fumbled around, pulling up her schedule on her phone. The next day was free; Chloe grinned. “Tomorrow will work!” Chloe exclaimed.
“Very well. Do you need the address?”
“I have an idea of where your store is, but send me the address anyway. That would be great.”
After sending out the address and conversing about the job details, it was time to hang up.
“It was great talking to you, dear,” Anarka said. “I will see you tomorrow.”
The phone clicked, and Chloe let out a sigh of relief. What a whirlwind of a phone call that was, she thought.
The next day was the start of her new job at Anarka’s Antiques and Clothing, which was in the heart of downtown . At the doorstep, Chloe felt a wave of nerves. What if I bomb this entire gig? What if I’m not good enough? She shook her head, attempting to ward off these thoughts. With a gentle exhale of breath, she opened the door.
The low volume of rock music sounded throughout the entire store, followed by racks upon racks of resale band t-shirts. The store encapsulated a punk aesthetic: displays of piercings of all shapes, types, materials, and sizes were placed around the store, worn-out tattoo ads were plastered on the wooden wall, and varieties of belts were hung on a long hanger that jutted out quite far.
Definitely not her style, but it was interesting to note.
She walked over to the glass counter, which was vacant. She rang the bell one, two, three times before she was met with a stretch of silence.
Weird, she thought with a slight frown. No answer.
Chloe headed into the back room, expecting at least a co-worker to be present.
She was met with silence again. No one was here.
So why is the store still open?
Just then, she heard a vehicle pull up. Luka entered through the doorway, disheveled. “Mom, hold on, let me get—Chloe? What are you doing back here?”
Chloe's breath hitched, startled. “Is Anarka here? She told me I start work today.”
Luka looked back. “Yeah, but she’s…well…”
“Well, what?” Chloe questioned as she pushed past him and walked through the door.
Chloe’s eyebrows furrowed in concern as she witnessed Anarka Couffaine rummaging through a dumpster.
A tinge of red crept to Luka’s cheeks as he pinched his nose. “She’s in the dumpster, isn’t she?”
Chloe slowly nodded her head.
Anarka poked her head out of the green roll-off container, wearing a crinkly smile. “I found something salvageable! Luka, dear, can you help me lift this thing out?”
Luka walked over silently, climbed into the dumpster, and lifted the bottom of a pink chair. It looked severely worn down, and many inconspicuous holes formed in the fabric. After a minute, the chair was out of the dumpster, Anarka looking at it with pure wonder.
Chloe only had one thought: This is so fucking disgusting.
Though it was not what Anarka Couffaine thought, as she exclaimed, “This is amazing!”
Luka sighed heavily. “Mom, what are you going to use that for?”
Anarka huffed. “For resale, of course.”
“You cannot be serious, we can’t sell this to customers!”
“Well, it just needs to be resewn in these areas—” she said, pointing towards the holes, “Cleaned, stained at the bottom, and it would look good as new!”
“This goes against the Paris county health code, Mom!”
“Excuse me for trying to help Mother Earth—”
Chloe cleared her throat. “Hi, Mrs. Couffaine…”
Anarka looked back and extended a hand. “Chloe dear, so happy you can make it!” she said, shaking Chloe’s hand vigorously.
“Anytime…”
“I take it that you haven’t properly met my son, Luka,” Anarka continued, nodding to the tall man. “He also works here.”
Chloe stifled a smile, looking over at him. “So I’ve gathered.”
“Alright, let's start training! This job isn’t that hard; it's just a matter of taking inventory, ensuring everything is in order, and running the counter. Think of it as managing your own closet! Oh, but first, let’s get you your time card in the back. Follow me, dear…”
Anarka headed to the door, and as Chloe proceeded behind her, she felt a buzz vibrate from her purse. She took out her phone and frowned slightly. It was the same number that called her yesterday. This is strange, Chloe thought to herself. Should I answer this—
“Chloe dear, are you coming in?”
Chloe jolted. “Coming!” she yelled, dazed by both the strange calls and Anarka’s odd behavior.
An interesting way to start her new job, indeed.
“You actually listen to XY?” Luka questioned with a tinge of concern.
It had been a few hours since Chloe arrived. Anarka had left for the day, and left Luka in charge of closing up shop. Though Chloe was permitted to leave early today, she couldn’t help but stay with him, just to get more familiar with the everyday routines. Currently, they were going through a dead period and had a handful of time on their hands. Why not try to get to know her co-worker?
“What about it?” Chloe retorted playfully. “His music is not that bad.”
“I am usually not one to judge music taste, but listening to music by XY? Really ?”
“Oh, do you have any better recommendations?”
“Plenty,” Luka said, smiling. “Green Day, Adele, Frank Sinatra, Dreamcatcher—”
“Wait, Dreamcatcher? Who are they?”
“Rock-infused Korean pop band.”
“Oh. I’ll have to take note of that.” Chloe said. “What about Jagged Stone? You and your mom seem like fans of him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You guys have a lot of his merchandise.”
Luka paused for a minute. “I guess you're right. But I wouldn’t consider myself an avid Jagged Stone listener.”
“But your musical style seems so similar to his,” Chloe said pensively.
“Well, he is…” Luka stopped abruptly. The silence filled the room as he fiddled with his thumbs.
“He’s what?” Chloe pressed.
“He’s…um…just an influence. Yeah.” Luka pushed his palms away from the glass counter and straightened himself. “I’m going to get some lunch. I’ll be back in a few.”
He walked out of the room, leaving Chloe in awkward silence. Weird , she thought. But there was little time to think about what happened when her phone began to ring again.
She glanced over. It was the same number from two hours ago, and a mixture of curiosity and fear emerged as she picked up her phone. She could answer it and tell the person over the phone that this was the wrong number. They could laugh it off, hang up, and go about their day. However, she could not shake the feeling that the person calling her for the third time in a row was doing this by accident. Someone she knew was trying to contact her.
So she let the phone ring.
And ring. And ring. And ring. Finally, the phone call ended with a click.
Chloe let out a sigh of relief. Well, I don’t have to deal with that today—
“Hey Chloe, this is your sister, Zoe Bourgeios,” the voice said. “I hope I have the right number. Please contact me when you can. I would love to see you again. Bye.”
The voicemail ended, leaving Chloe’s face white with terror.
Objectively speaking, it was a nice voicemail. She found out her sister wanted to see her again, and she didn’t seem to hold any animosity. This was supposed to be good news. However, Chloe could not help but feel dread as she sank into the grey-cushioned rolling chair, thinking, "Why is this happening to me?"
Chloe remembered her treatment of Zoe: the condescending looks, the cold shoulder. The unneeded backhanded compliments on her dress, the way she would humiliate her at every chance. All these subtle, yet powerful actions made their relationship incredibly distant and cold. However, there was one event in particular that catalyzed their distance, and soiled the half-sister connection. It soured Chloe’s mood to think about it, however.
She got up and turned off her phone. No need to answer, she thought.
Chloe walked around the empty store, the little speaker in the corner emitting heavy metal. This is a heavy grunge aesthetic indeed, she thought once more, as she sifted through the t-shirts. One caught her eye: it was navy blue, with a lime green shout callout behind outlined pink lettering that said: JAGGED STONE WORLD TOUR in janky, uneven handwriting. She turned it around; all of the cities Jagged Stone went to were plastered on the back. The shirt has potential, but it needs some tweaking.
Chloe laid the shirt down on the counter. I’m going to need some pins, she thought. “Luka!” she called to the back, “Do we have any sewing pins anywhere back there?”
Luka looked back, swallowing a bite of his sandwich. “Not that I’m aware of,” he said, as he got up. “Why?”
“I’m trying to redesign a t-shirt.”
“In what way?”
“Well,” Chloe began, stepping to the side once he emerged, “I’m thinking about cutting a certain portion of the t-shirt, hemming different quarters of the shirt to make the product finished but fitting it’s proper aesthetic, and maybe doing something with the collar, but I’m not quite sure…”
“You seem like you know your stuff,” Luka said, with an intrigued look in his eyes. “What got you into it?”
“I did it when I was younger, stopped, then picked it up when money started to get tight,” she said.
“Have you ever thought of repurposing clothes on commission?”
“Yeah, but it’s not super stable in terms of income. I would need to have my own line if I wanted to do that kind of—”
Chloe paused. Wait.
Wait, wait, wait, what did I just think about right now, hold on—
An idea came into fruition. “That’s it!” Chloe said, pounding her fist on the counter.
Luka jolted, taken aback by the sudden noise. “What are you talking about?”
“I have an idea, a concept I just thought just now,” Chloe stated. “What if I created my own clothing line?”
It was early evening when Luka and her closed the shop.
“Sorry, I talked your ear off about the whole clothing shop idea,” Chloe said sheepishly.
“No worries,” Luka said. “I don’t mind listening.”
Not many people say that, Chloe thought, waving him goodbye. She spun on her heel and strolled towards the nearest thrift shop, which was called Kit’s. The smell of musty wood and dust filled the room, and Chloe could not help but feel a slight calm.
As she sifted, a memory resurfaced, bringing her back to her early teens. It was a cloudy and dark afternoon, with signs of thunderstorms looming over the Eiffel Tower. Chloe Bourgeois was thirteen years old, her mother left again for New York, and she was going through the beginning stages of a rebellious phase. During this period, the butler would always be put through hell, and her father consistently tried to appease her by spoiling her rotten. But the hole in her heart began to grow larger, deeper. Nothing brought her joy; even the fleeting attention of her father and butler was always a short-lived victory in a losing war.
That day turned into one of those lazy, lonely days. As she gazed out the huge windows in the hotel, she thought of her mother. Successful, beautiful, daring, fashionable: these were all the traits this woman had, and what Chloe aspired to have when she grew up. She knew and understood why her mom left to pursue her passion, and thought she had grown accepting of her frequent departures. She should have been fine with it at this point.
But…
There was a feeling she could not put into proper words at the time, that took a piece from her soul every time she was not around.
She glanced at her messy closet. It had a wide variety of clothing from different brands, textures, styles, and purposes. A purple scarf caught her eye instantly; it lay on the ground, its silk material meshing with each other. Chloe picked it up and, at random, wrapped it around her chest. This could be a cute strapped top if I altered it a little—
She paused and quickly grabbed a pair of hair clips from her drawer. In the corner of her eye, she saw scissors, beads, and tacks. The ideas came to her like a paintbrush violently smacking a canvas, painting unmade lines in her brain. Alterations could be made, things could be repurposed, and the possibilities seemed endless to a young girl with nothing else to do.
This small moment, Chloe reflected, began the start of a lifelong pastime. She smiled wistfully and began to sift through the small pants section when a phone buzzed in her pocket. The spell was broken. Chloe grabbed her phone to look at the caller ID; she groaned in exasperation. Zoe’s number appeared on the screen. The woman quickly declined her incoming call and left the store.
The calls kept coming. And every single time, Chloe refused to pick up.
By the time Thursday hit, she had received twelve calls from Zoe’s number in total. Voice messages were initially used, but later on in the week, the number would just call. As she wiped the glass shelves at the front desk, she felt a buzz in her pocket. It was the second call of that day, but this became a normal aspect of her day. She let it ring.
And ring.
And ring.
And—
Chloe declined the call. She was getting tired of this and just wanted one wish to be granted: to have Zoe stop spam calling her. Get the message, she thought. I don’t need you in my life.
“Why don’t you answer?” Luka asked. “They may stop spam calling you—”
“This is none of your business,” Chloe said, quickly cutting him off. “Can we just get back to work?”
“You’ve been in a sour mood all day, and it’s so bad that the customers are sensing the negative energy. Did you see the look on that poor lady’s face when she was checking out?”
Chloe rolled her eyes, head propped on her hand. “It was not that bad, don’t be so dramatic.”
“I just think you should talk to someone about your issues.”
“Why are you lecturing me? I don’t even know you!” Chloe snapped. “Could we just drop this? I don’t need a shoulder to cry on.”
Luka looked at her pitifully. “You're a very guarded person, you know that?”
That struck a chord. Her eyes averted as she said, “What do you mean?”
“Do you have any friends? Be honest.”
Chloe stood upright. “Of course I do! I—”
She stopped short. Luka still held that pitiful look in his eyes, as if he were looking at a wounded animal. She looked down, biting her lip in embarrassment.
“What am I even saying?” Chloe chuckled dryly. She collapsed in her seat and buried her face in her hands. Luka walked over, knelt by her side, and placed a hand on her back.
“Pretend you have one, and tell me what’s wrong.”
“That’s silly.”
“Just try to.”
This is so stupid , she thought. Then, she took a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils, frustrated. “It’s my sister, Zoe.”
“She’s the one who’s been calling you non-stop? Why won’t you answer her?”
“...we aren’t very close.”
“Did she do anything to hurt you?”
“Why are you asking me so many questions?”
“Sorry, you give me minimal responses. Elaborate.”
“You're not my therapist.”
He sighed. “Sorry. I’ll stop asking.”
“Thank you.” She unwound her hands and set them on the counter. “But to answer you, no. She did nothing at all. But it’s because she did nothing that makes me not want to talk to her.”
Chloe glanced at Luka, who nodded at her to continue. Her lips thinned slightly.
“Zoe and I are half-sisters, born from the same mom, that is. And we never met until she moved to Paris in my sophomore year of high school. She was quite the opposite of me; optimistic, bubbly, and colorful. Zoe had spirit and passion for almost everything, whether that was for her education, friends, or art. You know, maybe if I addressed my superiority complex early on, we could have been good sisters. But I never did, and I was always insanely jealous of her. It started with the snarky comments about her appearance. Then, it progressed in school when I would make backhanded insults at her artwork. These acts were subtle, but I wanted every word to kill her heart. But…I went too far one day.” She gulped. “Let's say, what I did…I…it was the reason she didn’t get into art school.” She took a pen and started to click it repeatedly. “It was her dream school, too,” she said, voice breaking slightly. “And I fucked up everything for her.”
A beat of silence filled the empty store. Eyes downcast, Chloe turned to Luka. “I must sound like a monster to you, don’t I?”
Luka said nothing. Instead, his hand slid away from her back and gripped her shoulder firmly. “I think you should go talk to her.”
Chloe shook her head. “Didn’t I tell you? I can’t see her, I don’t deserve to be involved in her life anymore—”
“Who are you to decide?” Luka said sharply. “She’s calling you multiple times a day.”
“How would I respond? ‘Sorry for all of the terrible shit I’ve done to you in the past, AND for ignoring you’?” she said shortly. “Also, what if I don’t want to see her? Did you ever consider that?”
She got up and was about to leave when the bell rang above the door. Adrien Agreste strided in with the confidence of a peacock. Chloe almost fought the urge to roll her eyes as he approached the desk. He glanced at Chloe for a second before shifting his gaze to Luka.
“Hey man!” Adrien said, combing through his blonde hair and smiling broadly. “How have you been?”
“Never been better,” Luka said sarcastically, “Still busking.”
“That’s unfortunate, man.”
Luka shrugged. “It’s fine with me. I still have income from this job, so it evens out a little.”
Adrien eyes him intently. “You know, I can open up a position for you at the company if you are interested—”
“I’m not.”
Adrien held his hands up defensively. “Alright, alright. Now, what did I need…oh! I have a pickup order for an 11x13 quartz rock. For Marinette’s birthday, she loves sparkly stuff. But, just curious if you got anything from shipping?”
Luka looked through a series of papers before answering, “Yeah. It’s in the back. Chloe, can you go get it?”
“Yeah,” Chloe said as she went through the curtain, into the back.
The package was hard to find, especially since it was crowded among the other disorganized boxes. As expected, Anarka isn’t the most organized person, she thought. But when she crossed towards the kitchen, she stopped short.
“...so that’s what happened, huh?” Luka said softly.
“Yeah,” Adrien said. “We are heading to his funeral at 16:00. I can’t say I’m excited.”
“No kidding,” Luka said thoughtfully. “I would never be excited to go to a funeral.”
Adrien chuckled painfully. “It stings, though. Setting aside his political affiliation and actions as mayor, I will still miss Andre Bourgeios. I can’t imagine what his daughter is feeling, seeing that she’s been taking care of him—”
Chloe ripped open the curtains, a blanched look on her face. “What do you mean, you will miss Andre Bourgeois? Did something happen to him?”
Adrien looked at her coldly. “Zoe’s been calling you constantly this week. Have you not sensed that something was wrong?”
“No dipshit. She called me so many times, and I didn’t want to answer.”
“You don’t know what happened?” Adrien said, teeth gritting.
“No! That’s what I would like to know!”
“Fine! Your fucking father just passed away from cirrhosis! Happy?”
The news hit Chloe like a freight train, her eyes widening. That’s impossible, she thought. Yeah, he had medical problems, but he was in his mid-fifties at least. It’s quite young to die so soon—
Chloe began to gasp shallow gulps of air. “No, you're lying…” she trailed. This had to be fake. There was so much she should’ve done, could have done for one chance at—
“Can I have my package?” Adrien inquired, arrogance creeping into his voice.
Chloe snapped back into focus. “Yeah.”
After the transaction, Adrien left the store. Chloe was relieved to see him gone, but it was quickly replaced with the overwhelming feeling of grief. Her father had just died, and she never visited him once.
She thought time would always be on her side.
But it wasn’t. And all of those empty minutes staring into space could have been spent with her dad, who was lying on his deathbed. This was something that she couldn’t take back.
“Luka,” she said, pleading. “Can you take me to the funeral?”
He whirled around. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
Luka picked up the keys, locked the door, and shut off the lights. “Let's go,” he said with quiet determination.
“Wait, what about the till—”
“I’ll come back for it,” he said, cutting her off as they headed outside. The sky looked dreary and dark, though it was only mid-afternoon. “My car is this way,” he nodded to the right.
While they walked to the car, Chloe thought of changing her mind. To not go to this gathering, to something that she was not personally invited to.
But…this may be the only chance to run into Zoe. To rip off the eight-year-old bandage that had grown only more dirty and infected as time passed.
The funeral was held at a cheap venue about fifteen minutes away. Chloe and Luka pulled up, an apprehensive mood stifling the air. Chloe quietly unbuckled and almost left before looking over at Luka. He smiled encouragingly. “Just call me when you are ready.” Then, he pulled out of the area and left.
Chloe turned around and exhaled shakily. I can’t believe I’m doing this, she thought as she pushed open the door.
It was a nicely decorated funeral. The lights looked newly replaced, as the warm glow reflected off the cream-colored walls. The tables were all round, and seated about eight people. Although a little crowded in some areas, there were fewer people than she expected. A hole of guilt formed in her stomach. Chloe then began to wander around the area in search of her sister when someone called out her name.
“Chloe!” Mrs. Bustier called enthusiastically, approaching her. “What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect you would turn up.”
Those words stung. Chloe shrugged awkwardly and averted her gaze as the teacher began to apologize.
“I’m so sorry! I know he was your father, of course, you would come! Why wouldn’t you—”
“No, I think you're spot on,” Chloe said with a hint of disdain. “We were never on the same page most of the time anyway.” With that last word, Chloe left her side and walked outside.
The wind howled and weaved through the empty branches as they rattled. The clouds retreated towards the west, dark grey and ominous. I missed the storm, Chloe thought as she paced around the venue.
A shadow next to the lone tree uphill caught her eye. Chloe’s head snapped up, looking in that direction. It was a slumping shape, curled next to an average-sized tombstone. Wait. I recognize that blonde hair anywhere…
With that thought, Chloe ran up the hill, towards the cemetery, and approached the woman next to the tombstone.
It was Zoe. Sleeping on the outer edge of her dad’s tombstone.
She looked like a wreck. Her hair looked frizzy and matted down from the rain, giving the illusion of a wet cat. A furrow lined her brows, and a slight frown donned her face. Her position also looked uncomfortable too, with her head cocked at an angle that would make Chloe’s neck stiff. But when she approached Zoe, ready to wake her up, her eyes flew open.
Chloe stumbled, taken aback. Shit, why did I even come over here—
“Chloe?” Zoe asked, voice groggy but holding volumes of shock. “You actually came?”
Chloe averted her eyes. “Yeah, I did. I left work when I heard the news from Adrien.”
Zoe’s head shot up instantly. “What do you mean? You didn’t get my voice messages?”
“Sorry, I was a little busy,” Chloe said, which was a lie. She just didn’t want the situation to escalate.
“Oh, I see.” The awkward silence stretched for a couple of minutes, with both women fiddling with their hands. Chloe tried to open her mouth to say something, but the words fell short. It was incredibly uncomfortable, and Chloe immediately wished she were anywhere but here.
“So…” Chloe started, “What does the will look like?”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Zoe stood up sharply, eyes boring into her skin like daggers. “Our father just passed away, and all you do is ask about the damn will ?”
Shit, Chloe thought. “No, that’s not what I meant to say—”
“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe that you were too busy to pick up?”
“Okay, Zoe, some people have work!”
“I called you twelve times,” she said, voice hard. “Twelve times, and you didn’t think to pick up? That’s so insensitive!”
“Why are you giving me so much flak about this?” Chloe yelled. “Have you called Audrey twelve times to tell her her husband just died?”
Zoe bit her lip. “We both know what Audrey is like.”
“So? What gives you the excuse to call me twelve times? ”
“You're my sister, for Christ’s sake, and I know that you loved Dad! I know you cared about him!”
Chloe furrowed her eyebrows incredulously. “You don’t know jack shit about our relationship! What gives you the right to try and drag me to this funeral? I should be allowed a choice!”
Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but Chloe prodded on. “Maybe Dad treated you right, as he should, but he never treated me the way I wanted him to. Andre coddled me, spoiled me, but he never gave me any of his time or love. Why? His favorite excuse: He was too busy working ! Bullshit.”
“He loved you, Chloe, and you know it!”
“Tell that to my butler, and he would give you a different answer,” Chloe sneered.
“Why are you adamant about leaving us behind like we are nothing to you?” Zoe shouted, her face shrouded with anger.
“BECAUSE I FEEL GUILTY!” Chloe screamed.
Both women huffed, forcing the emotion out of their diaphragms.
“I…I just want to move on.” Chloe rasped. “Walk away. Forget everything that happened, and pretend like we are all strangers. Is that too much to ask?”
A tense silence stretched between the two women, with only the crunch of leaves and the howl of the wind sounding. Zoe looked down at her feet, fists white, tears blurring her vision. “I’m sorry, Chloe,” she said, breath quickening. “I’ve been trying to reach out to you, ask you how you are. I was hoping, wondering, waiting for you to pick up, and tell me that—”
She dropped to the ground and curled into a ball. Chloe noticed her whole body shaking. “I missed you,” she admitted through sobs. “I missed you so much, Chloe, and that’s what I should have said sooner.”
Chloe’s throat was thick with emotion. Don’t cry, Chloe thought. She’s nothing to you now. We need to walk away, so we can get closure—
But she didn’t walk away. Instead, she crouched by Zoe, putting a hand to her shoulder. “I’m sorry!” Zoe choked. “I’m sorry I annoyed you, I’m sorry I dragged you here! I didn’t know you didn’t like Dad much—”
“Stop talking,” Chloe said, voice shaky. “Did you mean what you said? About missing me?”
“Of course!” Zoe cried. “Ever since you left, I felt a hole in my heart that never went away. It hasn’t been the same since you left.”
“Why would you miss me?” Chloe said, throat bobbling. “I’ve been a monster to you. I bullied you at school. I made fun of your appearance. I made homophobic jokes and played awful, demeaning pranks.”
Zoe looked at her curiously. Chloe continued, a tear streaming down her cheek. “I ruined your chances at art school, Zoe,” she said with emphasis. “Remember those trashed paintings? That was all me.”
“Of course,” Zoe said. “Even now, I still can’t believe you did that to me. You knew I wanted to go.”
Chloe said nothing. “But,” Zoe continued, “Maybe it was just meant to be. And what’s done is done.”
“But you were an amazing artist, Zoe. And an even better person. I just…ruin things, and you don’t deserve to have me involved in your life—”
“Stop,” Zoe said firmly. “First, you're not a monster. You think you're the only one who has done terrible things? There are other people out there who commit actual crimes and kill people.”
Chloe chuckled sadly. “I could be put in jail for some of the things I have done.”
“That’s not the point. Second, who are you to decide who I keep in my life? That’s not something you can control.”
Chloe deadpanned. “What do you mean? I can ignore you if I want to—”
“Do you want to?”
A pause.
“I love you, Chloe. You're my sister. However, I will respect your decision if you want me to never contact you again.”
Chloe thought about it. She knew she didn’t deserve anything nice, and told herself constantly to guard her heart. Love was a futile emotion that took up too much room for success, drive, and determination.
But, she thought, tears welling up once more, It feels nice to have someone. Someone to talk to, someone to take me to my house, and comb my hair back as I throw up. Someone to wave to. Someone to tell me that I matter.
Someone.
Chloe shook her head, dazed. It hit her that she had been lying to herself this entire time, and it only took eight years to realize it.
“No,” she said, voice broken. “No, I don’t want to ignore you. Because I missed you, too.”
Zoe’s eyes prickled with more tears. “Good.” Then, she hugged Chloe tightly. Chloe returned the embrace, clinging to her like she was stranded at sea, with only her sister to hold on to. It was a silent moment: wet patches formed on both their shoulders, and their eyes became red and puffy from their salt tears. Chloe caught a whiff of Zoe’s scent as she buried her face into the crook of her neck. Mint, she thought. It felt weird to get so close to someone where you could smell remnants, but it felt like a calm after the storm of bearing your heart.
And she was about to do it again. “Zoe?” Chloe said, voice wavering as she unbound herself from the embrace. Zoe pulled away, looking at her with brief questioning. “I’m sorry about everything I have done to hurt you. I can’t demand that you forgive me, and I still have a long way to go. But I’m willing to make an effort and show that I can be the older sister you want me to be. That is,” Chloe continued, “If you still want me in your life.”
Zoe thought about it. Then, she said, “I don’t need you to become my dream version of an older sister. But, I do appreciate the sentiment.”
Chloe’s face fell. “Then, what do you want?”
Zoe smiled. “For you to be there with me. Through the good and the bad. Does that seem like enough?”
Chloe’s face softened. “Yeah.”
Zoe pulled her back into another embrace. Chloe sat in shock, taken aback by the sudden action, but wrapped her arms around Zoe. “I love you,” she whispered to the wind. She then closed her eyes and took in the unknown feeling that was called love.
Their father’s tombstone watched the scene unfold, finally at peace.