Chapter 4: A Hundred Children and a Thousand Grandchildren

Chapter 4:  A Hundred Children and a Thousand Grandchildren

For a while there was nothing I wanted more than to just let things stay as they were.  The happy, sleeping face of my youngest sister drooling onto my shirt was enough to quiet the constant flow of bitter thoughts.  For a while I could even imagine that, in total, I made my family happier for being here.  Occasional fights or full moons aside, I made them happy, right?  Tera buries her head further into my chest, causing me to grit my teeth in discomfort.  Whatever minor pain it caused me, it was a happy distraction from my night.  It's almost enough of a distraction to let me fall asleep.  Or perhaps it would have been, had I managed to do so before the call for breakfast came up the stairs.  Once again I'm left clutching a sore, wounded chest, now coated in saliva, as my little sister bounds off of me like a pool springboard.

Breakfast is quiet to the point of discomfort.  Mom, dad, and Vee all either heard part of what happened or else recognized the atmosphere.  Cara, who most likely overheard all of that, still seems too pleased that the entire family is in one room to mind.  Tera is the only one who seems completely unaffected.  Even Evette has a clear frown on her face, despite attempting to look like she doesn't care about what's going on around her.

I try to avoid turning my head as I subtly survey the damage.  To my right, Safi is staring down at her food.  Her expression is blocked by her hair, but the way she furtively picks at her eggs for a while between bites says more than words.  To my left, past Evette, Sister has almost the exact opposite response.  Lythalia is angrily trying to get as much food down her throat as she can, probably so that she can leave earlier.  Her half-open eyes surrounded by shadows tells me that she got as much sleep as I did.

Dad seems consigned to a stiff, uncomfortable breakfast.  Mom, on the other hand, continuously tries to spark conversation throughout the meal.
"So Lythalia, I saw that your chrysanthemums have started to bloom.  They're quite lovely."
"Yeah."
A minute passes.
"So Safiya, you aren't wearing your bracelets today?"
She shakes her head slightly.  Another minute passes.
"So Vinata, didn't you have that group assignment with that boy in History?  What was he like?"
"A jackass."  Vee punctuates the statement by skewering a biscuit with her fork.
It takes around ten minutes more of this before we start finishing up.  At that point even Tera has figured out that something is wrong, but she doesn't have any idea what to do about it.  She simply looks from one person to another, trying to piece together what's happening.

That's the point where I leave.  I doubt anyone needs an explanation; they know where I go, and they know I'll be back later.  I stop only to grab a half-dozen cans of tuna from my room.  The sooner I'm gone the sooner things will get back to normal and the sooner Tera will forget that anything had bothered her in the first place.  Once I've gotten out of the house I start to type.

shackleborn > hey
shackleborn > you up yet?
shackleborn > dont make me go over there
greenmachine > o hey didnt recognize ur new name
greenmachine > p cool tho
shackleborn > its a story
greenmachine > sup
shackleborn > you doing anything?
greenmachine > not til monday
shackleborn > you fucking sleep like the dead
greenmachine > ugh dude
greenmachine > UGH
shackleborn > my bad
shackleborn > i require erudite discourse
greenmachine > english man
shackleborn > chats, i need em
shackleborn > all of em
greenmachine > then wat r u doin over there

I was already walking to her house when she gave me the green light (I spare a single, dry laugh at my own joke), but we both already knew that.  She also probably knew why I was heading over, or at least could guess.  She has a much smaller house than mine, which makes sense considering that it's for a family of four.  I sometimes wonder what it's like to have one sibling - or none, like some of the guys.  It just feels weird to think about.  I don't know if I feel bad for them or envy them.

I knock on the front door as my phone buzzes.  I pull it back out of my pocket to see:
greenmachine > o hey dont use the front doo fuck
Dammit.  I guess this means that-
The door swings open, revealing a half-naked, brown-skinned Ghoul rubbing the sand from her eyes with her crimson hands.  She angrily blurts out, "the hell d'you-," before she recognizes me.
"Hey."
The biggest shit-eating grin spreads across her face.
"Hey yourself.  You know, Jen is up with some of our folks for the weekend, but I bet that I-" I step around her and walk in.  There's only a feeble, confused shout of protest before I make it to the door I'm looking for.  It's already half-open, so I slip inside.

"Now, if you know that I'm gonna have to deal with that, the least you could do is walk over to the front door."  I realize about halfway through the sentence that I don't sound angry at all.  It's not until the end that I realize that it's because I'm not.  I can't really get angry at Jen.  She doesn't set any expectations, so she can't really break them.  The mop of silvery hair puffs outward slightly as she speaks through it, "what, and miss the show?"  A red hand pulls itself out of the massive XXXL t-shirt she sleeps in to pull her hair away and stare sleepily at me.  I always found it kind of hard to figure out where she's looking at any given moment, since her violet eyes don't have any pupils.  Or at least I did, back before she became my oldest friend.

Jen stares for a moment.  "Mornin'."
"Yeah."  I walk over, drop the tuna, and drop myself onto the floor on the side of her bed.  I don't need to say anymore.  We've been friends for something like five years now.  Long enough to develop the kind of pseudo-telepathy gained by knowing what the other is thinking most of the time.

The same hand reaches over the side of the bed.  "(Hey, give me your hand.)"
I pass my hand up to it, which she pulls up and over my shoulder.  "Really, it's just the same shit (I think I'm probably responsible for making my entire family miserable)."
For a second there's nothing, before a hot, slimy feeling envelops my hand.  "I hihuregh (I knew that when you texted me, dumbass)."
"Sister got all pissy with me over that thing with the Nekomata (Lythalia thinks that I'm being unreasonable by not having sex with a random mamono that I didn't know, and who randomly tried to rape me for unknowingly courting her)."
The slimy feeling grows to include the entirety of my hand as Jen fully opens her mouth to swallow it.  "Hnrm (That sounds like her)."
"She's never gotten angry before, though."
At that Jen stops, and I'm given a break from having my hand checked for any flavors that it didn't have last time.  There's a feeling of cool air as she asks, "You actually got into a fight (and not one of your stupid debates)?"
I crane my neck and look over the edge of the mattress, toward those empty eyes.  "Yeah."
"Well, that explains it ('it' being why you came here).  So, what's your plan (how do you intend to pass the time until this blows over)?"
I give a noncommittal grunt.  It doesn't actually convey anything.

For a while she simply pops my hand back into her mouth and sucks on it.  It's kind of an odd sensation.  At first I hated it.  I was left feeling sticky and uncomfortable afterward, and I hated that.  Now, though, it's just something that happens.  I suppose I don't really dislike it any less, but that I've stopped paying attention to my own dislike.  After a few minutes she starts to work her way to the side of my hand, gradually heading toward the wrist.  It always seems like there's some sort of pattern that she's following, though she insists that it just helps her to relax.

"Hey."  I don't think it would influence me at all, but I at least want to know.
"Hnrnm?"
"What would you do (if you actually gave a damn)?"
For a moment it seems like she's going to try to answer without first spitting out my wrist.  She eventually decides against that, and once again cool air runs over my hand.  "I'd do what I want to do."  And with that, she returns to her "meal."
I've already figured that much out, but I still let her have a moment to think that I'm considering her wisdom.  "I'm already trying to do that.  It's the 'how' that's giving me trouble."
She let's out a long sigh that tickles the hairs on my lower arm.  "Heah, heah, haye owh (yeah yeah, same old list.  You can't juggle staying free, keeping your soul, and making your sisters happy.  I know)."
"Well, any ideas for that?"

For a while she's completely silent, save the standard noises of chewing on someone's arm.  For a moment I wonder at the fact that that has become background noise to me.  I turn back to look at her and see that she's still halfheartedly holding it in her mouth with a concerned expression.  She notices me looking at her and immediately smiles and spits out my arm.  "Well, you could always stay here tomorrow night," she offers.

I stare at her, completely blind-sided.  "Hey," she mock-frowns, "you're the one who brought me a present."  My brain takes a minute to restart, then to figure out what she's talking about.  I grab the bag with my free hand and lift it up.  "I'm just dropping this off on the way back.  It's tuna."
The biggest shit-eating grin spreads across her face.
"Cat fucker."

It's three hours later when the random trains of conversation finally run their course and she finishes working her way up to my shoulder.  By now my entire arm is a sticky mess and my body has that dull, tired feeling from sleeplessness.  Still, somewhere along the way I stopped feeling stressed out or worried.  It's the same comfortable tiredness that always brings me here.  Or maybe I just like having someone who'll listen to the same rant a dozen times.  She doesn't seem to mind that I haven't made any headway in figuring out what I'm going to do, at least.  At this point I'm so tired and relaxed that even getting up seems like a chore that I could just put off for a while.

It's then that the door opens to reveal a woman strikingly similar to Jen in appearance, if Jen was ten inches taller and had breast implants.  "Jennifer, how many-," she begins.  She stares - mouth still open - at the two of us.
"Hello, Misses Green."
"Hey mom."
The biggest shit-eating grin spreads across her face.
"So when can I expect my grandchildren?"
"We're not-"
"He's shooting blanks."
I close my eyes tightly.
"You know, if you want me to go you could just ask."

---

The lawn is clear when I go looking for that Nekomata.  I spend a few minutes looking around to see if she's anywhere nearby, but there could be any number of things in the tall grass.  I try not to laugh at my own outdated MiniMon reference and walk down the barely-visible path that leads to the front door of the abandoned house.  I figure here it'll go unnoticed until that girl finds it.  There's a kind of patio on the front that I start to set it down on, before I hear the sounds of movement inside.  For a moment I simply stand there, wondering if this isn't actually her house.  Could it be?  It seems so decrepit.  For a much longer moment I wonder if I should knock on the door and find out.  I don't have to.

The front door opens and the girl jumps back with a start.  A few seconds pass where we simply stare, dumbfounded at each other.  She's the first to break the silence.  She draws herself back up to her full height and imperiously states, "Hey, don't just stand at someone's house.  It's rude."
For a second I consider making a joke about how impressive it is that she can look down on me and up at me simultaneously.  I don't.
"Like you have the right to tell anyone about acting polite."
She scowls at me before lifting her head even further, "You're the one who struck a lady.  I won't hear this sort of abuse, especially not in my own home."
It was then that I looked over and around her, into the darkness of her house.  The windows looked like they had been completely covered up, so I could only see a half-dozen feet in.  Still, I managed to spot dust, dirt, and a few broken floorboards.  When I look back to the girl she's already turned away, trying to avoid looking me in the eyes.  Her face is red, too.  Is it shame?  I decide to finish this as quickly as I can and leave.

"Here," I say, offering her the bag.  She looks back at it, then to me.  Her face is still red with some sort of embarrassment.  She finally reaches out and takes it, muttering something as she does.  That's enough for me.  I turn and start to make my way home when a soft paw grasps my wrist.  I turn to look at her, and find her face hidden under her hair as she stares at the floor.
"Hey."
"What?"  I cringe inwardly at how harsh and bitter the word sounds.
"Would- do you-," she starts, breathing more quickly now.  Finally, she lifts her head to face me and resolutely asks, "Do you know how to fix things?"
I could just say no.  I could tell her I don't and be on my way.  I even consider not answering at all and just running home at full sprint.  I'm done here, aren't I?  She's a crazy woman who pretended to be a cat for a while.  Hells, she isn't even Mittens.  Not anymore, anyway.
"Yeah."

She lets go of my wrist and heads back inside.  "This way," her voice calls out from the dark building.  I almost don't.  She's probably staying here illegally, and I've never- well, no, that's not true.  This would just be my second time trespassing.  I step into the shadows and head toward where I heard the voice.  It would take a while for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but fortunately I don't need them to.  I brighten the lantern slightly and find my way to a weathered old couch sitting in the corner of an otherwise completely empty room.  It's not long before I hear the patter of pawed feet and the creaking of old wood being forced to bear weight.  She walks into the room cradling something bright orange in her white, fluffy hands.

She hands me a small portable radio and sits much too closely next to me.  "The batteries are new," she begins.  Honestly, it helps.  This thing looks like it's older than her.  I hold the light up to it, only to realize that I'm being dumb in a number of different ways.  As its stand starts to form and lengthen beneath my lantern I turn and tell her "I'm going to need a screwdriver."  She stares at me, then at the iron rod now forming under my lantern, then back.  She blinks a few times, then nods.  "Right, sorry, I have some."  With that she once again hops up and strides out of the room.  There's something about the way she talks that makes it sound like she's talking down to me.  It's like how Evette carries herself, only less forced.  Like she simply knows that she's better than me, but isn't trying to imply it.  It's kind of irksome.

She walks back into the room clutching a plastic case which she plops open on her lap as she sits back down.  It's awkward, but fine.  I grab the smallest flathead I see and open it up.  I can't help but notice her expression in the flickering light, like she's watching a surgery being performed.  She's so concerned that you'd think this thing was her oldest friend.  I hurry to find the various connectors leading from the battery, in part so that I don't have to consider whether or not it actually is.

"I've spent a lot of my life with a Wurm, so I've put together more than a few VCR's, computers, or whatever else she decided she was smart or old enough to handle on her own."  Even though the lack of conversation is kind of awkward I probably wouldn't normally talk about myself like this.  Still, the way she's frowning down on the mess of wires and boards makes me want to distract her.  It doesn't help much, but at least I get a nod of recognition that I'm talking.  "I'm betting it just got jostled around a bit and something came loose."

I wasn't wrong by much.  It seems one of the old connectors leading out from the power button was spring-based, and the old metal lost its springiness over the years.  I take one of the tiny screws out of the box on her lap and set it in the center of the spring, so that it forces it a half a centimeter further up.  Sure enough, when I hit the power button now it depresses the switch and the old speakers crackle to life.

"Ah!"  I turn to look at the girl next to me, whose tails have shot straight upward and is now eying the bundle of plastic in my lap with pure relief.  I turn back, sigh, and set myself to putting it back together.  It's a simple life skill, but I suppose it's worth it for the-
"I knew I chose well," she states proudly.  There's a thump as her weight falls on my side, following by a low rumbling sound.  "Kind, powerful, and competent.  I knew I chose well."  After repeating herself she begins to bury her face against my arm, rubbing her cheek against it repeatedly.  I pull away.
"Hey, I'm just fixing this thing, then I'm on my way."  She immediately stops and stares up at me, visibly flushed.  Her brow is scrunched inward and her lips are pursed.  She holds that for a minute, considering me as I try to rush putting the casing back together.

"That's not fair."  It's a simple statement, but I'm still confused.  I turn and stare incredulously at her.  "It's not," she repeats.  "You came here, showed off how nice you were, are showcasing how much spirit energy you have, and now you just walk away?"  She shakes her head before insisting, "It's not fair."
I need to nip this in the bud.  "When- what?  I'm not 'showcasing' anything!"
She points a clawed finger at my lantern as she rises to her knees on the old couch, "You're not just doing that, you're burning it as fuel!  You're like- like a-," she thinks for a moment, "you're like an oil platform!"
The comparison catches me completely off guard.  I start laughing at her a few seconds before I even understand the reference.  "That's not," I try to think of what to say next.  I know I've explained this a dozen times before, but I'm too busy laughing to find the words.
She smiles with me before poking me in the ribs.  "You're showing off and you know it."  And once again she slumps against me, and I hear and feel what I now recognize as purring from her chest.

"No."  I stop laughing, drop the radio on the sofa and stand up, detaching myself from her grip.  I know where this is going.  Dammit.  I'm doing it again.  "You're wrong."  I can hear that the purring has stopped.  "This isn't mine," I say, rattling the chains that drag my lantern up to my hand, "it's just some stupid curse from some asshole mage that killed my mother.  I'm not showing off and I'm not anyone's husband."  I start heading out the door, "I'm not who you're looking for, Mittens."  There, that should do it.

"Rina."  I hear the footfalls as she follows me.  "My name is Rina."  I'm out the door, into the relatively blinding sunlight.  I hear a loud clank, coming from the pedestal I'd formed for my lantern and forgotten to remove.  I don't bother stopping as it starts to pull back in.  "And you're Val."

I stop.
I turn.
"How do you know that?"
"I followed you once."  She's serious now.  Her face is expressionless, her hands are balled into fists, and her eyes are meeting my own.  "I saw you with your family.  You smiled at them all the time, and laughed, and rubbed their heads, and gave them things.  Then you went to your room and you stopped acting."  Her expression slowly shifts into something like a scowl, but somehow somber.  "You paced, and you stopped, and you paced again.  You bit off your nails and pulled your hair.  Then you fell onto your bed and stared at the ceiling like you wanted it dead."  She's staring at the ground around my feet as she finishes, "And then that wolfgirl walked in, and all the smiles and laughter came back like they'd been there all along."

Great.  I have a stalker. I have a damn stalker, and she's some stray, foreign, crazy, homeless cat.  I have the phone in my pocket, I could probably call her in as a feral.  It'd take a while for them to figure it out, and then they'd send her back to her home.  No one would blame me since I can just say it was an honest mistake.  I can have her out of my life in a heartbeat.

Why in the hells do I never do any of these things?  Am I an idiot?  I know that it will make my problem go away.  It's for her, too.  She shouldn't be alone.  She should be with her family.

"I could make you happy."
"Don't follow me again."

That won't be enough.  She's a mamono.  Still, it's enough for now.  I head back to my house.

---

A pair of furry claws are wrapped around my arm as I sit back in one of the chairs.  There's something dry and uninteresting on the television.  It's only on so that I can try to prevent conversations.  Sometimes it works.
I'm finally forced to turn toward the girl holding my arm and vigorously burying her face into it.  "Why are you doing that?"
Cara turns up to look at me, "I'm trying to get the scent off of you."  She wastes no time in returning to her work.
"I already took a shower."
"Not enough."
"Isn't this just going to replace her scent with yours?"
At this she turns back up to me, frowning, "That's important!"
I don't bother refuting that.

I try to clear my head and just focus on whatever stupid bullshit is airing at three P.M. but it just isn't happening.  Cara finally finishes rubbing against my elbow and curls up next to me on the chair.  She lets out a long, high pitched yawn and seems to start falling asleep, like she usually does.
"Hey."
"Mmm?"
I know it's somewhat pointless to ask, but I'm curious.  "What do you want to do?"
"You mean, like, for a career?"
I think about this for a moment.  "Sure."
She immediately looks up at me with a grin and shouts, "I wanna be a doctor!"  It's so fast and so easy.  She just says it without a moment of hesitation or thought.  I'm kind of shocked.
"You know, that takes a lot of studying.  A lot of work."
Her smile starts fading as she begins to drift off to sleep cradled against my arm.  "I know, but I wanna do it.  I wanna help people."

With that she finally slips off to sleep, effectively pinning me to the couch.  Her head is nestled into my shoulder now.  The surprise takes a while to wear off.  Once it does, though, I smile, I laugh, and I rub her head.  There's nothing fake about those gestures.  I'm not faking this feeling.

---

I scratch my arm to try to lessen the furious prickling sensation of nerves waking back up.  "Well, I think that might've been better than last time."  It's not really a lie, I think it was somewhat less painful this time around.  I think Evette knows what I'm doing, though.  At least, she doesn't seem any happier.
"Thank you for your time, dear brother."  It's fast and curt, but earnest.
"Hey."
She stops and looks back toward me.  I know that this is even more pointless, but I kind of want to know.  Maybe it'll help me out somehow.  "What do you want to do?"
She tilts her head slightly, "You mean with my unlife?"
"Yeah."
She turns back to fully face me and takes a deep breath.  I hate it when she does that.  She never actually needs to breathe, so it's only ever just to get enough air to give a long-winded explanation.  "I intend to spend a wonderful eternity in the highest echelons of society, guiding the masses through example of class and style."  She pauses for another breath.  "Of course, for that I will need a husband, who will also need to be of noble bearing and deportment."
"Huh.  I guess that's what I figured."  It's weird, though.  It feels like she's hiding something.  Or maybe she hasn't actually told me anything at all, but is just playing at nobility again.

"Could it be that you wish to join me in eternal night?"  I look back to her face.  She's raised an eyebrow and is smiling down at me.
The answer comes quickly, and I fill it with as much obvious discomfort as I can.  "No."
The smile fades.  In its place she simply looks at me appraisingly.  "I see.  Pray tell, then, what is it that you wish to do with your brief existence?"
Touche.  "Not sure yet."  That's true enough.  I know she'll just look down on the answer, though.
Sure enough, she lifts her head slightly higher and gazes imperiously down on me.  "How sad.  To live for such a short time, already a fraction of your life come and gone, and yet to still be directionless."  She waits for a moment, seeing if I'll say anything more.  I don't particularly want to.  She still hesitates before leaving.  "There's no need for you to die, you know.  Though there are not as many undead as there once were, we are still here.  You could spend eternity with any one of us."

I'm forced to remember when I was much younger, when she was going through the period when she first realized that she'd outlive all of her friends and family.  That was a dark time for her.  I think that was around the same time when she started hanging out with the two other Wights in the city.  I wonder, though, if that's any different than what Sister is thinking.  They're both facing a form of eternal existence without any of their family.  Regardless of what any of us do, there's no way to stay with both of them.  But then, isn't that natural?  The people you know leave, never to be seen again.

In the amount of time it takes for me to make myself truly depressed Evette has left.  I don't want to be alone with my thoughts right now.  I walk into the hallway and knock on Tera's door.  The heavy duty hinges still groan with the force of being ripped open a moment later, revealing the blindingly pink and frilly room within.  I put on a bright smile, "Hey.  It's peanut butter and ice cream time."  She's never figured out how I know when that time comes around, in spite of all her clever attempts.  I'll tell her someday, but not today.

It's not until I'm halfway through my bowl, and Tera has a truly impressive amount of ice cream on her face, that I feel like talking again.
"Hey."
She pulls her face from the bowl, along with seemingly half of its contents.  She starts cleaning herself with her tongue.  "Mmm?"
"Tera, what do you want to do when you're grown up?"
The left half of her face is still covered with ice cream and a dob of peanut butter, but I'm assuming that it turned as red as the right side.  She takes a deep breath and hides herself behind her bowl as she shouts, "That'scs a scsecret!"

That's just not fair, Tera.

---

It's late.  I know it's late, but I'm just not tired.  No, that's not it.  My eyes are burning and my brain feels like jelly.  I'm tired, I just can't sleep.  It's almost midnight when I hear a knock on the door.
"Hey Val, you awake?"  Vee's muffled by the steel and wood, and by her own whispering, but I can still make out her words so clearly.  I swings my legs over the side of the bed and limply drag myself over to the door.
"Yeah.  What is it?"
"I'm cold."
I think about this for a minute.  Even through the haze of sleeplessness I can tell that I shouldn't.  Tomorrow is the full moon.  Mamono don't have nearly as severe an effect on the nights before and after, but their hormones are still going haywire.  On the other hand, this is Vee.  Part of me wonders if I went out during the full moon if she wouldn't just ask politely and be quietly depressed if I refused.  It takes a while for all of these thoughts to form, and longer for the part of my brain responsible for thought to recognize that they're there.
"Val?"
"Yeah, sure."  It's fine.  It's probably fine.  I unlock the door and swing it open.  Her eyes are clearer than mine, but it's apparent that she's having trouble sleeping.  I nod toward the bed, "Come on."

It's better, wrapped up in coils.  More comfortable.  In a lot of ways.
"No one's mad at you."
I furrow my brow in concentration, trying to figure out where that came from and what that means.
"It's just really frustrating sometimes."
By the time I've finally caught up to her words, she's speaking again.
"So don't worry.  It's all going to be fine."
A small, soft hand is now rubbing my head.  It's weird, but I can't figure out how right now.  A terribly important question comes to mind.
"Hey."
"Hmm?"
"What do you want to do?  Like, in life?"
There's a sigh as the random head rub comes to a stop.  Her voice is tired when she answers.  "I think I'd like to have a family around this size.  Maybe a little bigger.  Nine kids seems about right."  She takes another breath and answers in a sigh, "And I'd like a nice house, with a strong and honest husband."
Even now, I kind of expected all of that.  I'm just barely awake long enough to ask, "Anything else?"
Her hand starts moving again as she idly wonders, "Maybe if we could stay together?"
The dark clouds from earlier threaten to return, but sleep comes before they can.  "Yeah," I think to myself, "it'd be nice if we could all stay together."

---

I dream about having all of my teeth fall out in the middle of my math final, and my teacher not letting me leave to go to the nurse.