Scene 1, Act 2
A Morning to Remember
Breathing is even, level with the pace of a slow beating heart.
...what?!
Awoken suddenly, sitting upright, panting for breath at the sudden urgent desire to breath, he looked about, dizzy from the sudden sitting upright motion and the realization of his current surroundings.
Home.
Yes. This is his room, this is his home.
Looking down at himself, pulling his shirt up. A body intact, arms freely moving.
What the hell sort of dream was that?!
Confusion.
Still panicked and pushing off the covers, he rushes for the door and opens it.
All is quiet.
Moving to his sister's bedroom door, he puts an ear against it. Barely audible is her level breathing.
Breathing, yes, she's okay!
A savage thirst assaults him, even as trace memories of a taste that lingers still in his mouth.
Deciding the need for water as paramount, he finds his way downstairs. Looking about wearily, not sure what to expect, in short order he pads into the kitchen and over to a cabinet, pulling out a glass.
One last look around reveals nothing out of the ordinary, but it slightly heightens his suspicions; not quite trusting that which is around him. Even in this state, his thirst is a different matter entirely.
Water.
Sweet, sweet water pours into the glass from the faucet. A drink or two later, he turns to lean up against the counter, relaxing somewhat.
A sudden movement in the kitchen makes him jump and much to his annoyance, he finds his erratic mother, peering at him with sleepy eyes,
"You're up early, Chrissy."
She walks over to the fridge and pulls a carton of milk, without a second thought she takes a drink straight from the carton.
This annoys him,
"If you want, I could offer you a glass you know."
She looks at him, slightly confused,
"Why? It's not like I have a venereal disease." He pales at bit at this, as she giggles at his discomfort.
"Soooo… did you have fun last night?" Giving one of her all too knowing looks.
Confusion, yet again.
"Wha—, uh… No?"
She pouts slightly, "Come on, Christopher. You're twenty-one years old, it's not like you're a high schooler anymore."
Sighing, he rolls his eyes, taking another drink to clear the lingering taste of...
…what? Why can't I explain this taste in my mouth??
She pffts at him,
"Fine, don't tell me… At least she's dishy."
Blood suddenly takes on a frozen quality, like being found at the zenith of K12.
How he managed to keep a half full glass of water from falling shall remain a mystery, even as he turned to face his mother, stammering,
"D-Dishy?! What do you mean by dishy?!"
In a failed attempt at keeping his tone calm, his voice turns to one part high pitched squeak and two parts 'suspected of hiding something'.
This eggs her on, even as she maintains her rather sans innocent stare.
"Oh? You know, the lovely woman that brought you home after a hard night of drinking."
Drinking?
Christopher's eyes turned to look at the half empty glass, realizing that lingering taste has only become stronger.
Honey?
"You really need to be more careful, Chrissy. Cinnamon schnapps is viciously deceptive."
An involuntary twitch, and gravity did the rest.
Yet, with reflexes that should not have come from a human being, Chrissy somehow managed to catch it mid free fall.
His erratic mother only lofts a brow, as she watches her would-be son,
"Cinnamon... schnapps... huh?"
"Yes, Chrissy... you know that lovely spice you so enjoy and the stuff you happened to be drinking. You positively reeked of it."
Still watching, as she finished talking, his mother took another swig of milk.
Honey and cinnamon...
Slowly, he placed the glass on the counter behind him.
This couldn't be right, but the look his erratic mother gave him was indisputable.
"W-Wh—"
Good thing he longer had glass in hand, for at that moment, Ms. Honey and Favorite Spice rounded the corner.
Wearing one of his shirts, that just happened to be an old button up from his high school days.
The audacity of her to look appropriately bedraggled and sleepy eyed.
The kitchen island in front of him, provide for proper support.
As if the most natural thing in the world had just occurred, his mother breaks into a warm smile,
"Goooooood mornin', Maricella! Hope the guest bedroom was to your liking."
Maricella offered her a very bemused and tired looking smile,
"Oh my, yes. Thank you for letting me stay the night; I don't know how Christopher and I managed to get home as tipsy as we were."
"No problem! I'm just glad he's managed to relax after all these years of being nothing, but 'striving for excellence'."
Staring unbelieving eyes pierced her right at that moment.
She is here!
The woman who hovered over one.
Wearing my old button up!
The woman who offered one a choice.
In my house… In my house!!
The woman who's blood was offered to keep one from dying.
Of all the sound observations, of the most logical of replies, only the most ludicrous and obvious spilled from his lips,
"You're wearing my shirt!?"
A smile, and a look down at herself,
"Really?"
As she extended her arms to the side, stopped just shy of the glorious 90 degree angle, with elbows slightly tucked into the center and palms facing upward, she had just performed the illusive 'W'.
Masterful, and devastating cute, she then added the nefarious 'give off coyness, by giving a half turn to the left and then to the right'. Ah, if only she had just stopped there, but vindictiveness is but a spice and so Maricella gave him the most innocent looks while dropping an M19 landmine in the form of a question,
"Do I not look good in it, Christopher?"
Blink.
Addled, the poor male's brain was completely derailed,
"Uh… t-t-th-that's not the p-p-point here! W-w-why are you sleeping in my clo—"
Curse this voice for stammering!
"Geeeez, will you put a lid on it, Chrissy. There are some of us that like to sleep in on a Saturday."
Another player has been added to this twisted game they played. Christopher jumped as his sister, if truth be known his half-sister, Sapphire made her way over to her mother, taking the milk and drinking from the carton as well.
Ah to spur the isms of the perfectionist with hint of predefined obsessive compulsive, specifically for the current action being performed by this sister. A sudden fire was lit under Christopher, which in turn thrust him to new heights!
"Does anyone in this household know how to use a cup?!"
Sapphire, deflecting the irate question, offer Christopher a very stern look,
"You've been keeping secrets, Christopher J."
Christopher J.
If a single word and letter could quickly dampen his raging fire, better than the mass application of cold water, this was it.
Which also gave him pause, because this meant she was seriously pissed off.
"You never told us you had such a beautiful…" with one hand still holding the carton, she managed to put some quotes in the air, "…friend."
Christopher, a man of high intelligence and fond of the thought that he was beyond the reach of his more base instincts, could not deny the feeling of urgency such instincts were screeching in his direction. His next statement had best be one that appeased that silently smoldering sister of his or the whole point of last night's saving would be rendered moot.
"She isn't my friend! I ju—" The look both his sister and mother gave him, suddenly made him realize what he was saying, "…what I mean is, she's uh… well… she's…"
"What he's trying to say is that we are acquainted, we've met several times at the job agency and last night Christopher and I were celebrating the possibility of a new job offer."
Christopher nodded very enthusiastically, "Proprio così!"
"Whatever, point is…" Sapphire pointed at him with the carton of milk, "…you kept this from me!"
"Listen, Sapph, it's not like that. We honestly spoke in length just last night. I swear it."
"It's true, little sis. Christopher was rather manly when he made his move and invited me to have a drink with him."
Mollified, there was a stay of execution for the time being. Yet, such oversight could not be left unpunished. So with a smile, she offered the carton of milk to Maricella.
With a smirk, she took that carton and gave it a swig. Sapphire gave her brother an impish grin, since now the poor carton of milk was sullied by everyone in the household, save him.
Resigned, he looked up to the ceiling as a sigh escaped his lips,
"…I give up."
This brought a laugh out of Sapphire, which made their mother laugh and so infectious was their combined laughter that even Maricella joined in on the fun. He couldn't help it; they were all laughing so hard that it even started to bubble from within his own body. This bubble then burst in full-fledged laughter.
Though the morning left him with more questions and zero answers, he was glad about one thing.
The lioness has a sense of humor.