(NaNoWriMo) Lightly Treading:

WHEN have I last looked on
The round green eyes and the long wavering bodies
Of the dark leopards of the moon?
All the wild witches, those most noble ladies,
For all their broom-sticks and their tears,
Their angry tears, are gone.
The holy centaurs of the hills are vanished;
I have nothing but the embittered sun;
Banished heroic mother moon and vanished,
And now that I have come to fifty years
I must endure the timid sun.
-W.B. Yeats

 If Maeve had charged the battery of her phone, she might have known that her sister had tried to contact her several times over the past three hours. She might have known, but habit dictated that she’d never have picked up the call anyways. And so, when the doorbell rang at quarter-to-eleven in the morning, Maeve’s heart leaped into her chest and she stayed very, very still as to not betray the fact that she was even home.

 The doorbell rang another five times in quick succession before giving way to frantic knocking.  “Maeve, open the door! It’s me, you nerd.”

 There were four locks preventing her sister from inviting herself into the house. Maeve unlocked each one before cracking the door open. “Selina, why didn’t you message me?”

 “I did! You didn’t answer.” Selina leaned her head against the door frame, a temple tip of her sunglasses was tucked between her teeth before being jabbed in Maeve’s direction. “Let me in, I have a present for you!”

 Maeve obliged, but only opened the door so far before she immediately slammed it shut again.

 Her sister’s irritated scoff, though muffled, was still perfectly audible. “Oh, come on!”

 Maeve leaned all her weight against the closed door in wide-eyed terror. “W--why did you bring that thing!? Where did you get it?”

At the other side of the door, Selina Delany cast a sidelong glance to Yeats who stood stoic and silent beside her. “Look. Listen to me, Maeve. You need help. The way you’re living? It’s not acceptable. It’s not healthy. Yeats here can make it so that you never have to answer a phone or leave the house. He can get your groceries and wash your dishes. Maeve, you need this. Open the door.”

Maeve heartbeat rattled her eyeballs. “You named it Yeats? I’m not...living with something like that! Just take it back, I don’t need it!”

 Selina lowered her tone. “Open the door Maeve, or I’m going to break in through one of your windows.”

 ‘Oh, she absolutely would.’

Maeve still could not bring herself to to turn the knob, but retreated with stilted strides to sit on the couch. The rest was up to her sister.

Outside, Selina turned up to Yeats with a sloppy grin on her face. “Don’t worry, hun. You’re doing great.” She pushed open the door, and swiftly let herself in. “Come on,” she beckoned him to follow her.

Stepping into the humble home, Yeats eyes were met with a crisis. There was no table nor counter surface that wasn’t piled up with dirty dishes, food wrappers, and other strange and improbable clutter. A garbage bag was draped over the armrest of the couch and leaking some manner of slow dripping fluid onto the floor.  From where he stood, he could see crumbs and forgotten pieces of dropped food dusted across the ground, obscured only by the the large pile of stale laundry that sat in the threshold between the kitchen and the living room. His gaze dared to wander towards the kitchen sink before quickly snapping back to the pile of laundry. The state...of that sink…

 “Yeats, come sit down!” Selina patted the couch beside her.   Maeve cowered back, sinking as far into the cushions as she could. “No! It stays right there. I don’t want it here, Selina. This isn’t a present, it’s terrifying. I hate these things!”

Selina threw up her hands. “It’s a luxury item! It’s going to make your life easier. What are you even worried about?”

 Hugging her knees, Maeve replied, “I don’t know, how many times have one of these things slaughtered their owner? I even saw one on the news just the other day! They’re so dangerous. I don’t want one!”

 “So what, then?” Selina gestured to the rest of the house, “you just want to continue living like this? When’s the last time you even left the house, Maeve? If I look into your fridge right now, what am I going to find? You don’t take care of yourself. Why does it have to be my job?”

 “It’s not your job!” Maeve leaned into her argument. “No one asked you to take care of me. If my home bothers you so much, you can stop coming. Just don’t forget to take that thing with you when you leave!” She jabbed her gaze at Yeats.

 Yeats hadn’t dared to move from his fixed position in the front entrance. If not for Selina’s insistence that he stay, he’d have ducked out of sight the moment Maeve began expressing discomfort towards his very presence. The best compromise he could provide was to remain where he stood.

 After a moment of silence, Selina stood up. “You’re really that ungrateful. I spent so much money...I declined a trip to the tropics, just so I could afford to get you one of these things. I didn’t even mind. I could have been soaking up sun on a sandy white beach for two months! But you and your health were more important to me. You don’t give a shit about that, though. Do you?”  Selina’s face turned a deeper shade of red for every second that Maeve failed to produce a response...any response.  She put her sunglasses on, over her eyes, and marched towards the door. “Fine, forget it. I’m out of here.”

 Maeve reached out to her, “Wait! Selina, don’t leave me alone with it! Just take it back to GremCorps and get your money back!”

“No.” With her hand on the doorknob, Selina shot one last glare back at Maeve. “You want to return it? You go out there and do it yourself.”

Maeve blanched. “You know I can’t--!” “Bye, Maeve.” And with a slam of the door, Selina was gone.  

The silence that followed in her wake was almost thick enough to swallow. Though he avoided eye contact, Yeats could feel Maeve’s anxious gaze burning into the side of his head. There was...so much work to be done.