The Mismatched Half

Darya hurried her pace on the sidewalk, breaking into a run as she remembered her stepmother's stern warning. The latter had requested groceries, and Darya had delayed due to her shift at the mall. Her mind wasn't prepared for another intense fallout with Jessica. To make matters worse, Claudia would be arriving that day as well. Beads of perspiration dribbled down her face as she took a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a collision with a car.

Darya halted, venting her outrage on the driver with one word that suddenly gave her the upper hand. "You're crazy!"

The mall was bustling with people, and the air was filled with resounding chatter. Darya slipped into her uniform and wiped her sweaty face. Following Jessica's rebuke for her tardiness and casual courtesy with Claudia, she focused on her reality. Her stepsister was back, and all she could think of was the last time she saw her father's pale eyes and shriveled skin on his sickbed. Claudia brought back memories of a life cut short and a conflicting past.

"Darya!" Her boss's voice snapped her back to attention. She quickly assumed her position as a sales attendant, avoiding another tongue-lashing. Her cheerful demeanor left customers satisfied, each leaving with excitement over their purchases.

"I heard your sister's back," Charlie whispered behind her. He was her childhood friend, and nothing was news to him. How did he find out about it? Darya nonchalantly nodded in response.

Charlie seemed to be enjoying himself. "The last time I saw her, she was off to university with a box in hand, and now she's back," he chuckled, admiring Claudia's success within himself.

"To take over the family business," Darya thought. Initially, her mind was in turmoil, wondering what could have brought Claudia back home. Lost in her own thoughts, she momentarily forgot Charlie's presence when a slight tap on the tabletop jolted her.

"Hello! Welcome to Charlotte and Sons. How can I help you?" Darya greeted the customer, who dropped a book on the table and frowned. Darya smiled knowingly; it was her duty to make customers feel better.

"You're a fan of Tami Hoag," she said, expertly packaging the book in a brown paper bag. The man raised his eyebrows and smiled briefly. Darya's eyes trailed his suit and Oxford shoes as he sauntered out of the mall. His expensive cologne permeated the air, and Darya mused to herself. Men like that were exclusive, wealthy, and arrogant. With that thought, she shook her head and flashed a smile at the next customer.

The old mansion was bustling with workers attending to the daily activities of the household when Darya arrived home. Adjacent to the mansion was a large stretch of farmland in the yard. Darya's father preferred the countryside for its subtle atmosphere, far from the hustle and bustle of city life. Over time, Darya had developed a certain fondness for the old building. She stepped into the kitchen and warmly embraced Zaza, the old cook. Zaza had become a maternal figure to Darya after her mother died at childbirth. This was the only history Darya knew of her mother, aside from the fact that she was mulatto, with arching brows, full lips and a great head of hair. Darya took a big bite of the baked pie and munched bread crumbs on the tray which consisted of layers of home-made bread, topped with Zaza's favorite pudding. Darya wondered what the occasion was for such a feast.