The Darker Sister

From the diary of Arienne Claire Juneau:

            It’s been seven years since I was home…if I can even call River City home anymore.

            After all, the only reason I’m even allowed back in the same space is as my family is that Thierry won the election for a second time in a row, and he’s now in a position to tell Uncle JM to shut it.

            It’ll be good to see my cousin again.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be around family.  I’ve spent almost a decade living out of hotels and restaurants, always “the guest” at someone else’s dinner table.  It’s been hell.

            My tutors say my odd lifestyle has actually helped my music; Orsini swears up and down my soprano sounds purer because I’m so unhappy (whatever that means).  And Professor Willoughby says that even though I’m somewhat disconnected from the world, it doesn’t cross over when I play the piano.  I might as well believe them.  I’m a nobody, and they don’t know enough about my relatives to kiss up to them.

            I bet old JM never lets on who we really are whenever he calls them to make sure I’m eating my vegetables and keeping my knees together.

            I’m not a fool.  I know the old man doesn’t care about me.  He’s still mad my parents died and left me on his doorstep.  Grandma Claire always said he and my dad never got along, but she never said why.  To be honest, it doesn’t really matter to me at this point.  My parents have been dead for over two decades; bygones really ought to be bygones at this point.

            It’s so quiet in first class.  I should be used to that by now, but I’m not.  I always thought first class flights were supposed to be a party; people sipping champagne and listening to Mozart while some flight attendant with a French accent wanders around dressed like maid.  I don’t know where I got that impression, but it stuck.

            I’m going to miss Sicily.  And Tokyo.  And Lagos, and Nairobi, and Madrid.  I never thought I’d feel this way, but I do.  I think it’s fear.  I’ve been a nobody for so long, I don’t know what it means to be somebody.

            My cousin’s somebody.  Thierry’s Governor.  And he’s married to an heiress--an honest-to-God heiress.  He says they bought a château up north in St. Verde, and that he plans to have several dinner parties there.  I didn’t know they even had châteaux up in St. Verde!  I thought it was just some sleepy tourist spot, filled with hot springs and crawling with ivy.  I didn’t know rich people actually lived up there.

            I mean…aside for St. Verdians, who would want to live up there?

            I’ve only been there once, when I was a teenager.  Even back then it was small. I remember that it was laidback, located in a valley along on winding stream.  I remember that nearly every building was green in St. Verde; they were covered with some strange species of ivy which the locals actually encouraged to grow all over their homes and shops.  I remember its thick mists and high mountains, and how they shut out the rest of the world.

            After all these years in the press, on TV, and being hounded by reporters, I can see why Thierry would buy a house up there.  I’d want to shut out the rest of the world too.

            I wonder if his wife likes it.  Maybe she helped pick it out.  Lord knows she can afford it.  I Googled her once; apparently she’s worth ten million bucks.  Uncle JM says it explains why Thierry would marry a woman eight years his senior, “with whom he has nothing in common.”  Meanwhile, we all know the real reason JM doesn’t like her: she’s white.

            Did he even go to the wedding?  Or was Thierry smart enough not to invite him?  I can just see the old man scowling from his wheelchair at his brand, spanking new in-laws.  God, how he must hate them.

            Does Thierry like them?  Do they like him?  Do they only like him because he’s a rich and powerful politician?  Nowhere near rich as them, of course, but…I have to wonder.  I know so little about my own family!

            Dear God…how will they react when they meet me?

Author's Note

Rough draft sneak peek.