Picasso's Promise

Episode 10| Death Holds Secrets

Aiko was in my bedroom. I dreamt about this day and it always ended in murder.

That wasn't to say I would be the one doing the killing. Quite the opposite. The dream typically started with me returning to my old room in father's house and ended with a knife in my back, choking up blood as my stepmother sips on a cocktail.

Today was nothing like that nightmare. Aiko sat on the edge of my bed with her hands on her lap, twiddling her thumbs nervously and dressed in designer clothes. The light coming in from the window behind her gave a glossy look to her silk sequent jacket, expelling a reflecting pattern of hexagons against my walls that moved with her body.

"You look very pretty to-"

"What are you doing here?" I asked Aiko. I ditched the hello entirely and didn't let her finish whatever bullshit compliment she was pulling out of her ass. I wasn't in the mood for cordial greetings and fake happiness to see her, sitting on my bed. She was the reason I was here, spending my senior year with strangers than in the comfort of my own home. The place father would've intended for me to graduate was miles from where I really was attending school.

She coughed a breath, holding a hand to her cheek with a slight smile emerging on her thin lips. "It's nice to see you, too, Sydney."

Aiko had a nasally voice, one that sounded as though her nose was constantly stuffed. Many thought she was forever trapped in a state of being sick. I almost forgot how she used to sound until she spoke just then.

"Cut the crap. You're happy I'm not in your business." I spat. "Answer me. Why are you here of all places? You didn't call to tell me you'd be here."

"I wanted it to be a surprised."

"I don't need a surprised from you," I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. I stayed near the entrance of my room. There was no way I'd get any closer to her. If I did, I was worried I'd begin to lunge at her with all of my might. To her feet, there were boxes closed with duct tape. "What's that?"

"It's the reason I drove here."

"You couldn't slap a post stamp on it and mail it to me instead?" I inquired bitterly. "For your own sake, you should've."

"I wanted to see you."

"Oh, really? That makes one of us." I forced an airy breath. "Before today, I didn't think of wanting to see you. The feeling isn't mutual. You don't care about me so why should I care about seeing you?"

"I do care," she assured. "I knew you'd have a better experience with family."

"Wasn't I your step-daughter? Was I not your family?" I croaked. "You thought that I would be better off with people I didn't know until I arrived? Actually, I don't want to fucking hear it. I'm done, Aiko. Dad never saw through your façade of kindness, and sadly I didn't either until it was too late. If that's all you wanted to do, drop off some old boxes, then you can leave now. You know where the front door is."

Aiko swung her cream-colored Birkin bag off the bed and back on to her arm, hauling it with her as she came to her feet. "I want you to know that I loved your father. There wasn't ever a façade. The person you saw was always me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," I boomed. "What's in the boxes anyway?"

"It's best if you see for yourself," she retorted while she walked to the mouth of the room, gripping the strap of her purse so hard that her knuckles whitened. Aiko was a fairly tan Japanese woman, but her hands were always paler than her face. It was a fake tan, if you're wondering, giving her a Cheeto look rather than a sun-kissed honey complexion.