Roomies

Chapter 9

Thanksgiving

Jake gazed longingly at the kitchen as he poured himself a second martini and another glass of wine for Helen. Still, they both smiled as the sounds of the Thanksgiving meal being prepared and muted kitchen conversation spilled into the living room.

The Boston crew had appeared on their doorstep laden with groceries and a turkey, having given notice two days before that the takeout orders that Helen traditionally made were to be cancelled; except for desserts.

"This is Thanksgiving," Daria had said. "You've supported me for years, so this is just a small thank you. Parental units please stay out of the kitchen; my crew requires utmost concentration if we are to survive this gastronomic experiment."

"Daria, when did you learn to cook?" Quinn asked, rinsing out bowls and pans as she and Jane loaded the dishwasher. The turkey roasting in the oven smelled fabulous.

Trent opened the oven, meat thermometer in hand. After a moment, he closed the door and turned off the oven.

"Letting it coast. It'll still cook but it'll start to cool off a bit," he explained.

"I guess when I figured out that pizza was expensive and not exactly suitable as a steady diet," she smiled. "I just experimented, but left out the extreme spices," she smirked, indicating their father with a tilt of her head. She drained a pot of boiled potatoes and laid them out on a cutting board for peeling.

"Daria and Trent do the cooking," Jane grinned. "It's very cute and domestic."

"Wasabi powder," Daria said, sotto voce, to Trent.

"Hey, there's no room in that kitchen," protested Jane.

"And no garbage disposal," smiled Trent.

"I'm talking to it," Jane returned. "C'mon, Quinn, let's do the salad. I can so make this food you speak of."

"Quinn," Daria asked, "What happened to Pepperhill?"

"I thought I wanted to go there, but then I realized that it would be too much like an extension of high school. Stacy and Sandi wound up going there, and it really sounds like a party school. They barely got in, and I'll be surprised if they make it through their freshman year. I don't know, it just felt wrong for me. My grades were better than theirs, but still weren't all that great except for last year; so I thought I'd just go to Lawndale State, save mom and dad some money and bring up my GPA. I can try for a better school later."

"Good idea; I know you can do it. Do you know what you want to major in yet?"

Quinn hesitated before answering. "Don't laugh. I'm thinking of a Pre-Law program."

"Why do you think I'd laugh? I know you can do it, sis." Daria looked straight into Quinn's eyes. "I used to think you acted like an airhead. I knew you weren't stupid, you just had to decide to apply yourself. You'll do fine."

Quinn stood there, mouth open. After a moment, she composed herself. "Thanks, sis," she said. "That means a lot to me."

Helen, following the conversation from the sofa, smiled quietly, and reached over to take Jake's hand.


"Thank you, kids, that was excellent," said Jake, leaning back in his chair. "Anyone have room for some dessert? Not as good as you'd have done, I know, but it is the best takeout apple and pumpkin pie in town."

"No thanks," Daria said quietly as Quinn offered her the bowl of whipped cream for her pie. "That stuff makes me horny."

Trent nearly choked on his forkful.

Jane smiled, and whispered, "Uncurl those toes, Monkey Girl."

"Thank you, Dr. Spielvogel," muttered Daria.

Helen laughed and reached for the bowl, spooning a generous dollop onto Daria's dessert as the two women shared a quiet smile.

Thanks, mom.

Be happy, Daria.


"Are you sure, Quinn?" Helen whispered doubtfully. "I can't believe your sister would do something like this." She looked around at the McGrundy's Pub Open Mic crowd.

"Jane said that she and Trent have been writing songs together. He taught her to play after she had that cast taken off. She's really nervous, so don't let her know we're here, okay, Dad? You too, Stacey."

"Got it, Princess. Hey, where's Jane-O?"

"Over with those guys, Trent's old bandmates. She's making sure that those goofs don't spook her. She's also got Daria's glasses; she won't be able to see anyone out here in the audience, so maybe that'll help her nerves."

"Hey, Quinn," Stacey whispered. "Isn't that Mack and Jodie over there? And that Goth chick Andrea?"

"Oh, shit. There's Upchuck, too. Stacey, can you-"

"Got it, I'll tell them to cool it. Your poor sister!" She slipped off as Quinn facepalmed.

"Give Daria some credit, Quinn," Helen smiled softly. "She's grown a lot. You might be more nervous than she is."

Quinn followed her mother's eyes and looked up to the little stage.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," announced the host, "Tonight we have a duo visiting their hometown from Boston." He turned to the pair walking onstage, pausing when he saw Trent's hand held in the air and bringing a finger to his lips.

Cool it, Dude, stage fright.

The host nodded, and refrained from elaboration. He began to lead the audience in a polite round of applause.

Amateurs, he smiled.

Trent stepped forward, dressed in black jeans and an old Mystik Spiral T-shirt. He carried his trusty Alvarez dreadnought, sparkling with a fresh polish. He smiled as four thumbs silently shot into the air, not too far from the stage. The pub audience chatted lightly over drinks. He turned, and took the hand of a lovely, petite brunette in jeans and an oversized Raft sweatshirt. The small Martin guitar she carried seemed almost too big for her hands. They settled onto stools as a bored house tech set about adjusting the instrument and vocal mics. She rested her guitar on her right leg, turning her head to move her long auburn hair out of her bright brown eyes.

Oh my God, sis, you look great! Glancing over to where Daria's old classmates were hanging out, she smiled as she noted the open mouths.

"Hey, folks, it's kinda strange being back in Lawndale," came the familiar calm tones over the house PA. "I'm Trent Lane; some of you might remember me from back when I was with Mystik Spiral, like a lifetime ago. I promised mystery woman here that I'd introduce her only if we don't suck tonight, so you'll have to wait. I'll just say that she's kind of been a major positive influence on my music, and I'm sure you'll see what I mean."

Daria flashed a shy smile at the audience, and turned to her partner, counting out a tempo. She began a bright, crisply rendered intro, joined by the cadence of his dreadnought laying a rich chord progression beneath her melodic groove. Looking first at her companion, she closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked out into the audience, singing in a warm, throaty contralto. She sang the refrain and then the first verse by herself, a bit nervously, but with passion and heart. The conversations began to drop away as patrons turned to the stage, wondering who this new talent was.

Trent joined her on the second refrain, and he took the second verse on his own. By the time they joined on the third verse and the last refrain, the crowd was theirs, and on their feet.

Not a single paper cup landed on the stage during their set. Three songs later, the couple stood for an enthusiastic ovation. "Thanks, folks, I'd like to introduce my partner and muse, Daria Morgendorffer."

Is there anything my sister can't do if she sets her mind to it? Quinn beamed as she hugged Daria. "Sis, that was fantastic!" Turning to Trent, she pulled a semi-monotone and purred in a mock stoned voice, "Heeyyy, handsome, not bad at aaalll."

"Jeez, you two are related," Jane laughed, handing Daria her glasses. "You rock, Amiga!" She waited as the glasses went on, and for the reaction when Daria realized who had come to witness her debut.

"Oh God," came the response, accompanied by the deepest blush Jane had ever seen on her friend's face. "Hi mom, dad, I guess we didn't suck."

Daria faced her parents, both of them with goofy grins. "Oh hell," she muttered, handing her guitar to Trent and opening her arms for a group hug.

"Cat's out, looks like," Trent said, putting her guitar into its case.

"I'll say," said Jodie, shaking her head. "The Stoic here has found another creative release."

"And it doesn't involve a high vantage point and a telescopic sight," laughed Jane.

Author's Notes: Yes, I like Thanksgiving as an event useful to move the story forward. Since the holidays are important to students in college, makes sense to me.

And for those that want to see the lyrics that Daria and Trent have written, use your imagination. It's better than the rubbish I would try to pass off as their work. Think Ani DiFranco, Fiona Apple...

-M1