Chapter Twelve: A Promise Is A Promise
A/N: Black Sheep by Metric – that's the song I picture for this first part.
Daria threw her bag down, falling face first onto her bed. The day had gone slowly, far too slowly for her liking. There had been more work this week, given the usual file jockeys were on leave. This left Daria in Principal Li's office, sorting and filing. The pay was decent, but the work was benign. It was easily the final blow to her sanity, as she switched on her stereo as loudly as she could manage.
The world around her was growing slower, dimmer, and duller. There was no spark, no need to get a word in edgewise. No need to fight back and no way to escape. With her pillow over her face, music blaring, it almost felt normal. It was almost like being somewhere else, somewhere she could be properly alone, and able to write.
A tiny buzz brought her back from her resignation, a quizzical tilt to her brow. She dug in her pocket, pulling out her phone. What did Monique want now? She'd spent all day playing lackey to a crazy militaristic woman – Daria didn't need round two with passive-aggressive Elvira. She was supposed to spend the night at the Zon, if only to deter more badgering from the Harpies.
The message was not much more than a number – Nathan's number, it seemed. That was the guy Monique had told her about, wasn't it? Daria contemplated deleting it without a second thought. She could lie, and say the message never sent, or she found out he was a gimp in a strip club. That was her back-up plan, for the moment.
In fear of the repercussions, along with the reluctance to maintain a lie, Daria sent off a message. It wasn't too exciting. It took several cautious seconds to write, proofread, and send.
"We should get coffee so Monique will leave me alone."
A few hours later, she received a message back. It mirrored her own lacklustre attitude, for better or worse.
"Whatever time suits you. Whatever."
Why were they even being forced together? Daria pondered this as she sat at the Zon, waiting for music to start up. It was a repetitive, annoying mix of loud bass and tuneless singing. The guys were setting up backstage, and Monique had yet to hound her down. Daria was thankful for that. She brushed her fringe out of her eyes, with her elbows set on the bar's wooden surface.
When the boys returned from the musky backstage, Daria met them with a look of confusion. They had left her to go perform last time she checked.
"We have to wait for them to finish." Jesse waved over his shoulder towards the stage.
The other band members looked just as bummed out, not that Daria could tell the difference. They were rarely expressive. She could tell, however, that this band on stage had to be the owner's friends, or family. They were worse than the usual groups, and that was saying something. She grimaced, taking a sip of her water. The mood didn't improve as they proceeded to perform the eighth or ninth encore that no one had asked for.
"If I die of boredom, will you make sure nobody touches my corpse?"
Max scoffed over his glass. "Nick, shut up."
Nick just smiled, arms splayed over the bar as he waited for his scotch and coke to arrive. His hair was already stuck to a spot, though he didn't seem to notice (or care, for the matter). They all seemed uniquely disinteresting tonight. The glitz and glamour of a garage band was wearing thin.
Daria turned to Trent, who had been exceptionally quiet. Usually he had some smartass comment, but he seemed consumed by thought. A rare occurrence. "How's the –"
"Hey guys!"
As luck (or cruel fate) would have it, Monique bounced over to them, her hips swinging like a pendulum. Everyone smiled and groaned in welcoming, aside from Daria who remained midway through a sentence. She let the conversation starter die in her throat, lips pursed together.
Claire and Jodie were sitting at a table nearby, a table that they relocated to with some difficulty. It was a big group to accommodate for after all. Jesse and Max dragged another table across to them so it would be easier to seat everyone.
"Girls."
"Tch, we're grrrls." Claire corrected, a smirk on her lips.
Conversations broke out across the table, varying from musical theory to TV shows they hated. For the first time in a long while, Monique seemed less interested in chatting to Daria, and more interested in Trent. Daria smiled to herself, sure that this was a good sign. She didn't need to be hounded by the lead singer twenty-four, seven. It was grating to her barely-there patience. She was got time to chat with Claire about her home in England, and why she had chosen to move across to such an unremarkable part of America.
"I moved here with m'family a few years back." Her admittance was brave, but sheepish. "I made friends here, and now we're in a band. I didn't see a point in movin' back, not without them anyway."
Daria nodded, pretending she understood. Daria hadn't really had friends with moving (or staying) for. It was a strange concept of devotion she didn't quite get. Being a uniquely lonely girl most of her life meant she never had to worry about moving; there was never much to leave behind, except for the occasional idiot or bully.
Once the guys finally got their time on stage, Daria remained for two songs. The yawning never stopped, not even with their 'hits' like Icebox Woman. Given she was driving, she didn't need to pass out on the way home. A car crash wasn't sounding ideal right now.
"Are you leaving?" Monique sighed.
Then again…
Daria shouldered her bag a little higher, yawning against the back of her hand once more. "Before I fall asleep on the table, yeah."
She looked thoughtful for a moment before shrugging, waving her hand to Daria. "Go, go. You need rest before you see Nathan." A cat-like smirk spread across her face.
"Ooh, Nathan?" Claire grinned.
"You're seeing Nathan?" Jodie echoed.
The girls were apparently unaware of the date, but aware of the man. Daria silently hoped it was for good reasons; she didn't want to put up with an idiot, or mace a jerk. She glanced between the three Harpies, looking fearful.
"He isn't some Phatom of the Opera type or something, is he?" Daria pushed her chair back in, arms crossed over her chest. The emphasis on his name really made her uneasy.
Monique shook her head. "Just a brain. You'll like him. See you 'round, Dar."
Daria stared a little longer before shaking her head, waving very minutely to the three girls. As she marched towards the exit, she caught Trent's eye. An apologetic smile replaced her blank expression before she could stop it, quickly looking away from him. She felt bad for leaving during their performance, but she was sleepy, she was hungry and there was work in the morning.
Being an adult sucked. Not that, that was some new revelation.
At the age of twenty-two, you'd think arriving home after midnight was acceptable. Instead, she was greeted by Helen and Jake, sitting in the lounge looking contemptuous. "Young lady."
"I'm neither of those things." Daria let out a groan, stopping halfway up the stairs.
"Down here. Now." Helen's voice was crisp, concerned. Professional, as always. It made Daria's skin crawl.
"I'd like to point out I'm twenty-two, in case that slipped your mind." Daria sat down on the couch, ankles crossed and hands locked in her lap. While she was at home, she was expected to call home if she would be home late. In all honesty, she hadn't expected to be out so late. She hadn't even meant to go out at all – but she had made a promise. This was exactly why she should never make promises in the first place.
"We have rules."
"Which apply to Quinn, because she's underage, remember? I'm an adult, I work…" Daria listed off her qualities, trying her best to keep a level tone. She could see the tiredness to her mother's eyes, and the slump to Jake's shoulders. It wasn't fair to any of them; they were living in the past, and she was stuck with them.
After a short discussion about ethics and morals and responsibility, Daria knew what she had to do.
"I'm moving out."
Helen scoffed, shaking her head. "I don't expect you to move out – you don't earn enough money, and you're only here to save up so you can make it back to New York." Helen let out an annoyed little breath. "We just expect a level of responsibility –"
"No, you expect me to abide by rules that haven't applied to me since I left for college. I get you both think of me as your little girl, or your baby, but I'm not. I can afford to live in my own place, and – " Daria slowed her words, regaining her composure. "It will take longer to get back to New York, but it'll also mean less stress for you guys. And for me. I appreciate the help, but I don't think this is working."
Daria stood up, hands clenched by her side. "I'll – start looking for places tomorrow. You two can help, if you want." She offered that last part as solace. They could remain part of her life, but they weren't going to get a chokehold on how she lived. She was a mature adult, and it was damn well time she started acting like it.
The sound of the front door opening caught Daria's attention. All three of them turned to look at Quinn, who was sneaking in from a date.
"Hey, while we're on the topic, can I get my own apartment too?"
"You're in trouble." The words came from Helen and Daria in tandem, with Daria looking bemused as possible. The night had taken a turn for the worse and the better. She excused herself, waddling upstairs to flop onto her bed once more. With work in the morning and her sudden decision to move out of the house (whether that happened or not) made her feel tired. More tired than she'd felt, even at the Zon.
A buzz from her pocket once more. Daria groaned and dug her phone out of her pocket.
"you missed our gig."
"I had a crappy night – I'll see you guys next time, I promise."
Daria mentally slapped herself – didn't she say earlier all these promises would get her in trouble? At least with Trent, the trouble might be fun. A stupid thought flicked through her mind, complete with a goofy smile and red-tinged cheeks.
"you promised, so don't complain when i drag you out."
That little pixelated message was enough to make her crappy week – and that was sad to think about. "You're a damn fool, Morgendorffer."
"Daria, stop talking to yourself! I'm trying to get my beauty sleep!"
