Curtains by Man Man

Fail! by Rainbow Kitten Surprise


"Pixis?"

"Yes, Miss Reiss?"

"...This is a lot of clothes...you sure it was ok?" I had expected maybe three outfits, or five if I was lucky, but father had given enough money for fifteen outfits from expensive stores. I was able to buy new undergarments, too, instead of using my mother's hand-me downs which were too big.

"Not really, Miss Reiss, you should see your father's and brother's closets! This is simply bare minimum until you desire to expand on it. Certainly, we can go back if you want? We still have a lot left over."

"O-Oh... No...it's fine... Th-Thank you."

"I am here to please." Pixis justified with a smile to the rear view mirror.

How could people have so many clothes?

I only had three dresses, one pair of shorts, four jeans, two skirts, and only a handful of shirts back at home. Now, I felt like I being excessive.

"Ah! Before I forget, your brother will be home today! Your father called him and told him to make time and meet you! We will be having a late tea. Does that sound grand?"

"Oh, yes... Um, what is he like?"

"You'll have to wait and see!" Pixis optimistically hummed.

I was picking at my dress as I thought over what he'd be like. I was able to see a picture of him—he was just like me with blond hair and blue eyes. He seemed to be a bit effeminate by the way his pictures were done. He didn't look intimidating and that gave me great comfort.

Pixis's phone rang as he plugged in something and put on an ear piece.

"Hello, Mr. Reiss...Ah, yes, I've taken Miss Reiss shopping today...not much, she insists that this is enough... oh, only a couple of outfits, sir... Ah, yes, I did bring her to all the store- oh? Well, that's true... Oh, certainly," Pixis put down his cellphone and did something I couldn't see.

"Hello Krista." I jumped, startled as the voice came from the speakers of the car. His voice was as rich and thick as molasses. A little weary with age, too.

"Mr. Reiss can hear you, Miss Reiss, please, talk to him," Pixis told me as I stared, bewildered.

"H-Hi-" did I call him father? Or did I call him Mr. Reiss, too?

"Oh, don't be frightened, Krista! It's good to finally hear your voice."

What was I supposed to say?

I never thought of my father previously. It was something that others had but I didn't, and that was a very long list of things I worried about, but him being in my life was at the bottom. Until now that is.

"Krista?" He called out.

"I'm here," I quickly spoke up, "um, I-I want to thank you for all this... um..."

"Go ahead, you can call me father- yes, call me whatever you wish."

"Thank you...father." The word felt strange on my tongue.

"What a lovely voice," he hummed with a soft chuckle, "why, have you ever been in choir? I have a lot of appointments set up for us once I am back to find hobbies for you."

"I sang at church." Only twice. Ever.

"Oh, church you say? What one?"

"What one?"

"Religion, which one?"

"Catholic, s-sir."

"Ah, it's ok—just call me father or dad or whatever you prefer. Sir is too formal." His laugh was soft and heavy like he was exhausted.

"Ok. I'm sorry."

"So polite!" He hummed and I didn't know how to respond to that. His tone left nothing to go off of even if he laughed—it was something I couldn't read or define except for blandness. It left me without words to say or a proper hint as to how to react. I fell back into silence and I could hear his light breathing on the phone.

Pixis kept glancing back at me, wondering why I wasn't speaking.

"Hm," father finally broke the awkward silence as if he never noticed it, "have you put thought into your name, Krista?"

"Sir, I've told her a bit about it, but I figured it was a conversation best left face-to-face." Pixis spoke up, helping me.

"Ah, well, Krista, any thoughts? I would find it most appealing if you changed at least your last name. It will ensure a smooth transition, darling."

Darling?

I wasn't sure how I felt about pet names as I glimpsed at Pixis to find a sad expression on his face.

"I-I will do that-"

"Wonderful! Spledid!" My father's voice picked up a faint sense of happiness. Pixis managed to wipe the emotion off his face and smiled at me.

"This gives me great happiness," father's voice did sound like it, "I am very thankful, but I must ask—what about a first name? Krista is a good name, but it lacks... Hm, a refined appeal, don't you think so? It's a name that holds onto your past, isn't that right? Would you want to start anew with a different name, one you wish to be called?"

His voice was patient and kind like how Papa's was when I didn't know what tool to bring him. It was a sound that I had forgotten as the years went, but the warmth it brought me didn't go unnoticed. His consideration was something I savored.

"Maybe... Do you think that'd be good?" I asked to my own surprise. Father was offering me everything I hoped for as a child—a new start. I could leave behind the bullying and abuse if I changed my name. I would be a whole new person.

"It doesn't matter what I care for, Krista. It is your name—something you will live with for the rest of your life. It is your decision. I only have the legal power to ensure it happens."

Kindness and compassion.

Everything I had hoped for in Papa, but had not found.

"Yeah."

"Yes, you want to change your first name, too?" Father asked for clarification.

"Yes...please."

"Then we shall have the paperwork ready when I am home. Put thought into your name, Krista. I understand this is very important to you. I'm eager to hear your decision when I'm home." He hummed.
I felt myself smile as I stared at my lap, fiddling more with the fringe of my dress.

"Oh, but I ask for one favor in return."

Oh.

I had assumed too-

"Pixis, go by the Apple store—buy a laptop for her. Krista, I want you to purchase clothing or whatever you want online. Sometimes the stores don't have all their products in stock, right? I want you to set up an e-mail, too, so we may stay in contact—Oh! And buy her a phone, Pixis. I can't have her without one."

I felt my cheeks redden.

"Father, I don't-"

"Nonsense! You will have what all the other kids shall have these days! Armin has them and I will be upset if you did not have the same as him! Now, keep your end of the bargain and I will see you in a few days, darling. I must go. Business partner insists I have a few drinks with him. Goodbye for now." With that the call ended and I was left dazzled at how freely he was throwing money around for me. Only a few weeks ago did I ever hear of him.

"We shall make another stop before we head home then, Miss Reiss." Pixis announced.

"Pixis, does Father always...insist on spoiling?"

"Spoiling? Oh, Miss Reiss, this is only the necessities for someone of your age! He is not spoiling you but giving you what he deems vital for you. Trust me, this is very little compared to his definition of 'spoiling'." He chuckled at me.

"It's... My family... Papa and them, they never had a lot of money... I didn't... we couldn't afford much." I didn't want to confess that I was the last priority of the household money. I'm sure he knew because he was the one who helped unload the little I had when I arrived.

"I understand, Miss Reiss. This might seem excessive, yes? Well, I will assure you it is not. Not for your father or the life you will live. Now, don't fret too much about it. Think of how much fun it will be! All the different laptop colors! Phone numbers to add, yes?"

I didn't have friends to add.

In fact, I had entirely forgotten about giving Ilse my old number until now. I had lost my chance to find and reconnect with Ymir, but the pain that resonated in my heart wasn't as heavy. My stomach didn't experience the drop of emotions it usually did when I thought of my missed opportunities with Ymir.
Things were looking better now—New life, new name, and I was about to purchase things I only ever dreamed of owning. It was too much like a dream, but I knew it wasn't. It no longer was. This was my reality and I didn't hesitate any longer to embrace it.

"No... it's fine... I'd like to leave my old life behind and start fresh."

-x-x-x-

Pixis had delivered me to my room with my clothes and electronics and promised to be back in an hour or two to set up the luncheon with Armin.

To pass the time, I opened my laptop and began to surf the internet. I went to Youtube and searched up silly things—baby bunnies, Patsy Cline music, and informational videos of fancy dining to refresh my memory. But, that only held my attention span for so long as I redirected to Google, typing in my father's name, Rod Reiss. Several article links came up as I skimmed through all of them, trying to glean information about him. He owned several hospitals and businesses and was regarded as a very successful man. The laptop was a prime example of this.

Then one article caught my eye-Freida Reiss.

I felt myself inwardly cringe that I had almost forgotten about the misfortune of her passing.

I opened it despite feeling like I had no right to and my screen was promptly flooded with pictures of her and a lengthy eulogy.

I read it to the last word. All three pages of it.

She was a charitable woman who somehow managed a life as the heir to the Reiss fortune and company while maintaining a busy yet very popular social life. She supported many events that involved children with disabilities and people who faced tragedy in their life. I found myself at the conclusion that all those flowers in the parlor were an understatement to the love she earned to the thousands who knew her. Freida was like a heroine in my storybooks—righteous, loving, kind, and wise. Just reading about her made my heart ache, wishing I had met her before her passing. But I didn't. I couldn't decide whether I felt jealous of her or mourned for the wonderful person she was. I was stuck between envy and what was right.

I closed my laptop and stood up, deciding I'd figure it out myself.

Somewhere in this house was her room. Maybe if I stepped inside of it I could feel like how a normal person would. Maybe I could muster the sadness like everyone in the household felt instead of this blankness of forced sympathy and sorrow.

Nobody else would feel like this unless they were a terrible person. I didn't want to be terrible. I wanted father to be happy he adopted me. Be the person he was proud of. If I couldn't be that then I didn't deserve his kindness. The first step to earning my place in this household was to correct my feelings about Freida, the person that was most important to everyone. I had to feel sad or at least be wholly sincere to her name. Not a bitter, spoiled child who saw someone with something better.

I slipped out of my room and went venturing down the winding halls. All the doors appeared the same and every single one lead either to a spare bedroom or a recreational room. Some of them were even empty.

How many rooms were there?

Where was Armin's or father's? Most importantly, where was Freida's?

I kept snooping about, opening doors and peering inside.

Nothing.

I went through the main parlor and into the main hall. I took to the west wing and wandered, glancing about. Many pictures were on the walls, showing father and his many achievements over the years. I walked further along until father and his wife began to pop up. Then Freida and her childhood followed by Armin. Before I knew it I was at the end of the hall that lead to a lone door.

I had a gut feeling this was Freida's. My skin prickled as I stared at its knob as a perplexing feeling came over me. I reached out, touching it.

Cold.

I turned it but it didn't budge. I wiggled it and learned it was locked.

Cold and locked up.

"Excuse me?"

I spun around and jumped back, succeeding in slamming my back against the knob and nearly doubling over in pain.

It was Armin, holding a messenger bag and wearing glasses. He was staring at me with stark disapproval.

I didn't know what to say. I was caught exploring in a place I knew I shouldn't have been.

"Are you lost?" He asked, leaning his weight onto one foot and lessening his glare.

"Y-Yes... um, I-is this the tea room?" I feigned.

"No... The tea room is near the back gardens..." Armin didn't look away. I didn't expect him to look so coldly. His expression was unforgiving as my skin began to crawl and I regretted not wearing something that showed less skin. I brought my hands up to my chest, gripping them together in attempt to collect myself, and try to pretend that I was ok with this—a normal person wouldn't tremble at being looked at too long.

Breathe.

One.

Two.

"Come on. Tea should be done," he slightly eased. He jutted his chin to the side, motioning to follow him as he finally turned and released me from his gaze. My body slumped from its frozen state. I shakily exhaled and stared at his back.

Good job.

Perfect first impression.

Just what you needed to show- you're a nosy, insensitive brat.

I trailed a distance behind him. He led us through the maze that was the Reiss mansion till we were in the sun room that hosted a tea corner.

"Ah! Armin, I apologize but I can't find—Oh! Miss Reiss!"

Pixis put a thankful hand on Armin's shoulder but he shrugged it off as he sat down, pulling out his laptop onto the table. I knew Armin didn't see it, pretty sure he didn't care either, but Pixis gave him a very dirty glance before changing his expression into a grin.

"This is Armin, your brother-"

"Hey," he spared me a small smile and then sat back in his chair. His eyes were back on me. I preferred it when he was staring listlessly at his computer.

"Hello," I was able to return the courtesy smile, "my name is Krista."

"I know."

Pixis coughed.

"Miss Krista will be changing her last name to Reiss and her first name when she finds a suitable one." He announced but Armin didn't seem to care too much about it.

"What do you like, Krista? Um...sorry about earlier." He apologized. I was taken back at how fast he jumped into conversation, but it was a lot better than him being distant and rigid.

"I-It's ok... I'm not used to this place and I got lost... But, um, I like playing the piano. I enjoy reading."

"Piano? Did you take lessons?"

Armin's eyes spoke a lot more than his words did. I could almost see his mind race. There were things running through his mind that he did not say. Whether they were good or bad were up for debate.

"M-My g-grandmother taught me, b-but I taught myself, too."

"Oh. What's your favorite piece to perform?"

"Heart and Soul."

He snickered but Pixis gave him a disapproving look.

"That's a pretty simple but pretty piece, isn't it? I can play that, too."

"You do?" I hadn't met anyone else in my town who knew how to play the piano.

"Oh, um, yeah... I-It's one of the first I was given to play." His eyes widened a bit.

"So you like piano, too?"

"Uh, it's ok—I'm more of a computer person. Do you like computers?"

"Um... I only used them in school, really..."

He gave a slight nod and we both were silent, staring at each other.

"So, um, I really like programming and theater, do you like any of that?"

"...I'm sorry but I only saw movies about theater—that's acting and stuff, right?" I didn't know programming so I stuck to theater.

"...Kind of..."

This lunch was going nowhere except to prove how different we were.

Pixis knew it was stumbling so he went to preparing the tea and setting out the pastries. I couldn't help but blame him for making me confident in believing that Armin and I would get along.

"I really like Patsy Cline. Any old music, really," I pursued for the sake of my father and trying to be the best daughter I could be. I honestly did want to get along with Armin. I wanted to have a friend and someone to talk to. I could be there for him if he was upset or needed someone to talk to. Be a good—older or little sister?

"Oh...I know a bit about her... but I really like trance."

"...trance? Isn't that like hypnotizing?" The subject changed so quickly.

"...No...it's music..."

Oh.

Well...

"Here's your tea and some treats," Pixis intervened, giving both of us a break from the strained conversation. I immediately fixated my mouth on a cookie, staring out the window, pretending to be interested in the flowers, but I was starting to feel gross in my stomach. I was attempting to find common ground, but there really was nothing. I wasn't sure if he even felt the same way or not or if he was purposely repelling me. I guess I wouldn't blame him if he didn't want to be close to me. I was a child his father had with another woman. Someone who barged into their home after his older sister passed away.

"I really like Spring... It feels nice." He absently mumbled.

I didn't really like Spring. It meant muddy roads that would inevitably track in dirt. Grandmother would always slap the back of my head and scold me and tell me to clean up the whole house. It meant that sometimes I couldn't run fast enough in the muck from the boys.

"Me too. I love Spring." I replied.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Where I lived, we had horses, and I took care of them. Got to ride around in the fields and by the creek."

His eyes lit up as he gave a warm grin—it was so natural on his face. It fit so perfectly.

"Oh? That sounds nice... I used to go horse riding. Freida, she-" he stopped and the shine was gone once more. Only bitterness came back as he stared into his tea cup.

"We used to go a lot. It was a lot of fun." I could see the sadness there.

The loneliness.

It was all too familiar. His eyes were the same as mine in that I could see his emotions.

I wonder how many times did he cry since Freida's death? Did he ever stare at himself in the mirror only in hopes to acknowledge he was sad, and that despite all that has changed that he remained the same?

It hit too close to home.

"Oh... what if we went, Armin—horseback riding?" It came out faster than I hoped and he stared up at me with surprise, but he shifted his eyes away.

"...Thanks...Maybe sometime." He nodded weakly.

Again, I was insensitive and tried to force myself to fill the sadness. Of course I wasn't enough to help. I wasn't the type of person to help anyone like that.

"I-It's ok—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

And he didn't deny that. He only sipped his tea, staring out the window, ignoring me.

I shot Pixis a pleading look, hoping he'd know what to say, but even he was staring out at the garden longingly.

It felt like I was a sore reminder of the person who was supposed to be here. I bet they thought I was a shoddy second-hand replacement. That it was a cruel joke that I was brought in after she left as if I was supposed to fill her shoes. They didn't have to say it but I knew it was what they were thinking.

I was a waste here, too, wasn't I?

I found my throat clenching as I wished I knew how I could be accepted. I felt like nowhere would accept me as the person I presented myself as, that I had to constantly change myself to suit what others hoped and wanted to see.

I wish I could be like Freida. I bet she would have known how to make them laugh and smile, how to make friends quickly.

I wish I could be perfect.