Vamp, on Sisters

“This is your new sister,” they told me. “Her name is Morning Glory.” I couldn’t help myself when I asked: “Morning Glory? How’d she even pick that out?” But they told me, “She didn’t.”

. . .

I was already twenty when she joined the family unit. And I had little to no interest talking to my own peers, less a child, but I thought it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. They already leave me alone most of the time, y’know, as long as I don’t make a mess in the rest of the house, and it’s easy not to when I barely call it a home anyway. So how the hell was I supposed to guess that they’d force me to freaking babysit her? 

“Don’t you think it’s a good idea to get someone more uh.. qualified..??” I stammered for any kind of excuse that might get them to change their mind, “You know I don’t have much experience with kids and.. what not— And we’ve got the money, right?” but they must’ve seen through my forced smile. “Sure,” they said, “We do. But that’s not the point of this. We think it’s about time you start bonding with her, you know?” 

Bonding?? Oh, sure! Bonding! THAT’S what this is about! You’re just looking for an excuse to get me to do free labor, aren’t you?! This is all this is about— You three can’t have your own “heirs”, and after you realized I’m a lost cause, you’re using me to make sure the new one doesn’t run straight into a table corner and get a concussion or something. 

And I couldn’t even use the exact same words they’ve used against me as an excuse. If I warned them that I might be a bad influence on her, they’d just snap back with a Should we have a reason to think that? and before you know it, I’d be out of the house. And I can’t have that. Not yet. 

So I was stuck with Little Miss Perfect all day. Great. 

Morning. I lay in bed, dreading being home alone needing to take care of MG. Sighing, I pick up my phone and tap on the “call” icon. I bring the phone up to my ear and wait out the ringtone with some kind of nausea in my throat.

— Hey– What’s up? — Blog answers pretty quickly, thank the stars, but she can already tell something’s not right.
— Hey. So uh. Plans kinda cancelled, — I fiddle with the strings of my hoodie with my free hand as we talk.
— Aw, man. What happened? You okay?
— Yeah, I’m fine, I’m just.. stuck babysitting Miss Sunshine ‘cuz apparently I’ve “gotta start spending more time with her” or whatever.
— HAH! Damn, that sucks! I hope you don’t burn up from that much exposure to the sun.
— Haha, yeah.. — I sigh, — I suppose I should go make sure she doesn’t starve or.. something.
— Yeah? ‘S that why you called and not just text me this?
— Oh, buzz off, — I hear her laughing at this, of course, — Shame on me for wanting to hear my friend’s voice, I suppose.
— Shame indeed! — she giggled, — I’ll try my best not to get too distracted, I promise. You go make sure the princess doesn’t starve.
— Yeah.. Alright. Talk to you later.
— Byee~ I’ll text you any updates.
— Thanks, man.
— Mhm, — I can practically hear the smile on her face. Too bad that’s probably the last pleasant interaction I’ll have all day.

She hangs up.

My hand stays there for a while, phone next to ear; eyes staring up into the ceiling. My stomach growls. I should get food, but getting food means cooking for her too. And she’ll probably be bothering me about it. But I can’t lay here all day ignoring it, as much as I’d like to.

With a huff, I get up and put my pajama pants on.

But as I walk downstairs to the kitchen, I’m rid of the pleasure of getting through at least the first three songs of my morning playlist, before having to plug the ear buds out.

— ..Good morning.
— Goodmorning! — the child yips out, doing a little wave at me, as she already sits at the kitchen island, little cup of water in her hands, — Can you make breakfast?
— Uh. Yeah. How long have you been awake for??
— Umm.. Since seven.
— ..Why didn’t you wake me up to make you breakfast earlier?
She just shrugs at me: — Your door was locked.

I am momentarily stunned, as I simply stand there, baffled. Did she not think to knock? What does the door being locked have to do with anything? But I then remember how one of the guardians was complaining of chest pain to me because of her and think, actually maybe I have been spared of a much worse fate.

— Uhh, alright, — I chuckle, — You can knock next time if you need breakfast, y’know? — I walk over to the fridge.
— Hmm, perhaps! 

…Okay???????????????????????????????????

Staring into the contents of the fridge, I think to just go with the scrambled eggs. Everything else either looks unappetizing or like too much effort. 

Putting four eggs onto the counter, I go grab the.. no, not the smaller one, the bigger pan. I look back at MG. She doesn’t say anything, just staring at me, but when I look back, she avoids her gaze, awkwardly sipping at her water. I wonder if she’s nervous around me. Maybe that means I’ll be able to chill out today at least..

The stove beeps to life as I press onto one of the buttons. It doesn’t take long for it to heat up enough for the pan and I crack the eggs into it. 

— Do you care if it’s spicy?
— I’ll eat it, — she ginned.*
— ..Alright, — that didn’t really answer my question but I guess at least I don’t have to make it bland for her sake.
— I do like my eggs yolky, though.
— Hm, — I stare down at the pan, which already contains all four eggs scrambled together. I turn around to her, — Does that mean you wouldn’t eat scrambled..?
She proceeds to sigh ever so dramatically as if I had dared to ask something ever so truly unprofound and banal:
— I suppose!

I think perhaps I have to kick this child into the sun. Where she belongs. The sun will set on the Glory Empire. 

— ..Well, I’m not really feeling like eating four whole scrambled eggs, and I don’t think our parents will enjoy me cooking a whole six eggs, so I guess you’ll just.. have to survive.
— Sigh.. What a cruel fate.. — she mumbles.
— Whatever you say, MG.
— Whuh?? E– Em-Jee??
I turned around to her with a raised brow, spatula in hand: — Yeah?
— That’s not my name!
— It’s a nickname?
— Wh- No, I know what those are! But that’s not my name!
— Well– I guess it’s technically incorrect, since it’s a hard ‘G’, but like.. Would you rather I call you “Em-Gee”??
— No!! I would rather you call me none of those! My name is Morning Glory!
— Em-Gee.. Your name has the same shortening as “miligram.” Maybe I should call you miligram.
— Nooo!! Call me Morning or Glory!
— Nah, — I flip the little bits of scrambled egg, smirk on my face, — I think your new and much improved nickname will be Miligram.
— Nooooo..!! — her voice gets muffled as she slowly deflates onto the island, face completely down. I can’t help but chuckle to myself.

Eventually, breakfast is ready, no matter how much she tries to dig knives into me with her shiny baby eyes (I assume that is what she must have been doing, with how much she was pouting at me) and I’m able to enjoy it mostly in peace. 

But I do try to keep the whole “Em-Gee” thing going throughout the day, even as she ropes me into playing princesses with her and what not.

. . .

— ..Maybe that’s why I hated hearing her name that much. If a child picks out a name like that for themselves, it’s weirdly cute, in a way. Sure, it makes them seem like they might grow up into a selfish prick, but at least it shows they’re imaginative, y’know? At least you know they’re going to be an interesting person. ..But it wasn’t that. So every time I heard it, it was like a constant reminder. “You weren’t good enough.” Not good enough to even bother to try and rename me.
— I’m glad they didn’t. I like your name.
— Yeah?
— Yeah. It’s more than just enough.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told her all of that.