Titan's Daughter

24 hours ago:

“Dad, I’m home!” Gaea voice echoed through the sparsely furnished house. The living room seemed to engulf the meager furnishings in its vast space.

Ever since Gaea was born, it had just been the two of them rattling around in this big old house.

Gaea kicked off her shoes and carelessly tossed her bookbag aside as she strode up the stairs directly ahead. Following closely behind was Sprite; she giggled and took off her own shoes, placing them beside Gaea’s, beneath the coat rack.

The collection of footwear, a mismatched assortment of lopsided white sneakers and mud-caked work boots, completed the chaotic ensemble. Carrying Gaea’s bookbag, Sprite ascended the stairs with a bouncy stride.

Reaching her room, Gaea fell face-first into a disheveled pile of clothes on her bed — ignoring the musty odor. She huffed and let out a breath, releasing her exhaustion into the midst of the dirty laundry.

Sprite entered the room, promptly hanging their bags on the hooks behind the door. Grabbing the remote control, she flipped through the TV channels until she settled on the local news.

“The sky is clear, promising a delightful evening that stretches into tomorrow morning,” declared the weatherman.

Sprite lowered the volume and activated the captions.

Gaea fished her phone from her back pocket, she rolled onto her back and placed a pillow under her head. Extracting the gum she had been chewing since fourth period, she stuck it behind her headboard.

“See, this is what happens when you’re raised by old people,” she said.

“Look, honey, you need to stay informed about the world,” Sprite responded.

Chuckling, “Honey?! Who uses such terms at the age of fourteen?” replied Gaea, playfully imitated the speech from the old movies and TV shows they watched together.

Although Gaea didn’t particularly enjoy them, she supported Sprite’s fondness for them. Checking her phone, Gaea chuckled once again at her lazy humor.

Meanwhile, Sprite struggled to remove the scrunchie holding her permed, golden curls in a ponytail, wincing as strands of hair clung to the elastic as she pulled it out, allowing her curls to fall naturally.

Clothing scattered on the floor, and a shirt dangled from the computer chair. Picking up the shirt, Sprite sniffed it before tossing it into the overflowing hamper next to the door.

Curiously, she asked, “When was the last time you did laundry?”

Aware of Sprite’s weakness for tidiness, Gaea made an effort to respect her friend’s room when she stayed over. Having known each other since birth, they frequently alternated sleeping at each other’s houses. Occasionally, when Gaea returned home after spending the night at Sprite’s — where a sea of clothing didn’t cover the floor — she would be motivated to tidy up her own room. However, more often than not, it was Sprite who would clean it when she stayed over. Nevertheless, this was Gaea’s room, and she kept it how she liked.

“The last time my laundry got done was the last time you did it,” Gaea replied, her words a little more forceful than she had wanted.

With their birthday approaching, Gaea focus was on reconnecting with their estranged friend, rather than concerning herself with dirty clothes.

Sprite’s usual mothering was not helpful in the moment. Despite being close, almost like sisters, Gaea had recently established boundaries with Sprite, one of which was leaving her room as it was when she was over. Unfortunately, Sprite ignored it.

Sprite let out a frustrated moan as she rolled her eyes. “You’re not gonna do it,” she said.

“Stop cleaning my room, girl. You promised!” Gaea snapped.

Defeated, Sprite gave in. “You know you won’t do it,” she mumbled.

“She just posted her dress for tomorrow!” said Gaea, sidestepping her growing annoyance at Sprite.

Sprite unzipped her book bag, removing a couple of books along with a sheet of sanitizing wipes. Making her way to the desk situated in front of a large window, she began cleaning its surface diligently.

“Are you stalking her on Instagram now?” Sprite asked.

“If she hasn’t blocked me yet, then it ain’t stalkin’,” Gaea replied, defending her actions.

Sprite wrinkled her nose, swiping a half-eaten pizza off the desk with the sanitizing wipe. The discarded slice landed in a small trash can nearby, disturbing a few flies that had been feasting on an apple core. The flies buzzed around Sprite’s face, irritated by the disruption to their meal.

Sprite Muttered to herself, “It’s been four days, look at this room,” as she scrubbed the desk vigorously with the sanitizing wipe.

“Pru isn’t your property, Gigi,” her voice rising slightly. “You need to let it go.”

“Don’t you miss the three of us together, Sprite?” Gaea asked, her tone tinged with nostalgia.

“We were born on the same awful night, in the same dinky hospital, barely five minutes apart. You don’t just throw something like that away for Instagram likes.”

“I do miss us,” Sprite admitted.

“But she’s made her choice”. Besides, Gigi, we don’t have a monopoly on her friendship. Pru is allowed to have other friends.”

“Not at the expense of our friendship,” Gaea insisted.

Sprite, her voice carrying a hint of empathy, “The past few years have been difficult for her.”

She continued, “Maybe what she needs right now is a change and different friends.”

Gaea and Sprite were two of eight kids in a town predominantly inhabited by retirees. Born in the same month, with three of them sharing the same birthday, they had been friends since birth.

They have always been particularly close, until high school introduced a new social order.

However, Gaea had made it her mission to “rescue” Persephone from the clutches of the girls she referred to as the “She-demons,” whom she believed had stolen her friend.

On the other hand, Sprite believed that Persephone should return willingly, without pressure.

Entering high school, the three “She-demons” despised Gaea, but gradually they assimilated Persephone into their ranks, separating her from Gaea and Sprite.

Gaea turned off her phone in frustration and tossed it over her head, where it collided with the headboard.

Making her way to the door to retrieve her backpack, “So you’re saying that I’m the problem?” Gaea questioned.

With a casual toss, she threw the bag back onto her bed, not bothering to zip it up properly, resulting in a few books sliding out.

“No, I’m saying we need to give her some time,” Sprite clarified, twirling her pen momentarily before placing it on her notepad. She swiveled the chair to face Gaea, who was perched on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly flipping through her math book. Resting her elbows on her knees, Sprite interlocked her fingers.

Gaea, aware of this familiar gesture before a Sprite lecture, fought the urge to make eye contact — for some reason, Sprite never starts until she has eye contact from the person she’s about to address — but ultimately failed, stealing a glance in her direction.

“What I mean is, we’ve been friends our entire lives, and that won’t change,” Sprite began.

“Whatever Persephone has gone through in recent years, the new environment seems to have had a positive impact on her. Perhaps having new people in her life is part of that growth.”

Since Persephone’s return from New York at the end of the summer break, Gaea and Sprite had noticed a significant change in her attitude. It was as if a dark cloud had lifted, allowing her to reclaim her true self.

After their twelfth birthday, a darkness had consumed Persephone, causing her to become aggressive and experience frequent mood swings. She had even distanced herself from Gaea and Sprite, no longer allowing them to sleep over. However, after returning from her vacation in New York, Persephone had seemingly reset her personality and returned to the friend they remembered, albeit with a subtle shift. Regardless, Gaea and Sprite were relieved to have their friend back, caring little for the minor changes.

“I don’t know what she sees in them, anyway,” Gaea mused, her frustration evident.

“They aren’t even from Perthly Bay.”

Having once lost Persephone to an undisclosed issue, Gaea had made a solemn vow to never lose her friend again, especially not to the She-demons, no matter how harsh Persephone’s behavior toward her had become.

“It shouldn’t be us versus them, Gigi. After all, we’re all from Massachusetts,” said Sprite.

“When Courtney stuck gum in your hair the other day, Pru didn’t say nothing,” Gaea recalled.

Rubbing the bare spot on her head where her grandmother had removed the gum, Sprite sighed.

“You know what?! Forget her!” slamming her book on the desk.

“I have to wear my hair in a ponytail now to hide the bald spot at the center.”

“Yeah, forget her!” Gaea huffed, sharing Sprite’s sentiment.

“I hope her fancy dress gets ruined in front of the whole school tomorrow,” she continued, a mischievous grin crossing her face. A light rain began to coat the over-size window.

Gaea leaned back against her bed, unto the pillow.

“I hope an entire plate of spaghetti gets dumped on her perfect head of hair tomorrow,” she said.

“yeah, and everyone gonna call her sauce and noodle head,” said Sprite, snickering at her own joke.

“Yeah,” Gaea said, her voice falling a little. The laughter faded.

“I just want my friend back.”

A knock on the door was followed by the familiar sight of her dad’s face poking in, his bushy eyebrows always asking a question.

“Evening, ladies,” he greeted.

“Hey, Dad,” Gaea responded, a small, contented smile replacing the sadness that was there a moment ago.

Sprite chimed in with a polite, “Hello, Mr. Winters,” trying her best to ignore the rumpled dark blue shirt Mr. Winters was wearing. A tie hung loosely around his neck like a forgotten decoration. He pushed the door open a bit wider.

“I ordered some pizza,” he said.

Gaea perked up. “With pineapple topping?” she asked.

Sprite put on a face of pure disgust. The display of mock horror on her face only made Gaea laugh.

“You bet,” her dad replied.

“Tip’s on the kitchen table.” He shifted a foot, as if readying to leave.

“Sprite, are you staying over?”

Sprite nodded, “Yep.”

“Alrighty then,” Mr. Winters nodded. “I’ll let your grandmother know when I reach the station,” his voice receding as he pulled the door close. And with that, he was gone.

“I thought it wasn’t supposed to rain?” Sprite asked.

Gaea simply shrugged, “That’s why it’s called a forecast.”

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