Larifa
"Hey! I brought pears again!"
With a basket of said-fruits in one hand, and with her leather jacket tucked beneath her other arm, Larifa made her way around the hospital bed and towards the person who she loved most in the world. Setting aside the basket on the bedside table, Larifa took a look at the free chair that she had swiped from the hospital cafeteria a few months back, and like the wild child that she was, seated herself back-to-front.
When the attention that she hoped for wasn't immediately received, Larifa let out a weighty sigh, in hopes that her favourite person would put down the book that they were currently engrossed in, and maybe notice that her adopted daughter had arrived with gifts. Again, her mother said nothing. So she tried again.
"Hey, guess what."
Her mother didn't move. "You dyed your hair again."
"Nope. That was last week. Just touched up the blonde. Guess again."
"You finally decided to take up ballet."
Larifa rolled her eyes, as she rocked back and forth on her cheap, plastic chair. "Yeah, I'm fifteen years too late for that. I'm not into that contemporary stuff. You know that."
Finally, her mother lowered her book ever so slightly, just enough so that she could give her daughter a quick glance over before diverting her gaze back to her pages. "New jacket?"
"And here I thought you never liked to pay any attention to your only daughter," Larifa grinned, patting down her jacket sleeves and pockets with vigor.
"You're adopted. I can give you back whenever I want."
With a deep, forced sigh, Larifa perched her chin a top the chair frame. "I don't think the orphanage is looking to take in little, lost twenty-two year old's this time of year. Maybe I'll get lucky next spring."
Anyone could tell from one look that they were not family by blood. Larifa's dark skin was a giveaway, in comparison to June's olive wash. Not to mention Larifa's unnaturally and unevenly bleached, blonde hair was just another comparative difference, in relation to June's sleek dark locks. One could have mistaken them for friends, rather than mother and daughter. After a minute or so, Larifa stood from her chair and made her way over to the side of the hospital bed with her hands on her hips.
Then, she grabbed her mother's book by the spine, and pulled her arm away before she could protest. "Could you please stop reading for one second? I didn't come to visit you for nothing, you know."
June gave Larifa an irked, dead stare before folding her arms across her chest and exhaling a breath of burnt irritation. "You visit me more than my nurse does. I talk to you more than I get the chance to read."
"But Mom, you see, my life is just so...exciting."
Her eyes locked with her mother's, and for a second, neither moved or said anything. That was, until June gave way to a sniffle, which turned into a snort, which then turned into a tumble of laughter down the both of them. Larifa was sure that if anyone else besides herself, her mother June, and her son Ansel happened across themselves, they'd have no idea what to say. Their family dynamic wasn't normal, and Larifa wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not, but she liked it: that they weren't a normal family. Of course, they were missing a father-figure, and if he hadn't been killed in action then Larifa was sure that they'd be the perfect square of mischief.
But, triangles were stronger than squares anyway.
Clutching her stomach, June sunk into her pillows with a grin plastered to her lips. "So, you really came all this way to show me your new jacket?"
Larifa shook her head, amusing at that thought. She had definitely come into the hospital to visit for much less in the past. "I actually wanted to break the news in person. Drumroll?"
"Just tell me already."
"Okay, okay. I finally moved into my new apartment yesterday."
June's eyes widened, and while she took the time to sit back up in her bed, all the while her smile remained as wide as the horizon. "Come over here and hug me already, before I realize I'm already forty-three."
Larifa swept her mother into a hug, and then proceeded to dump all of the details that she had been holding back. She stayed for another hour or so, talking about her new place and her job which she would be starting in a couple of months, and all the while June listened to her intently. Afterwards, once the grey, city lights fell through the open window and somehow lit up the unicoloured hospital room, Larifa felt content enough to leave her mother alone once again. She waited for one of the nurses to drop by with her medication before kissing June goodbye, throwing her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and reluctantly exiting.
For once it seemed, Larifa left the hospital in good spirits. She hadn't skipped with glee since she was a kid, and she wasn't about to start, but she felt as if her body was capable of exuding such joy. She was glad that her mother was well; it felt like a weight had been lifted off of her chest, much like every time she visited. Of course, Larifa couldn't help the nagging inside of her chest, because her mother was all too familiar with that dreary, white room. But seeing her like that could temporarily relieve her heart of worry. Temporarily, anyway.
While she scurried through the city, every so often she passed who could only be the worlds most reliable, civil servants. With obviously bland, lacklustre attire alongside their bland, lacklustre faces, the beings known as Bionics, or Bionized people, strolled through the streets adjacent to their humans. They were expressionless, as far as she had ever been able to tell, and while she knew that some possessed the ability to fake a smile, it always looked so...unnatural. To the left of her, there was a Bionic holding hands with a child, to the right of her, there was a Bionic simply collecting litter with a pick-up stick. Any human could spot them from a mile away, and while they had no strict uniform, their body language spoke for itself.
Somewhere along the lines, if Larifa could recall back to her high school history classes, someone had found a way turn empty corpses or broken people into these inhuman, talented creatures. That in turn, had transformed into the international civil service under the name 'Reliqua' and to be frank, Larifa didn't know much about them. Her family wasn't poor, but they were definitely not well off enough to hire their services.
As far as she was concerned, there was that part of the world, and there was hers. She had no intention of crossing over into that carefree bubble of modern...ness.
She was old school. And that was how she liked it.
Larifa had planned to meet with her university friend, Micah, who was still completing his final year. Seeing as Micah was a third-year art student, Larifa didn't exactly have high hopes for their spent evening. Micah had an extreme habit of shutting himself inside his of dorm and never leaving, and she knew that without his plans to meet Larifa, her friend would never see the sunlight if he could help it.
As she quickly paced through the city, Larifa clung to her leather jacket, wrapping it tightly around her body like a blanket; although impossible to do so, she still tried.
It was cold, that day.
***
"Come on shithead, open up already!"
What had Larifa expected? To be welcomed inside after the first time knocking like anyone else would? Of course, by Micah's doing, she had been left outside of the flat to yell and knock for ten minutes or so, with heavy doses of glares from passing city folk.
She pouted. "Are you even alive in there?"
No response.
Sighing, the blonde stepped to the side and peeked into the window past the curtain. All she could see was darkness, and a silhouette hunched over at the coffee table. Larifa walked around the back of the building; her friend lived in an off-campus dorm, and his room kind of dove below path level, almost like a city basement. She climbed atop the bins, careful to move slowly as to not fall, and over Micah's back fence before landing gracefully onto her feet. After spotting an open window leading into the kitchen, Larifa thanked the heavens that for once her small frame came into use.
After successfully breaking into her friends house, Larifa immediately came face to face with rooms that were overfilled with empty coffee mugs, crumpled paper balls, the remains of many nights of takeaway-
And a rather dead looking Micah.
"Hey, hey! Don't you dare die on me!" Larifa shook her friend's shoulders, trying to evoke some sort of response from the washed-out, mint-green head which was planted onto the coffee table.
At last, Larifa made out muffled grumbles, so she ran into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. When she returned, Micah had his head up and was facing the wall, his eyes half closed, and with a pencil still held upright in his hand.
"Ugh..."
"Here, drink."
Micah turned to look at Larifa, and blinked slowly. "The fuck? How did you get in?"
"By using the powers of agility and smallness. Mike, you shouldn't stay up all night like this. It isn't good for you man."
Micah turned away to drink from the glass, his floppy and wayward bangs floating as he dipped his head back to swallow. When he went to talk again, this time, his ridiculously charming English accent came through without the pains of a crusty throat. "Who are you to question my lifestyle choices?"
"Take a good look around Mike."
Her friend turned around, eyed his living room for a few seconds, then turned to face the wall again. "What if I like it this way?"
"Now I know you're just taking the piss. This room stinks of mould, and greasy pizza boxes."
"Pizza is ALWAYS good."
"Mike!"
"So perhaps I should clean up some time." Micah scratched his head. "But I haven't got the time for it. I've got a project which I have to complete by the end of this semester, and I haven't even started." He then swivelled around to face Larifa, the look in his eyes desperate and tired. "I haven't even started, Tuff. What the hell am I supposed to do at this point? I only have a few weeks left."
Larifa placed her hands on either side of Micah's head, and without mercy, shook his poor skull to-and-fro. "Mike, you're a great artist, the best I know. You just haven't met the right kind of inspiration yet, and let's face it, you work better under pressure. Remember last year when you didn't have time to buy the right art supplies? And in the end you used-"
"-cardboard instead of paper mache, yes I know. I worked my fucking ass off for that. Well, it came out looking jagged, but it still got me some points for creativity."
"And that time you spilt juice on your portrait, so you soaked it in dyed water and worked over it with light pens and acrylics?"
"Yes I remember Tuff. Although the theme for that was supposed to be 'identity' and I had to explain to the professor how I identified myself as a colourful person. Jesus Christ." Micah chuckled to himself, and Larifa's smile grew even bigger. "The fattest lie I've ever told."
Nodding with approval, Larifa stood up straight again before surveying her surroundings. "Well, if you're not in too much of slump, we should start cleaning up. Don't you think?"
Micah shook his head, scratching his shoulder beneath the sleeves of his X-day old white Tee-shirt. "Tuff, you don't have to. You just moved into your new place yesterday. And, don't you have any work to do, for your new job?"
"I don't start my job until after Christmas, and I have time Mike. And it'll be...fun?"
Micah shook his head with a grin, before standing from the sofa chair. "Fine, you have a point. I owe you one Tuff."
He shoved his face into his palms, those green strands of hair with dark roots flopping over his fingers, while he tried to rub away his fatigue. "What time is it?"
"It's almost five."
"...You wanna get takeout?"
Larifa grimaced. "Um, surely, never again after all of this?"
Micah held up his hands in defeat, as he made his way into his kitchen before opening the fridge. "I'm kidding, kidding. I would cook for us but...well..."
"I'm already on it. Sit your lazy ass back down, and I'll go and get some things from the supermarket."
Before Larifa could leave the room, Micah grabbed her wrist and looked his friend dead in the eye. "Seriously Tuff, thank you."
With a smile, Larifa shrugged off his hand. He wouldn't be thanking her in a second from now. "No problem. Now give me your card."
"...I take it back."