Chapter 169 - The Younger Sister (1/2)
Gabriel gazes at Mariya, trying to be sure Claire isn't pranking him by wearing her hair this way. The similarities are uncanny. There's that classic pout that he always found endearing with Claire, but here, it's a bit strange to see it in action and being done by someone else.
”Are you Claire's sister?”
”Isn't it obvious?”
”You're Mariya, right?”
”My friends call me 'Mari' or 'Riya'.”
”So…” Gabriel hesitates. ”Should I call you Mari, then?”
”You're not my friend. So call me Mariya, okay? I haven't investigated you, yet.”
Gabriel laughs. ”How old are you?”
”Old enough to kick your ȧss if you do something bad to my sister,” Mariya says, folding her arms on her ċhėst. ”Do we understand each other?”
”Uhh, yes,” Gabriel says, trying to keep a straight face. He couldn't help but be amazed at this ”version” of Claire. Mariya's short-cropped hair reminds him of Tinker Bell in those Peter Pan movies he'd seen as a kid. She looks as though what Claire would look if you'd up the settings for ”Cuteness.” There's no malice here, though; already Gabriel looks at her as his own sister, and one he's proud to have. And for some reason, he remembers Miguel back in the city; Miguel with his obsession with Claire. What if Miguel and Mariya meet?
Indeed, what if?
”Good,” Mariya says. ”You may get down, then, because food awaits. Mom's breakfast waits for no man.”
”Okay, boss,” Gabriel says, grinning.
”And stop grinning,” Mariya says. ”Do we look like we take breakfasts like a joke around here?”
”Oh, sorry,” Gabriel says, trying to pretend seriousness, although inside, he feels like guffawing. ”Believe me, I am taking this very, very seriously.”
Carol is in the kitchen/dining area, working deftly with preparing the food. She greets him with a smile and gestures toward the table, where food and their respective plates are neatly arranged, awaiting them.
Gabriel looks around, wondering why there are only the three of them. ”Is Claire up yet? And David?”
”Claire was up very early. I guess she missed the farm. She's out there checking the field and our operations. Her dad's with her.”
”Oh,” he mutters, seized by a strange excitement to quickly finish this breakfast (which he must do so that Mariya here won't break his legs).
Mariya looks like she's not even eighteen yet. And indeed, she still has that child-like quality about her; she seems to straddle that awkward boundary between being a teenager and being a proper lady. She's wearing an over-sized t-shirt, and skimpy shorts, and she seems unaware of her sėx appeal even as she walks around looking like she's wearing nothing but that shirt on, or when she sits by the dining table with one of her legs propped up on her chair. And for some reason, why does he keep on thinking about Miguel?
And speaking of Miguel, Gabriel recalls Mrs. Gomez—he has to send a text message right now. While he still can. He takes out his phone and surreptitiously types a couple of messages. But that action does not escape Mariya, who squints at him and reaches over the table to tap his arm with her spoon.
”What are you doing?”
”Uh, sending a message to my—”
”What did I tell you about breakfast? What did I tell you about manners?”
Carol smiles awkwardly. ”Mariya, I'm sure Gabriel must really send that message.”
Mariya arcs her eyebrow at her mother. ”But it doesn't matter, Mom! We don't text while we eat.”
”I'm sorry,” Gabriel says. ”I really am. Look, I'm putting my phone back here in this pocket and I won't even touch it while we're eating.”