Tonight they were going to crash a party.
“Wait…we’re gonna do what?” asked Donatella.
“We’re gonna crash a party! It’ll be fun! There’s gonna be dancing and music and…”
“But why do we have to crash the party? Can’t we get somebody to invite us so we’ll know they want us there? Don’t you maybe know a way we could get somebody to give us an invite?”
“But what fun would that be?”
It was a little before noon, and the two sisters were sitting across from each other inside their living room in their brand new home. The story behind the brand new home went like this; the pair had been walking in tense silence down the sidewalk in front of the dilapidated house that leaned uncomfortably to the left like a drunk. They had just finished having an argument a few blocks back about whether they should get a puppy – Donatella for, Maura against - when Maura suddenly stopped, her eyes lighting up. Donatella knew this could either be a very good thing or a very bad thing, so her voice was cautious and a bit edgy when she broke the silence.
“What?” she said.
“We’re home,” answered Maura.
And so just like that it was as if the argument had never happened. But there never was a puppy.
It wasn’t the first time Maura had made that declaration about finding home. They had lived in any number of odd circumstances for days, weeks or months before deciding it was time to move on. But the affection that warmed her voice about the drunken house was the first time Maura had given any hint that this could be a more permanent stay. She used her magic to fully decorate the inside (the outside remained the same so as not to draw attention) with all sorts of colorful paintings that never hosted the same scene for more than an hour, glass sculptures that restlessly twisted, stretched and experimented in and out of new and different shapes and other artwork that similarly refused to behave. Just like Maura.
Where had she learned about all that?
“But what fun would that be?” Maura repeated, her voice now somewhat agitated as she began to levitate.
Maura was agitated (again) because she was growing tired of too often feeling like a babysitter when what she wanted was someone who could be as mischievous and carefree and adventurous as she considered herself to be. Caution to Maura was a bad word, but it was a word that Donatella practically lived by. She loved her adopted sister dearly, she had chosen her! But something would have to change. Maybe she should stop calling her Little Girl…?
Donatella took note of how Maura was now floating, which was something she tended to do whenever she got upset. That day at the gas station store when she saw her take several steps forward off the cashier’s counter onto the air it had scared her. Not a lot, but enough. Now it was just…whatever. Maura being Maura.
“OK. Well then let me ask you this, sis; why do you wanna go to a party where won’t nobody be able to see you? What fun would that be? Huh? Answer me that?”
The last thing Donatella had ever wanted to do was to cause Maura any pain, not because she was necessarily afraid of what that might cause but because of affection. You didn’t willingly cause pain for those you loved, even when they made you mad, and Maura was the only person she loved besides her parents whom she hadn’t seen in several years. But the gnarled expression on Maura’s face told her she had maybe just crossed a line, and her heated gaze began to cool. She fumbled nervously with her fingers in her lap as she traced the patterns on the floor tile with her eyes.
“Sorry, she said, her voice sounding muffled as she shook her head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Sure it is,” said Maura. “But that’s OK. We’re still going. I think maybe you need this fun more than I do, and I need it bad.”
The uncomfortable silence between them lingered for awhile before Donatella slowly raised her head and met the sting of her sister’s eyes with a look of apology. She shrugged.
“OK. Sure. What time?”
Maura eased one corner of her lip upward into a mischievous smile.
“Late.”
Donatella thought by ‘late,’ Maura probably meant maybe nine or ten? But when nine o’clock came and then ten o’clock ticked away while the couple was still sitting outside on their front steps, Donatella started to wonder if maybe the plans had changed. But the party was Maura’s idea so she figured it didn’t make sense to sound anxious or to push her too much. Because Maura wasn’t one to recover quickly from a slight, even if it had been unintended. Best to try and relax and let Maura take the lead – wherever that may or may not take them.
“Nice night,” she said.
Maura pulled out a cigarette from the pack laying on the worn step between them, lit it, then blew out a long slow stream of smoke. She nodded, although she looked as if she hadn’t heard. But then she said, “we should get ready.”
It was a full half day after Maura had announced they were going to crash the party when the pair showed up at a new spot in the Boston Edison neighborhood called The Congregation. Once upon a time in a whole other Detroit the wine red brick building had been a church catering to an entirely different type of congregation, which explained the name. It had become mad popular from the day the doors opened, both with the newer residents as well as the old. Tonight the spot was pulsing with the thump of house music as a swirl of multi-colored bodies bounced to the insistent beat. The crowd spilled out a pair of wide doors onto a large wooden patio that descended to a spacious backyard populated by wood frame picnic tables overshadowed by patio umbrellas.
Donatella and Maura looked at each other and their faces blossomed.
“You still think we’re gonna have a problem getting in?” asked Maura.
Donatella laughed.
“This is so cool! But seriously, wouldn’t it be more fun for you if everyone could see you? I mean, you’re so pretty Maura, and I just think…”
Maura gave a sly grin.
“Watch this.”
TUNE IN NEXT WEEK AS THE STORY OF ‘THE WITCH’ CONTINUES…