Page 5 of Souls We Rip

“Have you?” I stomped forward with a tension in my neck. “Who?” My voice turned into a shout, the cows and sheep prepared pasture, turning in my direction.

Angelica twirled, her index finger pressed to her lips.

I did not want my little sister to end up with a partner the same as our father or worse. When he drank, he would become a whole different person.

One time, he took a few sheep and killed them all in a fit of rage because our mum had not finished sewing his shirts.

Then he hit her.

It was the first time. But not the last.

By the time we got into our village, the roosters were crowing, cows were mooing, and carts were rolling along the pebble streets.

“We should hurry, or people will see us dressed like…”

“Like what? Whores?” my sister cooed, puffing up her chest.

I nodded and hurried my feet to get to our home.

As we reached the wooden gate, our dog Azor started barking, his small paws rushing towards us.

“Hush, dog! You’ll wake them up,” my sister whisper-shouted.

As soon as we hit the porch of our house, we heard the large barn door open.

Angelica darted through the main door of the house, and I followed her to our room.

It was a small chamber with two beds covered in ponevi, their large, complicated floral patterns covering most of the surface, and large feather pillows. The room was illuminated by a tiny wooden window, though the glass was still dirty as we did not have the time to clean it after the last rain. The walls were decorated with a wallpaper my mum ordered from one of our neighbours; blue and white swirls rising from the floor to the ceiling.

The door squeaked as I pushed the handle, and the warmth finally settled into my bones. I jumped into bed, high from all the blankets mum had placed on it.

“Don’t get too comfortable, we still have to help Mum with the food and feed the animals before we bathe. We have to make ourselves look pretty for the fair,” my sister chastised, placing her hands on her hips.

“You really want to leave this house, hm?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

Angelica sat on her bed, just as high as mine, and tilted her head. “I don’t want to leave you and Mum. But… I want to make my own future,” she said, her voice raspy, eyes watery.

I stood up and hugged her. “If you say that this is what will make you happy, then I am fully by your side. And who knows, maybe this year I would meet my fated one, too.”

I felt her chin nodding against my shoulder, her graceful fingers squeezing it lightly.

We allowed ourselves one more minute, and then we dressed. I pulled another hemp shirt over my head, my wide, pleated skirt made by my grandmother and slipped my pointy opinci onto my bare feet.

The rubber shoes were the greatest footwear for any weather. Being sunny, rainy, or icy, they would support our feet during daily labour.

Even if the morning-cool air cut through my skin, in the afternoon, when the sun would be at the top of the sky, the heat would boil us.

Over the shirt and skirt, I added my labour apron, a simple grey fabric, which paled next to the good one I wore for Sunday sermons. That apron was special. The bottom of it was ornate with cipcă, crocheted by my mum, golden flowers decorating the sides of it, matching the waistband.

“GIRLS!”

Speaking of our mum, her sweet voice burst into the house, her footsteps echoing through the hallway.

She opened the door, making a face at the sound of the hinges. “I’ve told Anghel a hundred times to repair this. But all he ever does is…” She peered at us, the small frown between her blonde eyebrows disappearing. “Girls, let’s make haste! We have a lot of work to do!” She was dressed simply like us, but her hair was tucked beneath a batik.

I rushed to lace my opinci and kissed her on her cheek.

“Your lips are cold, Ana. Have you two been out again?” She placed her hands on her hips, her blue eyes moving from me to my sister.