I Was Made to Love You
The robot hasn't said anything in a while. It's warm; Buffy thinks about taking off her jacket, but then she looks at the robot -- April, she thinks, she looks at April -- slumped against the swing next to her, and doesn't move.
"Can you cry?" she asks April. "I feel better if I cry sometimes." On the other hand, she's not made out of metal. "But there might be rust issues."
"Crying is blackmail," says April, sweetly. "Good girlfriends don't cry."
What do you say to that? "Oh."
"I've rechecked everything. I did everything I was supposed to do. I was a good girlfriend."
She kind of wants to kill Warren. "I'm sure you were."
"I'm only supposed to love him," April says earnestly. "If I can't do that, what am I for? What do I exist for?"
Okay, universe, she thinks. I get the picture. The life lesson is coming through loud and clear, five by five, over, roger that, now can the sad robot not be sad anymore? "I don't know," she says aloud. "It isn't fair." She refocuses on April. "He wasn't fair to you."
April's eyes move. "It's getting dark. It's so early to be dark."
It's broad daylight. "Yeah," she says.
April's head turns; a small, isolated movement. "What if he comes back and he can't find me in the dark?"
"I'm here," Buffy assures her. Her throat feels funny. "I'll make sure he finds you."
"Maybe this is a girlfriend test." Now she's smiling. "If I wait here patiently this time, he'll come back."
It's so unfair. "I'm sure he will," Buffy says gently. "And he'll...he'll tell you how sorry he is. You know, he told me...how proud he was of you. How impressed he was with how much you loved him and how you tried to help him. He didn't mean to hurt you."
"He's going to take me home and things will be right again."
She tries to smile. "It'll be fine."
But April isn't looking at Buffy; she's looking at something in the distance. "When things are sad, you just have to be patient." She's speaking slowly, now. "Because..." Like it takes effort to form each word. "Because every cloud has a silver lining. And when life give you lemons...make...lemonade..."
Her throat feels too thick. It's not fair. "Clouds and lemonade, huh?"
"And...and things...are always...darkest...before..."
She waits, but April doesn't say anything more.
The sun is so bright.
*
There's a bouquet by the door when she gets home. A really fancy bouquet with a card. Obviously it's her duty as a Slayer to read the card and assess it for potential demon threats.
Duty. Yes.
The card says: Thank you for a lovely evening. See you soon (?) -- Brian.
Okay, so probably not a gigolo. Or at least a polite and thoughtful gigolo with excellent taste in flowers. She can deal with that. Daughterly stamp of approval.
Still a couple of guys getting it right.
She doesn't hear her mom's footsteps, so she moves toward the stairs. "Hey! Flower-gettin' lady! You want me to pick up Dawn at school?"
Then: "Mom?"
Still nothing. She turns toward the living room, and there's her mother, lying on the couch. Funny, why -- why is --
"Mom! What are ya doin'?"
She's still.
"Mom?"
She's so still.
"Mommy?"
The sun is so bright.
"Can you cry?" she asks April. "I feel better if I cry sometimes." On the other hand, she's not made out of metal. "But there might be rust issues."
"Crying is blackmail," says April, sweetly. "Good girlfriends don't cry."
What do you say to that? "Oh."
"I've rechecked everything. I did everything I was supposed to do. I was a good girlfriend."
She kind of wants to kill Warren. "I'm sure you were."
"I'm only supposed to love him," April says earnestly. "If I can't do that, what am I for? What do I exist for?"
Okay, universe, she thinks. I get the picture. The life lesson is coming through loud and clear, five by five, over, roger that, now can the sad robot not be sad anymore? "I don't know," she says aloud. "It isn't fair." She refocuses on April. "He wasn't fair to you."
April's eyes move. "It's getting dark. It's so early to be dark."
It's broad daylight. "Yeah," she says.
April's head turns; a small, isolated movement. "What if he comes back and he can't find me in the dark?"
"I'm here," Buffy assures her. Her throat feels funny. "I'll make sure he finds you."
"Maybe this is a girlfriend test." Now she's smiling. "If I wait here patiently this time, he'll come back."
It's so unfair. "I'm sure he will," Buffy says gently. "And he'll...he'll tell you how sorry he is. You know, he told me...how proud he was of you. How impressed he was with how much you loved him and how you tried to help him. He didn't mean to hurt you."
"He's going to take me home and things will be right again."
She tries to smile. "It'll be fine."
But April isn't looking at Buffy; she's looking at something in the distance. "When things are sad, you just have to be patient." She's speaking slowly, now. "Because..." Like it takes effort to form each word. "Because every cloud has a silver lining. And when life give you lemons...make...lemonade..."
Her throat feels too thick. It's not fair. "Clouds and lemonade, huh?"
"And...and things...are always...darkest...before..."
She waits, but April doesn't say anything more.
The sun is so bright.
*
There's a bouquet by the door when she gets home. A really fancy bouquet with a card. Obviously it's her duty as a Slayer to read the card and assess it for potential demon threats.
Duty. Yes.
The card says: Thank you for a lovely evening. See you soon (?) -- Brian.
Okay, so probably not a gigolo. Or at least a polite and thoughtful gigolo with excellent taste in flowers. She can deal with that. Daughterly stamp of approval.
Still a couple of guys getting it right.
She doesn't hear her mom's footsteps, so she moves toward the stairs. "Hey! Flower-gettin' lady! You want me to pick up Dawn at school?"
Then: "Mom?"
Still nothing. She turns toward the living room, and there's her mother, lying on the couch. Funny, why -- why is --
"Mom! What are ya doin'?"
She's still.
"Mom?"
She's so still.
"Mommy?"
The sun is so bright.