Thought this was done...
Apr. 27th, 2024 02:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chicatingBut there's a bit more. Maybe three more parts
So I guess Kyla can quit pretending she’s not listening.”
Flushing, I turned the local news on, barely registering the flickering footage of a local car crash in front of my face. “I wasn’t…um, not the whole time.” I tried to be a rationalist, but if I had believed in signs, hearing news like that, no matter how great, while watching a car crash, seemed like a bad omen. “I’m sorry. But it just sounded so great. “We’re a little short of romantic declarations around here.”
“You’ll meet somebody,” Jess said, tragically if still loyally. That kind of response was probably sad at our age, besides, I had the ultimate Question Of Timing expanding away beneath my heart. “I think Alex might have been interested…things are more than facebook-complicated now.”
“Are you sure nobody in your family….”Ana asked. She looked so worried while asking that for once it was a relief to tell someone about my dad’s radio convention in Los Alamos and that mom had Raised Her Kids. It was still hard to tell them about the ways that people either looked repelled by the bloom of my belly, or, conversely, rubbed it for luck.(One man even did both on the same day; I've wondered about him ever since.)
I have no idea whether there is anything that I bestowed by allowing all this touching. I never really liked it, but at the same time, it did seem like the one part of my new role that my life as a Special Child prepared me for. (And, yes, who would I be to not improve someone's life or health just because the moment they chose to ask was inconvenient, or you couldn't stand that their gum smelled like fake bananas? On weekends, I put out a tip jar, and recited a little poetry...just so there isn't more money I didn't earn out there. I put up a token fight when the doctor wouldn't let me do it. But I didn't really mind.
So I guess Kyla can quit pretending she’s not listening.”
Flushing, I turned the local news on, barely registering the flickering footage of a local car crash in front of my face. “I wasn’t…um, not the whole time.” I tried to be a rationalist, but if I had believed in signs, hearing news like that, no matter how great, while watching a car crash, seemed like a bad omen. “I’m sorry. But it just sounded so great. “We’re a little short of romantic declarations around here.”
“You’ll meet somebody,” Jess said, tragically if still loyally. That kind of response was probably sad at our age, besides, I had the ultimate Question Of Timing expanding away beneath my heart. “I think Alex might have been interested…things are more than facebook-complicated now.”
“Are you sure nobody in your family….”Ana asked. She looked so worried while asking that for once it was a relief to tell someone about my dad’s radio convention in Los Alamos and that mom had Raised Her Kids. It was still hard to tell them about the ways that people either looked repelled by the bloom of my belly, or, conversely, rubbed it for luck.(One man even did both on the same day; I've wondered about him ever since.)
I have no idea whether there is anything that I bestowed by allowing all this touching. I never really liked it, but at the same time, it did seem like the one part of my new role that my life as a Special Child prepared me for. (And, yes, who would I be to not improve someone's life or health just because the moment they chose to ask was inconvenient, or you couldn't stand that their gum smelled like fake bananas? On weekends, I put out a tip jar, and recited a little poetry...just so there isn't more money I didn't earn out there. I put up a token fight when the doctor wouldn't let me do it. But I didn't really mind.
