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The Wedding - completed
Nov. 27th, 2009 06:22 pmSummary: It's the first wedding for one of the Bailey kids, and predictably, all Hell breaks loose.
Prompt:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
varadia X and Laura or Michael Bailey (Or Rose, if current Milli-continuity works better) Love Love Love
( Notes & Index )
A clown and a little girl are walking through the dark woods. The clown turns to the girl and says, Gosh, this is scary.
Prompt:
varadia X and Laura or Michael Bailey (Or Rose, if current Milli-continuity works better) Love Love Love( Notes & Index )
A clown and a little girl are walking through the dark woods. The clown turns to the girl and says, Gosh, this is scary.
(no subject)
Jan. 13th, 2009 03:16 pmMorningside Park Middle and High School are part of a particular kind of private school; aimed at the young and upwardly mobile people of Morningside Heights who don't like to think about what that spells. The ones who don't think of themselves as private school people, but aren't quite insane enough to send their children to a Harlem public school.
There are no uniforms; there are lockers, and dances in the gym, not private hotels. There is, here outside the school office, a long wooden bench where troublemakers awaiting their doom can contemplate what has brought them to this pass. It looks more like a TV set of an ordinary American high school than an ordinary American high school--no graffiti, no door torn off the lockers, and this bench doesn't get a lot of occupants--but that's good enough.
There are three kids on this bench; one of is from the high school, tall and athletic in a wiry way. He's in ninth grade. The other two are eighth graders; a small Asian boy in glasses and a pretty-but-gawky girl with honey-colored skin, draped in a letterman jacket that's far too big for her skinny frame.
"You are so dumb," Laura Bailey tells them. "Dumb, dumb, dumb boys."
***
"Hey--um, hey Laura?"
She pauses in the doorway, her friends waiting up for her; a thousand sof adolescent girl-stares nailing him to the spot.
"Yeah?"
"D-do you have a date to the dance Friday?" Kevin Park stutters out.
She smiles--whenever she smiles it's like the sun coming out; Kevin Park is not a poet (words are hard) but he wishes he could be. He's only fourteen. Then she nods, and his heart hits his tennis shoes.
"Okay," he says quietly.
Laura smacks his arm. "You. Duh." Then she darts off to catch up with her friends, who are twittering about it.
He doesn't care. (His arm kind of hurts. He doesn't care about that, either.) "Hooray!" he tries saying.
No, that was stupid. But his grin--while maybe not as illuminating as Laura's--is pretty wide going home.
***
"I mean, I'm not even surprised about you," she tells the older boy. "But you're supposed to be the smart one, Kevin. I don't need two stupid boyfriends! One is enough!"
Kevin already looks low; now he's trying to climb into his own collar.
To Chad: "And I don't know what you're looking so smug about, dumbass. God. What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking, wow, Laura's going to be pissed if I just stand here and watch Ferguson beat the crap out of her--out of this guy."
***
"So I have a date to the dance Friday," she mentions. They're getting a slice on the walk home.
"Hah, you're funny."
"I'm not joking," she says. Mmm, extra cheese.
"You can't go to the dance with someone else." Chad is indignant.
"You said you didn't want to go. You said it was a dumb middle school baby dance and you had better things to do. I want to go, someone asked me." She shrugs, chews.
"Okay, fine, if it's such a big deal, I'll take you."
She shakes her head. "Too late, I already told Kevin I'd go with him."
"You can't go to the dance with someone else."
"Well... I'm gonna." You can't let boys boss you around.
"Well, we have to break up then."
She shrugs. "Okay."
"Whatever." He kicks the table.
"What does that mean, whatever?"
"Whatever, go with your little middle school friend. I don't care."
"Okay. Are we broken up?" Chew chew chew.
"No. Do you want to break up?"
She shakes her head; beams. "No, I'm fine."
***
"Kevin," she says, "you have to lie."
"What!?" Chad grimaces. "That's bull."
"You don't understand about his mother." Kevin looks terrified; silent.
"I'm not scared," Chad says. "There's no rule about it."
"His parents will pull him out of the school, Chad."
"What?"
"They barely can stand that I have a girlfriend," Kevin whispers.
"Jeez."
"I don't want to lie," Kevin says, quietly. "I'm not sorry."
Laura looks sick; so does Chad a little bit. "Maybe you should, dude. I will, too. That way it's fair. It was all just a bunch of rumors."
"No, that's dumb," Laura says. "That doesn't make any sense at all."
***
"I had a really good time," Kevin says. She's holding his hand, and he's acutely aware that it's sweating. He wishes it would stop.
"I did too!" she says. "I never knew you were so cool, Kevin. You're always so quiet."
"I'm not cool," he says. He's having a wonderful night--a dream-come-true night--but he's not delusional.
"Maybe not cool-cool," she admits. "But you know so much stuff I don't! And you get so excited about it, it's totally cute." He gets very pink.
He wonders if he should kiss her. She looks troubled, though, so he doesn't.
***
The boys are arguing; as far as Laura can tell, they've completely switched positions on everything by now.
"Omigod," she says. "Fine. Look. Let's just tell Ms. Patterson everything. The truth is the simplest thing."
"It's not that simple," Chad sulks.
***
"You what?"
"I really like him," she says, twisting her fingers. This is different than telling him about the dance.
"So you're breaking up with me?" Chad sounds... disbelieving. For an eighth grader??
"I don't want to," she says, her voice small.
"What--what are you saying?"
He doesn't take it that well.
***
"Kids, Ms. Patterson will see you now."
They each hold one of Laura's hands, going in. Laura takes deep breaths.
***
She's on a date with Kevin (milkshakes), when her phone rings. "Chad? What do you want?"
"Oh boy."
She feels bad, because she's pretty sure Kevin only does it because he'd rather have that than nothing. But then--why else did Chad call her, either?
***
"So you've all been going out... together?" Ms. Patterson says. "Do I have that right?"
"No!" Chad says, and Kevin is hot on his heels. "Not together."
"We're not gay."
"Laura, explain--"
"Huh?" Laura shakes her head. "Um--sorry. I was somewhere else."
(It was a happy place.)
***
"You can break up with me, you know," Kevin says. She wishes he didn't sound so pathetic. It's kind of...
Pathetic.
"I don't want to, oh my God," she says. "Why would I put up with this if I didn't want to."
"I mean, you don't have to be afraid of hurting my feelings."
"Kevin. I like you. A lot. You were the one I started all this for, remember?"
"Yeah, but you weren't happy with... just me."
Kevin." She rubs her temples. "Please, just... believe me."
***
"All right, boys. I think this can be cleared up," Ms. Patterson said. "You're... friends. Right?"
They look at each other. Shrug. Nod.
"Okay. And sometimes friends... look out for each other. It would've been much better if either of you had gotten an adult," she says sternly. "But... boys will be boys. You'll both have detention, of course."
"And our parents don't have to know about--" Kevin says, trailing off.
"I don't care if they do," Chad says, posturing. But he looks relieved.
"No, I don't see why they would. Laura, can you stay and talk to me a little bit, though?"
***
"Look, we need to talk about this," Chad says. She wants to scream.
"I can't do this again, Chad. I can't. You're in or you're out, okay? In or out."
"I need something, Laura. Something. To show me you're not just dragging me along behind you."
***
"Laura, it seems to me like you're the one holding this little triad together. Would you say that's right?"
"I 'unno." She shrugs.
"Well--the boys wouldn't have done this on their own. Is that right."
***
"Which one is your girlfriend?"
"The one in my letterman jacket, duh."
"The one sitting next to that Korean kid?"
"Yeah, I guess. Whatever, dude."
"They look pretty cozy."
"Yeah, I'm real scared of an eighth grade nerdbox stealing my girl, Ferguson."
***
She sighs. "Yeah."
"It must be stressful, keeping all this going."
She nods.
***
"If she's your girlfriend, why does she wear that guy's jacket?"
"Why don't you shut up, Ryan?"
"Just answer the question, man."
"I'm pretty sure your girlfriend is, like, your hand," Kevin says, the closest he gets to wit. "So why don't you shut up."
"Are you sure she's really your girlfriend?"
"Hey guys!"
An uneasy chorus. "Hey Laura."
"Hi, Kevin." She grabs him.
"Laura Bailey. That is not appropriate to the lunchroom." Mr. Harris, an English teacher, pretty much drags her off of him.
***
There are no uniforms; there are lockers, and dances in the gym, not private hotels. There is, here outside the school office, a long wooden bench where troublemakers awaiting their doom can contemplate what has brought them to this pass. It looks more like a TV set of an ordinary American high school than an ordinary American high school--no graffiti, no door torn off the lockers, and this bench doesn't get a lot of occupants--but that's good enough.
There are three kids on this bench; one of is from the high school, tall and athletic in a wiry way. He's in ninth grade. The other two are eighth graders; a small Asian boy in glasses and a pretty-but-gawky girl with honey-colored skin, draped in a letterman jacket that's far too big for her skinny frame.
"You are so dumb," Laura Bailey tells them. "Dumb, dumb, dumb boys."
***
"Hey--um, hey Laura?"
She pauses in the doorway, her friends waiting up for her; a thousand sof adolescent girl-stares nailing him to the spot.
"Yeah?"
"D-do you have a date to the dance Friday?" Kevin Park stutters out.
She smiles--whenever she smiles it's like the sun coming out; Kevin Park is not a poet (words are hard) but he wishes he could be. He's only fourteen. Then she nods, and his heart hits his tennis shoes.
"Okay," he says quietly.
Laura smacks his arm. "You. Duh." Then she darts off to catch up with her friends, who are twittering about it.
He doesn't care. (His arm kind of hurts. He doesn't care about that, either.) "Hooray!" he tries saying.
No, that was stupid. But his grin--while maybe not as illuminating as Laura's--is pretty wide going home.
***
"I mean, I'm not even surprised about you," she tells the older boy. "But you're supposed to be the smart one, Kevin. I don't need two stupid boyfriends! One is enough!"
Kevin already looks low; now he's trying to climb into his own collar.
To Chad: "And I don't know what you're looking so smug about, dumbass. God. What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking, wow, Laura's going to be pissed if I just stand here and watch Ferguson beat the crap out of her--out of this guy."
***
"So I have a date to the dance Friday," she mentions. They're getting a slice on the walk home.
"Hah, you're funny."
"I'm not joking," she says. Mmm, extra cheese.
"You can't go to the dance with someone else." Chad is indignant.
"You said you didn't want to go. You said it was a dumb middle school baby dance and you had better things to do. I want to go, someone asked me." She shrugs, chews.
"Okay, fine, if it's such a big deal, I'll take you."
She shakes her head. "Too late, I already told Kevin I'd go with him."
"You can't go to the dance with someone else."
"Well... I'm gonna." You can't let boys boss you around.
"Well, we have to break up then."
She shrugs. "Okay."
"Whatever." He kicks the table.
"What does that mean, whatever?"
"Whatever, go with your little middle school friend. I don't care."
"Okay. Are we broken up?" Chew chew chew.
"No. Do you want to break up?"
She shakes her head; beams. "No, I'm fine."
***
"Kevin," she says, "you have to lie."
"What!?" Chad grimaces. "That's bull."
"You don't understand about his mother." Kevin looks terrified; silent.
"I'm not scared," Chad says. "There's no rule about it."
"His parents will pull him out of the school, Chad."
"What?"
"They barely can stand that I have a girlfriend," Kevin whispers.
"Jeez."
"I don't want to lie," Kevin says, quietly. "I'm not sorry."
Laura looks sick; so does Chad a little bit. "Maybe you should, dude. I will, too. That way it's fair. It was all just a bunch of rumors."
"No, that's dumb," Laura says. "That doesn't make any sense at all."
***
"I had a really good time," Kevin says. She's holding his hand, and he's acutely aware that it's sweating. He wishes it would stop.
"I did too!" she says. "I never knew you were so cool, Kevin. You're always so quiet."
"I'm not cool," he says. He's having a wonderful night--a dream-come-true night--but he's not delusional.
"Maybe not cool-cool," she admits. "But you know so much stuff I don't! And you get so excited about it, it's totally cute." He gets very pink.
He wonders if he should kiss her. She looks troubled, though, so he doesn't.
***
The boys are arguing; as far as Laura can tell, they've completely switched positions on everything by now.
"Omigod," she says. "Fine. Look. Let's just tell Ms. Patterson everything. The truth is the simplest thing."
"It's not that simple," Chad sulks.
***
"You what?"
"I really like him," she says, twisting her fingers. This is different than telling him about the dance.
"So you're breaking up with me?" Chad sounds... disbelieving. For an eighth grader??
"I don't want to," she says, her voice small.
"What--what are you saying?"
He doesn't take it that well.
***
"Kids, Ms. Patterson will see you now."
They each hold one of Laura's hands, going in. Laura takes deep breaths.
***
She's on a date with Kevin (milkshakes), when her phone rings. "Chad? What do you want?"
"Oh boy."
She feels bad, because she's pretty sure Kevin only does it because he'd rather have that than nothing. But then--why else did Chad call her, either?
***
"So you've all been going out... together?" Ms. Patterson says. "Do I have that right?"
"No!" Chad says, and Kevin is hot on his heels. "Not together."
"We're not gay."
"Laura, explain--"
"Huh?" Laura shakes her head. "Um--sorry. I was somewhere else."
(It was a happy place.)
***
"You can break up with me, you know," Kevin says. She wishes he didn't sound so pathetic. It's kind of...
Pathetic.
"I don't want to, oh my God," she says. "Why would I put up with this if I didn't want to."
"I mean, you don't have to be afraid of hurting my feelings."
"Kevin. I like you. A lot. You were the one I started all this for, remember?"
"Yeah, but you weren't happy with... just me."
Kevin." She rubs her temples. "Please, just... believe me."
***
"All right, boys. I think this can be cleared up," Ms. Patterson said. "You're... friends. Right?"
They look at each other. Shrug. Nod.
"Okay. And sometimes friends... look out for each other. It would've been much better if either of you had gotten an adult," she says sternly. "But... boys will be boys. You'll both have detention, of course."
"And our parents don't have to know about--" Kevin says, trailing off.
"I don't care if they do," Chad says, posturing. But he looks relieved.
"No, I don't see why they would. Laura, can you stay and talk to me a little bit, though?"
***
"Look, we need to talk about this," Chad says. She wants to scream.
"I can't do this again, Chad. I can't. You're in or you're out, okay? In or out."
"I need something, Laura. Something. To show me you're not just dragging me along behind you."
***
"Laura, it seems to me like you're the one holding this little triad together. Would you say that's right?"
"I 'unno." She shrugs.
"Well--the boys wouldn't have done this on their own. Is that right."
***
"Which one is your girlfriend?"
"The one in my letterman jacket, duh."
"The one sitting next to that Korean kid?"
"Yeah, I guess. Whatever, dude."
"They look pretty cozy."
"Yeah, I'm real scared of an eighth grade nerdbox stealing my girl, Ferguson."
***
She sighs. "Yeah."
"It must be stressful, keeping all this going."
She nods.
***
"If she's your girlfriend, why does she wear that guy's jacket?"
"Why don't you shut up, Ryan?"
"Just answer the question, man."
"I'm pretty sure your girlfriend is, like, your hand," Kevin says, the closest he gets to wit. "So why don't you shut up."
"Are you sure she's really your girlfriend?"
"Hey guys!"
An uneasy chorus. "Hey Laura."
"Hi, Kevin." She grabs him.
"Laura Bailey. That is not appropriate to the lunchroom." Mr. Harris, an English teacher, pretty much drags her off of him.
***
Timelines are the enemy
Dec. 27th, 2008 10:16 pm1987 - Susannah comes to White Plains. She's 30. Eddie is twenty-five. Jake is... twenty?
1991 - Rose is born
1994 - Zora is born
2008 - now. Rose is 17.
2010? - Rose quits school, vanishes into KSR
2012? - Alice begins as a probational firefighter
2015 - Zora graduates, comes to NYC. Jake Toren dies? Somewhere in here. Alice can't be reached.
2016 (spring) - Zora and Alice meet. Zora is 22.
2017? (spring/summer) Zora leaves Alice
2017 (fall) Alice tells Zora; returns to White Plains shortly after.
2018 (summer) Susannah dies. Approx. 60.
2019 (summer) Alice starts coming to Milliways. Alice is 28.
2019 (Christmas) - Alice and Zora reconcile
2020 - Alice makes lieutenant
2023 - Alice and Zora marry
2025? - twins are born
2028? - Eddie Toren dies? 65 or so.
2028 - Allen is born
2031 - Laura is born; X joins the tet.
2032 - Wren (nicknamed and often called Eddie) is born
2039 - Allen is eleven; not a gunslinger.
2040 - Wren is adopted. Alice makes Captain? Somewhere in here.
2042 - Laura is 11; twins are 17; Allen is 14; Eddie is 10. Michael passes his trial in the fall?
2043 - Robert fails his trial, nine months after Michael passes.
2044 - Robert dies. He's 19.
2047 - Laura is 16. Alice cuts off her arm. She's 56? X goes home.
1991 - Rose is born
1994 - Zora is born
2008 - now. Rose is 17.
2010? - Rose quits school, vanishes into KSR
2012? - Alice begins as a probational firefighter
2015 - Zora graduates, comes to NYC. Jake Toren dies? Somewhere in here. Alice can't be reached.
2016 (spring) - Zora and Alice meet. Zora is 22.
2017? (spring/summer) Zora leaves Alice
2017 (fall) Alice tells Zora; returns to White Plains shortly after.
2018 (summer) Susannah dies. Approx. 60.
2019 (summer) Alice starts coming to Milliways. Alice is 28.
2019 (Christmas) - Alice and Zora reconcile
2020 - Alice makes lieutenant
2023 - Alice and Zora marry
2025? - twins are born
2028? - Eddie Toren dies? 65 or so.
2028 - Allen is born
2031 - Laura is born; X joins the tet.
2032 - Wren (nicknamed and often called Eddie) is born
2039 - Allen is eleven; not a gunslinger.
2040 - Wren is adopted. Alice makes Captain? Somewhere in here.
2042 - Laura is 11; twins are 17; Allen is 14; Eddie is 10. Michael passes his trial in the fall?
2043 - Robert fails his trial, nine months after Michael passes.
2044 - Robert dies. He's 19.
2047 - Laura is 16. Alice cuts off her arm. She's 56? X goes home.
zora/alice, 7 of 7, for now
Dec. 27th, 2008 07:50 amI woke up before her for once. She was sleeping the way I'd seen people sleep in hospitals, sometimes; the body simply shuts everything down in favor of S L E E P. Something just short of a coma.
I had time to think about what came next; I made a sandwich with tuna salad I had bought and ate it while I did, and while I watched her. At this point, any reasonable person would have questions to ask. I don't know if 'reasonable' is the word for twenty-two and halfway in love already, but still, I was curious. (Not frightened, although maybe I should have been. Only curious.) But if I really was--
It seemed to me then that if I wanted to know, the worst thing I could do was ask. Because she would not answer. A door would shut, and I would be on the wrong side of it. I could ask if I wanted--if I wanted to make a point of principle, that if she was going to ask me to be here she owed me an explanation--but if I did that I would kill all my answers. If I wanted to know, I needed to not ask, I decided. Just wait. Pay attention.
We're getting there, Alice had said. We were learning each other, not with questions, but bit by bit. I watched her sleep, and learned a little more.
I had never seen anyone wake up that way. There was no in-between. She was asleep, then she was awake, and there was no confusion over where she was or who was in her room, either. She was just awake, and smiling at me. As she sat up, The Lord, who was sleeping by her feet, darted off. They never really liked each other, but sleep was an undeclared peace.
"What time is it?"
"After four," I said. I was sitting on top of the covers, dressed, and I didn't even have a book or anything; it was obvious I'd been watching her sleep.
"I need a shower." She rolled out of the bed, and I could see things I hadn't been able to before. She was dirty, and battered--bruises like dark stains on her skin. She moved stiffly. There was a weal like a rope burn under one breast, and it looked like her wrist was burned, around the tattoo. Char-colored. When she came out of the shower, wearing one towel and carrying two I'd left on the floor, she already moved more fluidly, however, and the darkness on her wrist had washed away after all. She dropped the towels into a hamper, and picked up one of my sweaters off the floor with her toes. I tended to wear them baggy--still do--and it fit her well enough for the purpose. "Ahhh."
She beamed at me. "Hello." Whatever had brought her home wrapped in darkness had been slept away or washed away or maybe stroked away by my hands. "Are you starving? We can order something."
"I bought groceries," I said, and she nodded.
"I'll cook something." Spoken like a woman who had seen my kitchen.
I followed her into the kitchen, and perched on a chair to watch. She put two chicken cutlets in a saucepan with red wine, and began to cook them; she added things as she went to make a sauce. I don't think she was working from a recipe. She didn't know what I had bought. She was just making it up as she went along. She was humming a song, something I didn't know, and I was sure that was the first time I'd heard her do any such thing. Improbably, she seemed to be in a fantastic mood.
"Sorry I slept the day away," she said. "I have to work third watch tomorrow, too. So I won't be home until midnight." The way she said home manifestly included me.
"That's the dangerous one, isn't it?"
"Well, it's the busy one." She cut up a mushroom while we talked; her hands were a blur. I didn't understand how she didn't cut herself. "I have three days on that, then another two days off. Twenty-four in five, that's the rule. Overnights are long shifts, because the second half of the third watch is the busiest." My head swam.
"That's all right," I said. "I have to go back to my apartment tomorrow anyway." I watched her, and she didn't turn. If she had, to give me the puppy-dog eyes or say anything at all, I suppose everything would be different. But she just went on humming, and reached back to tug the hem of the sweater back down. It kept creeping up.
"To bring more clothes over, I mean," I added. "And my hairdryer. Yours is terrible. Some of The Lord's stuff."
It's funny how we get old. Some of the best decisions of my life would horrify me, if my children made them.
I crossed the kitchen floor and leaned my head against her arm. "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?" I said. I don't remember how my voice sounded, but I wasn't frightened. Never frightened.
Alice spooned up some of the sauce. "Try this," she said. "It's delicious."
It was, too.
I had time to think about what came next; I made a sandwich with tuna salad I had bought and ate it while I did, and while I watched her. At this point, any reasonable person would have questions to ask. I don't know if 'reasonable' is the word for twenty-two and halfway in love already, but still, I was curious. (Not frightened, although maybe I should have been. Only curious.) But if I really was--
It seemed to me then that if I wanted to know, the worst thing I could do was ask. Because she would not answer. A door would shut, and I would be on the wrong side of it. I could ask if I wanted--if I wanted to make a point of principle, that if she was going to ask me to be here she owed me an explanation--but if I did that I would kill all my answers. If I wanted to know, I needed to not ask, I decided. Just wait. Pay attention.
We're getting there, Alice had said. We were learning each other, not with questions, but bit by bit. I watched her sleep, and learned a little more.
I had never seen anyone wake up that way. There was no in-between. She was asleep, then she was awake, and there was no confusion over where she was or who was in her room, either. She was just awake, and smiling at me. As she sat up, The Lord, who was sleeping by her feet, darted off. They never really liked each other, but sleep was an undeclared peace.
"What time is it?"
"After four," I said. I was sitting on top of the covers, dressed, and I didn't even have a book or anything; it was obvious I'd been watching her sleep.
"I need a shower." She rolled out of the bed, and I could see things I hadn't been able to before. She was dirty, and battered--bruises like dark stains on her skin. She moved stiffly. There was a weal like a rope burn under one breast, and it looked like her wrist was burned, around the tattoo. Char-colored. When she came out of the shower, wearing one towel and carrying two I'd left on the floor, she already moved more fluidly, however, and the darkness on her wrist had washed away after all. She dropped the towels into a hamper, and picked up one of my sweaters off the floor with her toes. I tended to wear them baggy--still do--and it fit her well enough for the purpose. "Ahhh."
She beamed at me. "Hello." Whatever had brought her home wrapped in darkness had been slept away or washed away or maybe stroked away by my hands. "Are you starving? We can order something."
"I bought groceries," I said, and she nodded.
"I'll cook something." Spoken like a woman who had seen my kitchen.
I followed her into the kitchen, and perched on a chair to watch. She put two chicken cutlets in a saucepan with red wine, and began to cook them; she added things as she went to make a sauce. I don't think she was working from a recipe. She didn't know what I had bought. She was just making it up as she went along. She was humming a song, something I didn't know, and I was sure that was the first time I'd heard her do any such thing. Improbably, she seemed to be in a fantastic mood.
"Sorry I slept the day away," she said. "I have to work third watch tomorrow, too. So I won't be home until midnight." The way she said home manifestly included me.
"That's the dangerous one, isn't it?"
"Well, it's the busy one." She cut up a mushroom while we talked; her hands were a blur. I didn't understand how she didn't cut herself. "I have three days on that, then another two days off. Twenty-four in five, that's the rule. Overnights are long shifts, because the second half of the third watch is the busiest." My head swam.
"That's all right," I said. "I have to go back to my apartment tomorrow anyway." I watched her, and she didn't turn. If she had, to give me the puppy-dog eyes or say anything at all, I suppose everything would be different. But she just went on humming, and reached back to tug the hem of the sweater back down. It kept creeping up.
"To bring more clothes over, I mean," I added. "And my hairdryer. Yours is terrible. Some of The Lord's stuff."
It's funny how we get old. Some of the best decisions of my life would horrify me, if my children made them.
I crossed the kitchen floor and leaned my head against her arm. "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?" I said. I don't remember how my voice sounded, but I wasn't frightened. Never frightened.
Alice spooned up some of the sauce. "Try this," she said. "It's delicious."
It was, too.
