Nightingale, quiet suitor, tortured tongueless in the night’s echo, your vibrant feathers lay scattered upon the kitchen floor's marble, your destiny: decadent delicacy dripping down the fat man’s chin.
Destiny hopped up on the kitchen counter next to you and
watched as you finished making Roman’s lunch. Her only reason for being there
was to simply remind you that you, unlike Roman Godfrey, were a good person.
“All I’m saying is that this boy does not deserve you.”
Destiny muttered as she munched on a piece of lettuce.
“You’ve made that very clear D, but I still don’t care.” You
hummed as you packed it up and skipped to the front door, waiting for Destiny
to follow you.
“Fine but when it all goes wrong I’m going to say I told you
so every morning.” You said with a faint smile.
So one of the things I know about my mother is that at some point in her life she has had an abortion. Sometimes I think about the potential third sibling, but - and this is important - I don’t feel any sort of loss or sadness about them, nor do I resent my mother in any way for that decision she made back then. I don’t know her reasons and even if I did, it’s not my place to judge.
The only reason I really wonder about it is because I like to speculate idly on what-ifs and might-have-beens, generally as one might plot a story. What if there had been a third sibling? What if my parents had never divorced? What if I’d never read Anne of Green Gables? What if I’d had toast for breakfast yesterday instead of Weetos?
OK, maybe some events in life are not as life-changing as others, but then again, that’s the point, I did have Weetos yesterday, so I’ll never know. If I’d had toast I might have accidentally set fire to the kitchen or stabbed myself with the bread knife. So it’s a good thing I didn’t!
“Sure, yeah. I’ll admit that in retrospect I can see how it might have been disrespectful. But look: how was I supposed to know? You carry some dainty little scrap of fabric around on your hip, you can’t get mad if a girl thinks it’s a hand towel. ‘Specially when it’s in such a convenient spot. Least I didn’t blow my nose on it.”
I love that after the ‘Hello Patrick’, 'Hello Shelagh’ exchange in this scene, the next thing you hear is a tiny little 'AHJFWDVPX’ gulping noise from her (a gulp-ette?)
It’s like she’s getting adorably flustered just because he’s addressing her by her real name. Bless. :)