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 |  My first ever Writing.com journal. |
| the other tutor on duty is crying subtle, but noisy, i-just-had-a-fight-with-my-boyfriend tears. i asked if she was okay, offered her a handful of cardboard-hard government tissue, took the first couple students who came in to give her a minute to herself. we're not exactly friends but still, it kind of sucks that she won't look at me, give me some indication of what to do. i hate not being able to help. in other news, it's still my birthday, officially my birthday as of twelve minutes ago. thus far i've taken about a thousand excedrins, anal-raped my formal logic test (to be as vulgar as possible, which i'm allowed to do because it is my birthday), finally gotten those flyers stamped and broken the only still-functional typewriter in the writing center. so. ups and downs. the best is yet to come. i also came up with a stupid, immature and mildly bitchy concept for the next incarnation of my journal. woot for that. ***** "You do know," she says, dipping into the yellow, "that this means I'm going to be totally unhelpful from now on." He nods but doesn't look at her; Kai is wrist-deep in seasnail purple and he can't turn away for a second, can't risk her plunging sticky fingers into her curious mouth. "I figured," he says, watching the kid slap vibrant handprints onto a miniature canvas of her own. "Like I said, I wanted you to have an outlet. You need a break from all this...from all of this. You've been edgy lately." He regrets the observation as soon as it's out, but she isn't offended. "I've been sick," she murmurs, streaking yellow along the left edge of her painting. "Barfing again. I don't know why." Aaron swallows his alarm and helps Kai choose another color. They've found a truer blue (berries from the eastern part of the island), and, by combining it with the existing yellow, a more reliable green. Kendal green. It seems to be Kailani's favorite, though she's fascinated by the consistency of the purple. All of her creations thus far have consisted of only those two colors, purple and green. Shannon sits back and surveys her efforts, then turns to evaluate her daughter's. "Mine sucks," she whines. "Hers is better." Aaron looks, quickly. "You're too stilted with it," he says, and for the second time immediately regrets his words. "You need to kind of...let it flow through you. Let the brush do the talking. You be the instrument." She looks up at his magnum opus, still up on its easel. "Is that what happened, with you?" "I already told you what happened." She nods. "Well then." She dips her fingertip into the orange, hops up, and, before he can stop her, makes a lightning-quick adjustment to his sunset painting. His mouth drops open. "You--!" She smiles angelically. "It was reaching out to me," she taunts, and takes off down the beach. * He can't chase her because of Kai, so he sits back, ever-so-slightly pissed off, stealing the occasional glance up at his altered creation. On the fourth glance, he gets it. "Ohhhhhhh," he whispers. "Pee," adds Kailani, helpfully. * She wakes a parent, these days, to announce the need to relieve herself. "I potty," she tells Aaron, pounding his chest with insistent fists. "I potty!" Superlatively inarticulate in times of crisis. "Past or future tense?" he grumbles, forcing himself awake. She dances urgently at his side, wide-eyed, and he nods. "Okay, okay. Don't wake Mommy." Nick of time. Seven minutes later they return, sticky from the unusually hot night, to find Shannon still asleep but uncovered, having kicked all the blankets to one side. Kailani runs ahead of Aaron and gives the exposed belly a gentle pat and a kiss, the way he's shown her. "Hi, baby," she bubbles. Then, to Aaron, "The totonut is so big." "So big," he repeats, yawning but amused. "Still with that?" Then he gets her little joke, laughs softly as she does the same. She's right, it's starting to look rather like a ripening coconut, smooth and honey-colored and increasingly round. "Coconut, huh?" he murmurs, grabbing her around the waist, flipping her head-over-heels back into bed. Kisses her forehead, massages her curls till her eyes fall shut. "Smart girl," he whispers, kissing her. * Shannon is sick in the morning, a little green in the face. Instead of edgy, though, it makes her sensitive, apologetic. "I'm sorry about your painting," she says, handing him a plate of eggs. A peace offering. He accepts the food, declines the apology. "Don't be. I like it better your way." He watches as she starts to feed Kailani, noting her complexion, her deliberate movements. "Not eating?" he guesses. She shakes her head, touches her belly. "Too much going on, today. Anything I eat's likely to get trampled." Kailani scarfs down her food, leaving only a couple of berries behind. "One, two!" she counts proudly, holding them up like trophies. |
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