You ask, “Did you like it?” He never looks at you, but then neither did Father, and you’ve accepted your pathetic need for approval.
Your brother says, “Not at all,” and it stings.
Your fingers twitch for a the nearest cooking-worthy weapon.
“Really? I thought it was at least halfway decent.” Your boyfriend is hardly any help.
“Halfway decent?” You manage to keep the hurt out of your voice, keep drying the dishes. “That’s not really flattering.”
“Were you asking for flattery? Because last night you insisted on a whole lot of honesty --” Your boyfriend goes on the defensive, wicked, mischievous.
It does the trick. You smile. “I wasn’t talking about last night, and you know it!” You fling the tea-towel at him, but he catches it mid-air, damn his reflexes. He has amazing hands - you learned that last night on the couch, mid-kisses, but you’ll never tell your brother.
“Did I really? Because all I heard was a question, ‘did you like it?’ And judging by your tone, you wanted honesty --” Your boyfriend looks at your brother, and you can sense the anxiety, the fear in him of one finds out that the other has been up to.
Your brother’s “Now, now, children” is obnoxiously reminiscent of your father, and you wish he’d look away from the newspaper at least once this morning.
“Don’t even start with the children. Please. Not this morning.” Your best friend looks ill and tired, but it’s all her own fault. “I never want to see another human being under the age of fourteen for the rest of my life.”
If she weren’t so pretty and popular she’d be easier to like, sometimes, because your brother actually looks at her.
“Don’t you teach first grade?” Your brother hardly sounds sympathetic, but it means something, that he actually knows what her occupation his.
Your boyfriend - her brother - is genuinely unsympathetic. “A little hung over, are we?” Still, she is your friend, and you glare at him in her defense.
“Not so hung over I can’t pound you into the ground.” You know that sound, and a bruising is sure to follow.
“I’d like to see that.” Your boyfriend plays the macho bravo, but you know they all know who’d win.
Still, you love him and his antics, because he has a brave heart. You say, “So would I.”
(397 words)
1 comment:
Second person perspective is interesting. I know I screwed it up. But seeing yours helps quite a bit.
Sorry I have been light on commenting this week. I've been really busy.
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