Well, she slowed down. Didn't slam on the breaks, but at least she hesitated, asked, and let me kiss her, but this is a more comfortable pace, for me. I like her, she's beautiful, and honestly the first thing I noticed wasn't her height.
It was her posture. She slouches, partially because she has to duck through doorways barefoot, but honestly she dragged herself around with such a depressive air, I most wondered what it was that made her feel that way. All the time, she doesn't dress like some teenage Goth, she wore a modest dress today, but once you see her in a crowd, she stands out. And she's painfully self conscious about it, because apparently everyone seems to feel the need to constantly remind her that she's tall. She knows, believe me, she got the memo. If anyone is aware of it, that would be her.
"Huh!' Now she's smiling, and I can feel her face. Again, this time dry, unmade-up, no tears, just a wry smile, and a contended breath. Happiness, I made her happy, and that's all I wanted. To start, this was a start, but a moment I wanted to remember, especially. "Still a little tender?" I looked back and forth, but the asymmetry, is honestly beautiful. To me, I know that now they're even using symmetry as a quantifiable metric of beauty. Normal beauty, typical beauty, but that's for normal people. They don't like unique, they don't even want to be unique individuals, even though we all are.
Not all people, but more than enough. They use the term Snowflake as an insult. How dare you feel special? "We better put some ice on it, you have any asprin, or other Nsaids in the house?"
"Ibuprophen, or Advil, in the medicine cabinet." I didn't look. I looked for the advil bottle, but sure enough, it was behind a tall prescription bottle for Sinequan (Doxepin HCL) An anti-depressant. "Huh!" I rinsed out the washcloth, with hot water to soften up the grease base, and hung it up. "Here," she picked up the unused glass of water to wash it down, while I went in the kitchen. "Where do you keep the ziplocs?"
"In the cabinet on the left. Of the sink, over by the refridgerator?"
"Got it," cracked out ice trays.
"Thanks so much for taking care of me. Along with everything."
"Forget about it, just relax." She leanded back, and held it to her cheek.
"So, where do you know. Harv is it?" She closed her eyes. "Harvey from?"
"I'm going to have to call him, and. Go get my stuff. We live together. Well, I don't think I can live with him now, or face him, after this. If you want to press charges, I'll testify as a witness."
"No, I don't. I want to forget about it, but. He's dangerous."
"I know, I. Don't know, I thought I knew him, better than that, but. Huh! I guess not. Huh! You know, he liked me, because I'm shorter then him."
"Yeah? I didn't notice, but it makes sense."
"If you don't mind me," changing the subject, "Asking, why do you work in a day-care?" Again. It helps to dance around our issues. No hurry, we got the truly important, and potentially painful stuff out of the way, so we can talk about it. She could talk about Harv, until it got too painful, but we can come back to it.
"You know, children don't care?" She shrugged, "I suppose because everyone, or at least any adult looks tall to them, so they don't even seem to notice. Ironically, they treat me better than most adults. I mean, sometimes one of them says something like 'You're funny looking,' but it's not as hurtful coming from a child, because they don't mean anything by it. They just don't know what to say."
"I guess we have higher standards for grownups. So, it almost feels like a betrayal, when they act ignorant, and. You're right, actually it isn't childish or immature. Children don't act that way, so it's actually pretty wrong to call it immature when adults do." At least I never heard of a little boy attacking a little girl, and forcing her to feel him up, because she was taller than him.
"Weird, yeah. Adults are so weird." she thought, "So, you work out with him?"
"Yeah, they're his weights, but I have to. He doesn't know about my, childhood. He's a personal trainer, and a bodybuilder, but I just have to maintain the muscle mass, I already have."
"Huh!' She pulled the ice bag off, and held it in her hands. "Do i have to keep this on?"
"No, actually I think it helps to apply it for a little while, and check to see the swelling." I looked, back, and forth. "I'm not a nurse, medical student, but, going for my PsyD. This is basically first aid, but I don't think you're going to need to see a doctor. Does it feel any different?"
"Yeah, a little numb, but." She rubbed my shirt. "You wanna take your shirt off?"
"Huh! Sure." I sat back, and pulled it over my head. brushed the top of my hair real quick to feel how it messed it up.
"Huh!" She felt my scars. Gently, just barely brushing her fingertips out. "Did you get these from, surgery?"
"Mastectomies," same distateful expression, "I couldn't stand them really, but. You don't mind?"
"Oh, no. You can touch me." She made a face, and put the ice pack up to cover it. "Ow, it started hurting again."
"That's right, just hold it up until it goes numb, and then take it off until it starts to hurt again until the anti-inflammatory kicks in." I nodded, and slipped the straps off her shoulders. "Here." Held the bag up, so she could slip her arm out, and sit up, topless except for her bra.
"I forget what it's called, but." I felt her sternum, over her heart.
"Oh, this?" She felt it too, "Uh," had to think. Literally looking up to remember, "Pectus ecavitum, I think. My caved in chest?"
"Yeah, I think that's it." With her bra on, and the dress hanging over it, especially the way she slouches, and walks hunched over, you could mistake it for cleavage, but it goes deeper than, well her sternum normally would be. "Here," I felt around her side, and she picked up her arms. The ice sloshed in the bag in her hand, but I felt the clasp in the back, and unhooked it.
"Huh!" She looked up, and closed her eyes, tilting her head in the universal gesture for kiss me, so I did. Feeling up and down her back, she held the bag in her lap, but turned the way she was. No, it wasn't just her shoulder blades, her ribs were out of line, and tracing them in, they didn't meet in the middle. "Huh!" She sat back, and shifted uncomfortably, but also held up the ice to cover it. "Hm."
"I know, you're self conscious about your body, too."
"My deformities?"
"Oh, I don't like, calling them that."
"That's what they are, you want to look them up? I've got some paperwork from my doctors, listing all of my deformities, so you can read all about them."
"Yes, but those would just be the dry, clinical words they have for the general complex of conditions, as they understand them, but they wouldn't be you. Your body, your cheeks, and jaw. Your sternum, and spine. Scholiosis for instance, All that would tell me is that your spine is out of symmetry, but it wouldn't show me the beautiful curve it forms. Out of context, it wouldn't even hint at how it affects your ribs, your scapulae, turn around."
"God, how do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Say something, as horrible as Scholiosis, and talk about it, and yet make it sound sexy?"
"Because it is. It's you, it's what makes you you, instead of someone else, or one of those boring girls that have anything different polished off, and painted over."
"Like the cracks in the sidewalk."
"No, like the one, and only crack, in the sidewalk to remind me of the first time you put your arm around me."
"Huh!"
I felt down her spine, with my thumbs, and brushed my fingertips around her scapulae to feel her ribs expand as she took another breath, and sighed.
;
Author.
Okay, amend that to a More normal love-life.