Read Online Incapable (Love Triumphs Book 3) by Ainslie Paton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ainslie Paton
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have taken a joke answer. She should’ve said she liked cake decorating and collected souvenir spoons. She’d lost the knack for banter a long time ago, she no longer had the words to fill in the fun bits, couldn’t join the dots between one amusing sentence and another to form a friendship.
“I’m ready when you are, Damon.”
He voiced the content, stopping often to correct his phrasing, perfect a paragraph. Working only from his memory and audio prompts from his software. She’d never seen that done before. He sipped on lemon water Lauren provided, and there was very little for Georgia to do but watch him and the voice levels and stew in the rancid juices of her own social ineptitude.
At the end of the session, Damon rubbed his neck, packed up his gear and came through the door to the control room. “Okay?”
“All good.” She stood and got the next door for him. “Do you need us to call you a taxi?”
“No. I’m fine. See you tomorrow.”
She watched him go down the corridor, open the last door and exit into reception. As he turned, he had a ready smile for Lauren. A nicer person would’ve gone with him, held the door, insisted on helping him to a taxi. But Damon didn’t define himself as his disease and she wasn’t going to be a nice person for him. She’d engineer his sound quality, but she’d master her own self-preservation.
7: Sorting Colours
“When you’re ready, Damon.”
He was rip-snorting ready to crack the problem of Georgia. She was the single most interesting thing in his life right now. He stood at the lectern and looked out towards the control room. “I’m thinking about getting a dog.” He hadn’t been until this moment, but it must’ve been wagging the tail of his subconscious. At least it was a decent conversation opener, who didn’t like dogs?
No response.
He scratched his head. She was so walled off and he couldn’t work out whether he’d offended beyond repair with that kiss to her hand, or she simply didn’t like him. Had that happened before? Probably, inevitably, but it wasn’t something he was aware of. Most people were better fakers than Georgia. And given who he was, the way he was, the tendency to overplay polite was high. Everyone was frightened of giving offence and surprised he had a sense of humour.
But not Georgia. Not that she was offensive exactly, she didn’t tiptoe around him, but she was terminally terrible at polite social discourse. She was easier with Trent and the other Avocado people he’d met, but she was still oddly self-contained. Either Lauren was right, and Georgia was a gold class snob, in which case his developing obsession with her was a hopeless thing and he’d tire of it, or there was a thread he could pull to unwind her. He wanted to find that end, untwist it from its spool and unwrap Georgia so he could see the real her.
Or go blind trying.
“Georgia, have you ever owned a dog?”
“No. Damon, can you keep talking for a moment, please?”
“Talking, my specialty. I’m not sure how it would work for travelling, but yes, apparently I’m thinking about a dog. They’re incredibly helpful, but not right for everyone. We had them on the farm where I grew up of course, working dogs. You know, they’ve developed a washing machine that dogs can load and start with a bark. Amazing, right. I need to do my homework before it’s anything more than an idea.”
“Ready now, Damon.”
“It’s your turn.” He waited. She’d answer because it was her job to get along with him, not because she wanted to play.
“I never had pets.”
“Not even a goldfish?”
“No.”
“As a kid did you want one? Most kids want pets. Were you most kids?”
“I wanted a kitten.”
He shuddered, then laughed. That was almost witty, given he’d told her he didn’t like cats, did she realise? “Ah, kittens, they have a habit of growing into cats. Cats are creepy, slink around, minds of their own. Trip you over one minute, want your
“I’m ready when you are, Damon.”
He voiced the content, stopping often to correct his phrasing, perfect a paragraph. Working only from his memory and audio prompts from his software. She’d never seen that done before. He sipped on lemon water Lauren provided, and there was very little for Georgia to do but watch him and the voice levels and stew in the rancid juices of her own social ineptitude.
At the end of the session, Damon rubbed his neck, packed up his gear and came through the door to the control room. “Okay?”
“All good.” She stood and got the next door for him. “Do you need us to call you a taxi?”
“No. I’m fine. See you tomorrow.”
She watched him go down the corridor, open the last door and exit into reception. As he turned, he had a ready smile for Lauren. A nicer person would’ve gone with him, held the door, insisted on helping him to a taxi. But Damon didn’t define himself as his disease and she wasn’t going to be a nice person for him. She’d engineer his sound quality, but she’d master her own self-preservation.
7: Sorting Colours
“When you’re ready, Damon.”
He was rip-snorting ready to crack the problem of Georgia. She was the single most interesting thing in his life right now. He stood at the lectern and looked out towards the control room. “I’m thinking about getting a dog.” He hadn’t been until this moment, but it must’ve been wagging the tail of his subconscious. At least it was a decent conversation opener, who didn’t like dogs?
No response.
He scratched his head. She was so walled off and he couldn’t work out whether he’d offended beyond repair with that kiss to her hand, or she simply didn’t like him. Had that happened before? Probably, inevitably, but it wasn’t something he was aware of. Most people were better fakers than Georgia. And given who he was, the way he was, the tendency to overplay polite was high. Everyone was frightened of giving offence and surprised he had a sense of humour.
But not Georgia. Not that she was offensive exactly, she didn’t tiptoe around him, but she was terminally terrible at polite social discourse. She was easier with Trent and the other Avocado people he’d met, but she was still oddly self-contained. Either Lauren was right, and Georgia was a gold class snob, in which case his developing obsession with her was a hopeless thing and he’d tire of it, or there was a thread he could pull to unwind her. He wanted to find that end, untwist it from its spool and unwrap Georgia so he could see the real her.
Or go blind trying.
“Georgia, have you ever owned a dog?”
“No. Damon, can you keep talking for a moment, please?”
“Talking, my specialty. I’m not sure how it would work for travelling, but yes, apparently I’m thinking about a dog. They’re incredibly helpful, but not right for everyone. We had them on the farm where I grew up of course, working dogs. You know, they’ve developed a washing machine that dogs can load and start with a bark. Amazing, right. I need to do my homework before it’s anything more than an idea.”
“Ready now, Damon.”
“It’s your turn.” He waited. She’d answer because it was her job to get along with him, not because she wanted to play.
“I never had pets.”
“Not even a goldfish?”
“No.”
“As a kid did you want one? Most kids want pets. Were you most kids?”
“I wanted a kitten.”
He shuddered, then laughed. That was almost witty, given he’d told her he didn’t like cats, did she realise? “Ah, kittens, they have a habit of growing into cats. Cats are creepy, slink around, minds of their own. Trip you over one minute, want your
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