through the game until I was at least able to walk and shoot at the same time. When we played as I team. Liam was the commander armed to the teeth and ready to kill zombies. I was a female character with a machine gun. I was so preoccupied with my big boobs that I failed to see the zombie hoard approaching. Liam yelled at me to shoot as he fought them off but I was too busy dancing around in my skin-tight camouflage commando suit to notice.
His expression when we lost was not happy. Where he saw the game as serious business I saw it as fun. Without another word, he reset the game and was now on single player. I had been rebuffed. I went back to my laundry. His reaction was strange. His anger was far too serious to be caused by just a game.
Kylie returned from a walk with the dog. A quick hello was followed by her bedroom door closing. She was clearly angry. At last count, the only one who wasn't mad with me was Walter.
I knocked on her door. A faint but stern voice allowed entry. She was on her bed painting her toenails. She was a beautiful young girl on the verge of becoming a beautiful young woman. Long voluminous hair framed a rounded cherubic face. Her infectious smile and her skillful mastery of the arched eyebrow made her formidable. And at seventeen she was insightful beyond her years. “My dad told me what happened yesterday,” she offered.
“I figured as much.”
“He's so confused.”
I gave her a quizzical look
“I think sometimes you scare him. He loves you, but he doesn't know how to talk with you when he knows you're conflicted.”
“Conflicted? He told you this?”
“Yes.”
“I've always been honest with him.” As the words passed my lips I knew it was a lie.
Like her father, Kylie could discern as much from how you answered as from the answer itself. She looked at her toes and touched them up.
The silence, measured by my heart pounding, was too long. I could see the hesitation in her eyes. The words were there. “And?” I asked.
“Sometimes when you answer a question, your words say one thing but your body says another. It's confusing because you seem....”
“Conflicted?” I finished. “That's not true.” Another lie.
She returned to painting her toes. She was done with this conversation. I was certain she knew I was lying and of the emotional torrent churning in my head. How could I tell her I didn't want a family? What words would soften the truth and make her understand?
I went back to my laundry. The kids shouldn't have bothered me and yet they did. Kylie's words echoed in my head. Liam's silent anger upset me. I was angry and ashamed. The more I thought about it the worse I felt.
When I lost the game I thought it funny but Liam did not. I saw it as merely a game – unimportant. He probably saw my actions as dismissive or uncaring. Where I thought I was sly, Kylie saw deceit. To Joe, my guarded behavior looked like conflict. Laughter to one person could look like crying to another. Salvation to one – damnation to another. It was just a matter of perspective.
I didn't want to be alone so I had re-invented myself from the fragments – made myself somebody even I didn't recognize. I inserted myself into a family under false pretenses. A wave of guilt washed over me.
Joe came home to find me sitting on the front porch staring off into space. He sat next to me. “What are you looking at?” he asked.
His expression when we lost was not happy. Where he saw the game as serious business I saw it as fun. Without another word, he reset the game and was now on single player. I had been rebuffed. I went back to my laundry. His reaction was strange. His anger was far too serious to be caused by just a game.
Kylie returned from a walk with the dog. A quick hello was followed by her bedroom door closing. She was clearly angry. At last count, the only one who wasn't mad with me was Walter.
I knocked on her door. A faint but stern voice allowed entry. She was on her bed painting her toenails. She was a beautiful young girl on the verge of becoming a beautiful young woman. Long voluminous hair framed a rounded cherubic face. Her infectious smile and her skillful mastery of the arched eyebrow made her formidable. And at seventeen she was insightful beyond her years. “My dad told me what happened yesterday,” she offered.
“I figured as much.”
“He's so confused.”
I gave her a quizzical look
“I think sometimes you scare him. He loves you, but he doesn't know how to talk with you when he knows you're conflicted.”
“Conflicted? He told you this?”
“Yes.”
“I've always been honest with him.” As the words passed my lips I knew it was a lie.
Like her father, Kylie could discern as much from how you answered as from the answer itself. She looked at her toes and touched them up.
The silence, measured by my heart pounding, was too long. I could see the hesitation in her eyes. The words were there. “And?” I asked.
“Sometimes when you answer a question, your words say one thing but your body says another. It's confusing because you seem....”
“Conflicted?” I finished. “That's not true.” Another lie.
She returned to painting her toes. She was done with this conversation. I was certain she knew I was lying and of the emotional torrent churning in my head. How could I tell her I didn't want a family? What words would soften the truth and make her understand?
I went back to my laundry. The kids shouldn't have bothered me and yet they did. Kylie's words echoed in my head. Liam's silent anger upset me. I was angry and ashamed. The more I thought about it the worse I felt.
When I lost the game I thought it funny but Liam did not. I saw it as merely a game – unimportant. He probably saw my actions as dismissive or uncaring. Where I thought I was sly, Kylie saw deceit. To Joe, my guarded behavior looked like conflict. Laughter to one person could look like crying to another. Salvation to one – damnation to another. It was just a matter of perspective.
I didn't want to be alone so I had re-invented myself from the fragments – made myself somebody even I didn't recognize. I inserted myself into a family under false pretenses. A wave of guilt washed over me.
Joe came home to find me sitting on the front porch staring off into space. He sat next to me. “What are you looking at?” he asked.
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