novel: "Touch" chapter 15.2
Sep. 8th, 2013 12:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
violetcheetahThe random detail about getting ice cream ended up leading somewhere I'm not altogether unpleased with.
-----
Once they were parked in the crowded lot at the Dairy Barn and Trudy had unbuckled her seatbelt, she finally paused to think about how they would look. Amy had already scooted halfway across the back seat, ready to follow Trudy out the same door, her fingers unthinkingly on Trudy's elbow. "Any time now," Amy said as Trudy failed to open the door.
"I don't think we should... go, you know, connected."
"Why the heck not?" Trudy didn't answer. "What, you're afraid of people looking at us funny? You?"
"No, I just..."
"Am I not pretty enough to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, fuck off."
Amy snorted. "Touched a nerve?"
"No! I just don't want to give people... I don't..." She sighed. "If people are going to stare at me, I want it to be because of, of what I really am, not some... misconception."
"You just keep telling yourself that," Amy, said, then sighed. "Fine. We can do the elbow thing, like they do in the movies when you're blind. So they can stare at you because you're blind, which you are, except when you aren't, which is kinda now, but still. Okay? Can we go already? Because if they run out of maple walnut while you sit here waffle-coning..."
"Have you ever gotten anything besides maple walnut?"
"Once. I got the... Huh, I don't know what it was called. It looked good, with caramel and chocolate swirl and nuts, but it wasn't as good."
"Turtle."
"What?"
"It's called turtle." Trudy opened the door and pretended to be blind as Amy took her elbow.
"What the hell does turtle have to do with... oh, okay."
"It's really freaky when you do that. Like you're picking through my brain looking for the thing you need."
Amy turned her free hand with wiggling fingers downward, like a spider, above Trudy's head. "Mmm, yummy brain bits."
"Shut up. Remember, you can't talk."
"Well, order me a waffle cone, or I'll start yelling incoherently."
"You'll get your waffle cone. And your tree blood and nuts. Nut."
***
Trudy clicked Amy's computer back and forth between two pictures of purple mushrooms. "See, that's cool, how you took the same picture twice, but that one has the front mushroom in focus, and this one has the back one."
"And look." Amy pointed to the top of the in-focus mushroom, where Trudy now noticed a tiny pale-grey spider, almost translucent.
"Wait, I thought you didn't like creepy-bug photos."
"I didn't notice him until after I downloaded the pic, and then I kind of liked him. Maybe because he was mine, in a way. Or maybe I was psychic, and knew I'd meet you."
"Or I was psychic and controlling your brain. I made you take her picture from clear across town."
"How do you know it was across town? You might have been at Tago that day."
"We could check my laptop and see if I have any pics of my own from the park with the same time stamp."
"I'm not sure I want to know. I mean, what if you do? Then..."
"Then the spider isn't the creepiest thing in this photo." Trudy fell silent, contemplating the spider, the nearest front leg in the best focus, slightly raised, almost like it was waving at her. She cleared her throat. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I don't care what the answer is, I just want to know."
"I'm not gay," said Amy. "Are you?"
"How did...?"
"Oh, please, it's been hanging there all night, since the guy. Since before that, really, but not the same way. Anyway, I like boys."
"Cool. I mean, it'd be cool either way."
"You didn't answer."
"I... I don't know the answer. I don't like anyone."
Amy laughed. "Well, I know that."
"No, I mean, I don't, that whatever-it-is you're supposed to feel, spark or whatever, and thinking about someone, I don't get that... feeling."
"What about when you dream? You know, not regular dreams, but..."
Trudy's face warmed for a moment, but then that heat was gone, and she felt a strange calm. "I don't have dreams like that."
"Really??"
Trudy laughed. "What make you so sure most people do? It's not like you've asked your friends. Maybe you're a nympho."
"Everybody thinks about it. Not dreams, maybe, but I mean, TV, even without words, especially without words, and they're all so, so pretty, or handsome, or both, and always kissing, and more. And real people, on the street, or in the school, the halls where the normal kids are. And the park: I stopped at the big bolder once and there was a guy and a girl — well, woman, I guess, she was probably Susan's age — but, anyway, they weren't all the way undressed, yet, but you could tell they were going to be."
"Oh my god. Did you watch?"
"I... not the whole way. But enough to know it was like the dreams I have. You don't have that? I mean, when you look at a guy, or a girl. You don't think, 'He's handsome' or 'She's pretty' or anything?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not, it's just aesthetic. More with girls, but it's not like I want to kiss them or... I want to be them. Not even always when they're really pretty, but when they, the way they carry themselves, like they don't care if they're pretty or not, or, or they aren't even thinking about it, aren't thinking about people seeing them and what they think, they're too busy going where they're going or thinking about what they're thinking about."
Trudy didn't realize until Amy looked down at her free hand that she had been looking at Trudy for a while, and it hadn't even bothered her. Amy turned her hand over and examined the fingernails, dislodging a fleck from under the pinky nail with her thumbnail. "You know you look like that all the time."
"Shut up!"
"You do!"
"Well, maybe here, but not out where people see me, school, or the mall."
"You do, too. You did at the Dairy Barn, even with... I mean, I know you were worried or whatever, but you still looked like, like you weren't thinking about it."
Trudy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, realizing that she noticed it because Amy was looking at her again. "Well, I was thinking about them. And they were staring."
"Maybe they were jealous." Trudy bark-laughed. "What? They could be jealous of you the way you are of the girls you see."
"No. Fucking. Way."
"How do you know? And the girls you see, maybe they feel you watching them and think, 'Oh my god, why is she staring at me, I must look like a freak, do I have a booger hanging out of my nose?'"
"Oh, great, so all this time I've been making people feel like crap like I do."
"Only people you admire."
"Yeah, thanks, that really allays my guilt." She chuckled, and they settled into silence for a minute, Amy idly clicking through her photo album before speaking softly.
"I don't think I have to worry about that. About making people feel crappy, or making them jealous."
Trudy searched for something to say. "Well, I'm pretty sure you made that guy at the park feel really shitty. So there's that."
Amy's gaze flicked across Trudy's profile, and Trudy was surprised to see that she looked sad. She didn't feel sad; she felt... good, in some way she couldn't find a word for. But it was a subdued goodness, and the more she tried to identify it, the more she felt the melancholy. But it was like the memory of sadness, remembered from a distance, like watching winter rain through a kitchen window, wearing pajamas and holding a cup of cocoa, your wet school clothes hanging over the backs of the chairs at the table behind you. She couldn't remember ever having done it — it wasn't her mother's kitchen she pictured — but she was sure this would be what it felt like.
"What?" Amy's voice only partly broke the spell. Trudy saw her own smile, dreamy and dorky, the corners of her mouth actually curling down slightly instead of up. She looked like she was wincing. She shook her head.
"Nothing. Just, just remembering that guy. I will treasure that memory always."
"I thought you were afraid he'd beat the crap out of us."
"Yeah, but he didn't, and now it's over and we're safe, and... I don't know."
"Sometimes the memory of something is better than when it was actually happening."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"I want to read Watership Down again sometime, knowing how it's going to end, knowing when I read the scary parts that they'll be safe. They're already safe, because it's already happened. Wait, you said that, didn't you?"
"What? Said what?"
"When I wanted to quit reading in the middle, you said... something about how the story was already written, and however it ended, it couldn't be any worse than what I was imagining."
"Oh. Yeah. I didn't think you were listening."
"I'm not sure I was. Or at least not understanding, not then. I just, something about it sounded right, even if it didn't make sense."
"You are way too trusting."
"Am I? I don't feel trusting. I mean there's Susan, and my teacher, and now you, sort of."
"It's that last one that worries me."
Amy chuckled. "Well, not all the time."
"Good. I don't want the responsibility of someone idolizing me."
"I'll try to control myself. And I trust you to keep me in check."
"Touché."
-----
Once they were parked in the crowded lot at the Dairy Barn and Trudy had unbuckled her seatbelt, she finally paused to think about how they would look. Amy had already scooted halfway across the back seat, ready to follow Trudy out the same door, her fingers unthinkingly on Trudy's elbow. "Any time now," Amy said as Trudy failed to open the door.
"I don't think we should... go, you know, connected."
"Why the heck not?" Trudy didn't answer. "What, you're afraid of people looking at us funny? You?"
"No, I just..."
"Am I not pretty enough to be your girlfriend?"
"Oh, fuck off."
Amy snorted. "Touched a nerve?"
"No! I just don't want to give people... I don't..." She sighed. "If people are going to stare at me, I want it to be because of, of what I really am, not some... misconception."
"You just keep telling yourself that," Amy, said, then sighed. "Fine. We can do the elbow thing, like they do in the movies when you're blind. So they can stare at you because you're blind, which you are, except when you aren't, which is kinda now, but still. Okay? Can we go already? Because if they run out of maple walnut while you sit here waffle-coning..."
"Have you ever gotten anything besides maple walnut?"
"Once. I got the... Huh, I don't know what it was called. It looked good, with caramel and chocolate swirl and nuts, but it wasn't as good."
"Turtle."
"What?"
"It's called turtle." Trudy opened the door and pretended to be blind as Amy took her elbow.
"What the hell does turtle have to do with... oh, okay."
"It's really freaky when you do that. Like you're picking through my brain looking for the thing you need."
Amy turned her free hand with wiggling fingers downward, like a spider, above Trudy's head. "Mmm, yummy brain bits."
"Shut up. Remember, you can't talk."
"Well, order me a waffle cone, or I'll start yelling incoherently."
"You'll get your waffle cone. And your tree blood and nuts. Nut."
***
Trudy clicked Amy's computer back and forth between two pictures of purple mushrooms. "See, that's cool, how you took the same picture twice, but that one has the front mushroom in focus, and this one has the back one."
"And look." Amy pointed to the top of the in-focus mushroom, where Trudy now noticed a tiny pale-grey spider, almost translucent.
"Wait, I thought you didn't like creepy-bug photos."
"I didn't notice him until after I downloaded the pic, and then I kind of liked him. Maybe because he was mine, in a way. Or maybe I was psychic, and knew I'd meet you."
"Or I was psychic and controlling your brain. I made you take her picture from clear across town."
"How do you know it was across town? You might have been at Tago that day."
"We could check my laptop and see if I have any pics of my own from the park with the same time stamp."
"I'm not sure I want to know. I mean, what if you do? Then..."
"Then the spider isn't the creepiest thing in this photo." Trudy fell silent, contemplating the spider, the nearest front leg in the best focus, slightly raised, almost like it was waving at her. She cleared her throat. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I don't care what the answer is, I just want to know."
"I'm not gay," said Amy. "Are you?"
"How did...?"
"Oh, please, it's been hanging there all night, since the guy. Since before that, really, but not the same way. Anyway, I like boys."
"Cool. I mean, it'd be cool either way."
"You didn't answer."
"I... I don't know the answer. I don't like anyone."
Amy laughed. "Well, I know that."
"No, I mean, I don't, that whatever-it-is you're supposed to feel, spark or whatever, and thinking about someone, I don't get that... feeling."
"What about when you dream? You know, not regular dreams, but..."
Trudy's face warmed for a moment, but then that heat was gone, and she felt a strange calm. "I don't have dreams like that."
"Really??"
Trudy laughed. "What make you so sure most people do? It's not like you've asked your friends. Maybe you're a nympho."
"Everybody thinks about it. Not dreams, maybe, but I mean, TV, even without words, especially without words, and they're all so, so pretty, or handsome, or both, and always kissing, and more. And real people, on the street, or in the school, the halls where the normal kids are. And the park: I stopped at the big bolder once and there was a guy and a girl — well, woman, I guess, she was probably Susan's age — but, anyway, they weren't all the way undressed, yet, but you could tell they were going to be."
"Oh my god. Did you watch?"
"I... not the whole way. But enough to know it was like the dreams I have. You don't have that? I mean, when you look at a guy, or a girl. You don't think, 'He's handsome' or 'She's pretty' or anything?"
"Well, yeah, but it's not, it's just aesthetic. More with girls, but it's not like I want to kiss them or... I want to be them. Not even always when they're really pretty, but when they, the way they carry themselves, like they don't care if they're pretty or not, or, or they aren't even thinking about it, aren't thinking about people seeing them and what they think, they're too busy going where they're going or thinking about what they're thinking about."
Trudy didn't realize until Amy looked down at her free hand that she had been looking at Trudy for a while, and it hadn't even bothered her. Amy turned her hand over and examined the fingernails, dislodging a fleck from under the pinky nail with her thumbnail. "You know you look like that all the time."
"Shut up!"
"You do!"
"Well, maybe here, but not out where people see me, school, or the mall."
"You do, too. You did at the Dairy Barn, even with... I mean, I know you were worried or whatever, but you still looked like, like you weren't thinking about it."
Trudy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, realizing that she noticed it because Amy was looking at her again. "Well, I was thinking about them. And they were staring."
"Maybe they were jealous." Trudy bark-laughed. "What? They could be jealous of you the way you are of the girls you see."
"No. Fucking. Way."
"How do you know? And the girls you see, maybe they feel you watching them and think, 'Oh my god, why is she staring at me, I must look like a freak, do I have a booger hanging out of my nose?'"
"Oh, great, so all this time I've been making people feel like crap like I do."
"Only people you admire."
"Yeah, thanks, that really allays my guilt." She chuckled, and they settled into silence for a minute, Amy idly clicking through her photo album before speaking softly.
"I don't think I have to worry about that. About making people feel crappy, or making them jealous."
Trudy searched for something to say. "Well, I'm pretty sure you made that guy at the park feel really shitty. So there's that."
Amy's gaze flicked across Trudy's profile, and Trudy was surprised to see that she looked sad. She didn't feel sad; she felt... good, in some way she couldn't find a word for. But it was a subdued goodness, and the more she tried to identify it, the more she felt the melancholy. But it was like the memory of sadness, remembered from a distance, like watching winter rain through a kitchen window, wearing pajamas and holding a cup of cocoa, your wet school clothes hanging over the backs of the chairs at the table behind you. She couldn't remember ever having done it — it wasn't her mother's kitchen she pictured — but she was sure this would be what it felt like.
"What?" Amy's voice only partly broke the spell. Trudy saw her own smile, dreamy and dorky, the corners of her mouth actually curling down slightly instead of up. She looked like she was wincing. She shook her head.
"Nothing. Just, just remembering that guy. I will treasure that memory always."
"I thought you were afraid he'd beat the crap out of us."
"Yeah, but he didn't, and now it's over and we're safe, and... I don't know."
"Sometimes the memory of something is better than when it was actually happening."
"Yeah. Yeah."
"I want to read Watership Down again sometime, knowing how it's going to end, knowing when I read the scary parts that they'll be safe. They're already safe, because it's already happened. Wait, you said that, didn't you?"
"What? Said what?"
"When I wanted to quit reading in the middle, you said... something about how the story was already written, and however it ended, it couldn't be any worse than what I was imagining."
"Oh. Yeah. I didn't think you were listening."
"I'm not sure I was. Or at least not understanding, not then. I just, something about it sounded right, even if it didn't make sense."
"You are way too trusting."
"Am I? I don't feel trusting. I mean there's Susan, and my teacher, and now you, sort of."
"It's that last one that worries me."
Amy chuckled. "Well, not all the time."
"Good. I don't want the responsibility of someone idolizing me."
"I'll try to control myself. And I trust you to keep me in check."
"Touché."
