The Slow Sunday
My computer wakes me with a ping, and I roll out of my bed. I have kept it on through the night, downloading anime. I seat myself in my oh-so-comfortable-chair, and I put the episodes, all of twenty-two of them, in a folder. I jawn, and check 1A’s Facebook group.
Apparently, in the drunken stupor of Friday, Kai lost a scarf, Sara lost a shoe (which I guess is better than Shirin, who had both her shoes ruined by Sara’s vomit), and Amina broke a chair that was already liable to break– which I consider to be lucky, considering that there is stuff in the Orchard that is older than the invention of lightbulbs.
I spend my morning watching that anime of my choice, one about the young head of a noble family, who has a pet demon acting as a butler for him. When I watch anime, or when I watch anything really, I have to make sure my right side is turned towards to whatever I am watching. And even so, my sight is still severly incapitated. I have learned to compensate to a small degree: arranging things to the right. Learnt to listen to things moving from the left. Glancing from the periphery. Small things.
I know it’s a cliche, but when you have things, a family, a set of eyes, you don’t miss them. True, Fallowfell isn’t exactly a warzone. And Sweden hasn’t fought a proper war in two centuries (although we made up for it by being a pain in the ass during the span of a half-millenia before the 19th century). But I should have considered it. People die of cancer, accidents, weird stuff that has nothing to do with the concept of ‘fair’. I should have hugged Alexandra when she came home from visits with friends. Should have told Dad that I appreciated him, even though he wanted to see me cured of Aspergers.
And Mom…. Erica Calix, who crossed an ocean and continent from her dear Honduras, for the sake of love. She loved running, and she imbued me with a love for it too. I make a mental note to buy something for Elena, and maybe Hermann, just to say that I appreciate them. Even if I don’t always show it.
My anime-watching segue into the afternoon and is promptly interrupted by a Skype-call. How I hate that noise. I key it in, and pause the episode. “Runeey”, Elena calls. “Hey Elena.”
“So, what’s happening?” “Nothing much”, I respond. Then I follow up with: “I am grounded.” There is a screech, and remove the headphones temporarily. She really has a set of lungs on her. I’d almost forgotten.
“Whaaat? Hermann grounded you? Ole’ Hermann? For what?!”
” For walking home unattended.” “Not for drinking?”, she asks in clarification.
“That might have had a little bit to do with it”, I say.”But I think it might have had more to do with the killer walking around Fallowfell.” There is a silence at her end. “Damn, I knew I should have called you guys taxis. I am so, so sorry. This is my fault.” Elena was kidnapped as a young girl: and we don’t talk about The Three Terrible Weeks. Ever. But during the years that have passed, I have noticed that Elena doesn’t take taxis. She is driven by her mother or chauffeurs, the kind that looks like Jason Statham, or she drives illegally. So for her to mention taxis… I try to get in some tact in my next comment. “Yeah this is totally your fault. That I didn’t call anyone. And that I drank too much. Yeah, it’s all YOUR fault.”
/Is this… is this sarcasm?/ Not now, Verde. And yes, it is.
Elena laughs, and I know the danger has passed.
“Anyhow, I have had my heavenly fields plowed”, Elena says, smug. “Excuse me?”, I ask.
“My abyssal depths have been plunged?” “Elenie, I have no idea what you’re talking about”, I retort, without a clue as to where this conversation is going. My mind is still stuck in the Victorian Era, where the anime is taking place.
“I have seen God, and she is great.” “You’re still not making any sense”, I state, seriously dumbfounded. /Fool, she has fornicated./ “I got laaaid.” “Ah. I see. Or rather, I didn’t see.” Verde, we don’t use the word ‘fornicate’ anymore. I think ‘fuck’, ‘having sex’ are acceptable substitutes. He mutters something about atrocious grammar. “Don’t you wanna know who?”, she asks, with what I can only envision to be a serious amount of glee. If she was with me, there’d be bouncing.
I blink, somewhat strained. Having two conversations at the same time, one in your mind, and one out loud is only simple in books and movies. In the real world you lose track of who has said what.
“Ehrm, Elena, this is like that time you described your first period. Way too much information.” I shudder at the memory. If I ever had the urge to know what happens inside a girl’s body, that urge died when Elena in detail described the path a tampoon takes. Never have I been so happy for two differing chromosomes.
“Huh. So… you and Nevena…?” “Me and Nevena?…”, I drawl out the sentence, stalling in an attempt to avoid the unavoidable. “Don’t be coy with me, Rune. Did you pop that cherry yet? Have you sinned? Become impure yet?”
“A gentleman never tells”, I say with as much dignity as I can muster, which is in this case not very much, as my stammer on that last syllable might attest to. “So I guess no. Oh for fuck’s sake, stop being such a-” I remove my headset and hold it away from my ears at arm’s length. I put it on again to fire off a final response. “I am going to watch anime now. See ya tomorrow.”
“Agh! Stop watching that tentacle-” I cancel the call and resume watching the anime.
“Now dearest Sebastian, what are you up to…”