"I would sit in the nursing home with my pinky out like this," he finally said feebly, holding out one finger. "With tea of course, not just sitting around like that for no reason."
Monica gazed at his face in utter confusion for a full thirty seconds before the tears spilled down her cheeks and she burst into a choking fit of laughter until she shook like a weeping willow caught in a strong breeze. Clutching her sides she managed to slide onto the couch beside him and buried her face in his thick navy sweatshirt where she laughed until she caught the hiccups and had to sit quietly without moving to keep from choking on tears, laughter, and bubbles of trapped air.
"God," she whispered finally. "You're amazing Martin Spadingle. I think I'd be dead if you didn't exist."
"I...thanks." He sat and felt the warmth of her head resting against his shoulder and wondered what a normal pair of mixed-sex, gender confused roommates would do in this situation.
"You're the more normal one here," he told her, finishing his thoughts in a sentence. He knew she had no idea what he was talking about but only nodded and ran her fingers along the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn't sure he needed to make sense to have a conversation with her.
"I'd like to sleep in your room tonight." Her voice came out so softly Martin dared not answer for fear he'd imagined it and would push her further away if he so much as breathed the wrong way. For a instant he wondered if gardening were much like relationships. Every flower he touched withered despite his mother's talent for bringing plants to burst forth in blossoms in the dead of winter. Relationships seemed as likely to succeed as growing a flower. It was an uphill battle he knew he could never win.
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but instead of asking if she were sure or ignoring her request all together he simply slid his arms around her and picked her up. He carried her down the hall and she laughed as her toes brushed against the wallpaper covered in dots and spiral patterns. They got to his room and he set her down so slowly on the bed, for fear of breaking her, that she finally giggled and wriggled out of his grasp to collapse on the lumpy bedspread.
Monica gazed at his face in utter confusion for a full thirty seconds before the tears spilled down her cheeks and she burst into a choking fit of laughter until she shook like a weeping willow caught in a strong breeze. Clutching her sides she managed to slide onto the couch beside him and buried her face in his thick navy sweatshirt where she laughed until she caught the hiccups and had to sit quietly without moving to keep from choking on tears, laughter, and bubbles of trapped air.
"God," she whispered finally. "You're amazing Martin Spadingle. I think I'd be dead if you didn't exist."
"I...thanks." He sat and felt the warmth of her head resting against his shoulder and wondered what a normal pair of mixed-sex, gender confused roommates would do in this situation.
"You're the more normal one here," he told her, finishing his thoughts in a sentence. He knew she had no idea what he was talking about but only nodded and ran her fingers along the sleeve of his shirt. He wasn't sure he needed to make sense to have a conversation with her.
"I'd like to sleep in your room tonight." Her voice came out so softly Martin dared not answer for fear he'd imagined it and would push her further away if he so much as breathed the wrong way. For a instant he wondered if gardening were much like relationships. Every flower he touched withered despite his mother's talent for bringing plants to burst forth in blossoms in the dead of winter. Relationships seemed as likely to succeed as growing a flower. It was an uphill battle he knew he could never win.
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but instead of asking if she were sure or ignoring her request all together he simply slid his arms around her and picked her up. He carried her down the hall and she laughed as her toes brushed against the wallpaper covered in dots and spiral patterns. They got to his room and he set her down so slowly on the bed, for fear of breaking her, that she finally giggled and wriggled out of his grasp to collapse on the lumpy bedspread.
