Basic Anatomical Parts
City Lights
“So, what did baby sister learn today?” Ty asked over QuickCook noodles an hour or so later.
“Nothing,” I said flatly, twirling a forkful of spaghetti around plastic tines, “I don’t know what’s so difficult to understand about English, but this is getting fucking ridiculous.”
Ty smiled looking back down at his own spaghetti-laden paper plate. “It doesn’t come easy to everyone like it does you.”
I sent him a dirty look over the counter.
“Hey, you’re not doing anything tonight, are you?” he asked, “I want to get some of these boxes unpacked.”
I pushed a piece of spaghetti out of my teeth with my tongue. “I guess not.”
“Awesome, because I am planning a delicious chicken dinner tomorrow night, and paper plates are going to be no match against the pounds of poultry and rich, creamy sauce.”
“Ooo, what’s the occasion, Chef Boyardee?” I teased.
He tossed his plate into the trash and reached for a paper towel—white quilt with little pink daisies across the top. “I don’t know, new home? New school? Unemployment? Mostly I just want meat.”
My shoulders slumped. “That’s fair.”
“Mom and dad will be joining us.” He continued on quickly before I could utter a single unhappy syllable. “And we will sit around – silently, if we must – and enjoy the labors of our forefathers.”
"Ty you’re not our forefathers,” I said with an edge.
“No, but I learned from grandpap, and he had four fathers.” His eyes widen with desperation when I didn’t crack at the lame joke. “This is their apartment, Jace. They live here, too. You’re going to have to interact with them eventually.”
I blinked and turned my eyes to the window.
“Let’s start it out on the right foot, okay? I know you hate this, but make the best of it, and they’ll give you freer reign. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Fragments of the last few weeks jumbled through my head. Freer rein was a distant shadow of a possibility so distant and shadowy it really wasn’t even a possibility, but I nodded minutely.
“Good.” He nodded once when I turned my hollow stare back on him, holding it for a moment before straightening himself. He gave me a light smack on the shoulder as he passed around the island counter. “Kitchen boxes first, then we can dig into everything else. I’m sure you want to unpack all your girly bathroom stuff.”
I looked down at the spaghetti remains on my paper dinner plate. “Yeah.”
The clock ticked quietly that night as I stood at my bedroom window looking down on the city lights. It was so quiet the apartment could have been empty. I let myself fantasize for a moment, as my eyes slid shut again, how different it would be to be here by choice and on my own, and I almost smiled.
There was something mesmerizing about the city, with its big lights and empty promises, something that murmured ‘come hither’ with a sultry smile and curling index finger—a French whore with her legs spread.
My muscles tensed with depravity.
New York City was the ambitious American’s dream, for whatever reason or other, and the ambitious didn’t give up. It had been Jen’s end-game from day one. I’d wondered in the beginning if this was really what it was all for for her, but she was so confident and self-possessed I didn’t question for long. And now here I was, without her.
I smiled faintly thinking about how outraged she’d be that it was me in her city and not her, and how I wasn’t doing anything with it now. I was right where we’d always wanted to be, and I was laying it to waste.
Well, if I wasn’t a prisoner in my own house.
I frowned, disgruntled at how quickly I’d found that excuse. So what if I was under stricter watch? So what if I had a lexicon, now, of acceptable rules and behaviors to abide by? Fuck the lexicon. There was a time when I was so good at skirting the rules that our fearless leader herself came to me for aid, and that era had dawned rather quickly. It turned out that the smart shy girl was a necessity after all, and my rarity in her line made trusting me just as necessary.
So maybe I was a little rusty; that could be easily fixed. They’d all be so angry to see my inaction now—not that what we had always wanted was practically in my lap. Except maybe Liddy. Liddy had never liked their adoption of me. She'd love to see me fall from grace now.
I wasn't even really sure why it was that I was having this conversation with myself. My reimplantation in the big city should have been a blessing. I should have picked right back up where I'd left off, without missing a beat. It's what we wanted.
And that’s when I decided, as I flung my closet doors open and tore through my closet for my Fuck Me Red dress, that I wasn’t giving this up.
“Nothing,” I said flatly, twirling a forkful of spaghetti around plastic tines, “I don’t know what’s so difficult to understand about English, but this is getting fucking ridiculous.”
Ty smiled looking back down at his own spaghetti-laden paper plate. “It doesn’t come easy to everyone like it does you.”
I sent him a dirty look over the counter.
“Hey, you’re not doing anything tonight, are you?” he asked, “I want to get some of these boxes unpacked.”
I pushed a piece of spaghetti out of my teeth with my tongue. “I guess not.”
“Awesome, because I am planning a delicious chicken dinner tomorrow night, and paper plates are going to be no match against the pounds of poultry and rich, creamy sauce.”
“Ooo, what’s the occasion, Chef Boyardee?” I teased.
He tossed his plate into the trash and reached for a paper towel—white quilt with little pink daisies across the top. “I don’t know, new home? New school? Unemployment? Mostly I just want meat.”
My shoulders slumped. “That’s fair.”
“Mom and dad will be joining us.” He continued on quickly before I could utter a single unhappy syllable. “And we will sit around – silently, if we must – and enjoy the labors of our forefathers.”
"Ty you’re not our forefathers,” I said with an edge.
“No, but I learned from grandpap, and he had four fathers.” His eyes widen with desperation when I didn’t crack at the lame joke. “This is their apartment, Jace. They live here, too. You’re going to have to interact with them eventually.”
I blinked and turned my eyes to the window.
“Let’s start it out on the right foot, okay? I know you hate this, but make the best of it, and they’ll give you freer reign. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Fragments of the last few weeks jumbled through my head. Freer rein was a distant shadow of a possibility so distant and shadowy it really wasn’t even a possibility, but I nodded minutely.
“Good.” He nodded once when I turned my hollow stare back on him, holding it for a moment before straightening himself. He gave me a light smack on the shoulder as he passed around the island counter. “Kitchen boxes first, then we can dig into everything else. I’m sure you want to unpack all your girly bathroom stuff.”
I looked down at the spaghetti remains on my paper dinner plate. “Yeah.”
The clock ticked quietly that night as I stood at my bedroom window looking down on the city lights. It was so quiet the apartment could have been empty. I let myself fantasize for a moment, as my eyes slid shut again, how different it would be to be here by choice and on my own, and I almost smiled.
There was something mesmerizing about the city, with its big lights and empty promises, something that murmured ‘come hither’ with a sultry smile and curling index finger—a French whore with her legs spread.
My muscles tensed with depravity.
New York City was the ambitious American’s dream, for whatever reason or other, and the ambitious didn’t give up. It had been Jen’s end-game from day one. I’d wondered in the beginning if this was really what it was all for for her, but she was so confident and self-possessed I didn’t question for long. And now here I was, without her.
I smiled faintly thinking about how outraged she’d be that it was me in her city and not her, and how I wasn’t doing anything with it now. I was right where we’d always wanted to be, and I was laying it to waste.
Well, if I wasn’t a prisoner in my own house.
I frowned, disgruntled at how quickly I’d found that excuse. So what if I was under stricter watch? So what if I had a lexicon, now, of acceptable rules and behaviors to abide by? Fuck the lexicon. There was a time when I was so good at skirting the rules that our fearless leader herself came to me for aid, and that era had dawned rather quickly. It turned out that the smart shy girl was a necessity after all, and my rarity in her line made trusting me just as necessary.
So maybe I was a little rusty; that could be easily fixed. They’d all be so angry to see my inaction now—not that what we had always wanted was practically in my lap. Except maybe Liddy. Liddy had never liked their adoption of me. She'd love to see me fall from grace now.
I wasn't even really sure why it was that I was having this conversation with myself. My reimplantation in the big city should have been a blessing. I should have picked right back up where I'd left off, without missing a beat. It's what we wanted.
And that’s when I decided, as I flung my closet doors open and tore through my closet for my Fuck Me Red dress, that I wasn’t giving this up.