I'm Loving Angels Instead
Not Fitting
"Dana, please get the mail."
"I highly doubt it's anything important."
"Dana!"
"Dad, I'm exhausted. Please just me go back to bed."
"Fine. I'll get the mail. You take care of Vann."
"Can do."
I picked up the laughing one-year-old, his shock of straw-coloured hair messy from his rolling around on the floor. Clear, hazel eyes were wide with laughter and excitement; I brushed crumbs from his smooth cheeks.
"Did you like the cake, Vann?" He giggled as I carried him to the playpen. "You stay here. I've gotta finish unpacking."
"Dana, come out here."
"I'm busy, Dad."
"It's alright, Frank. We can meet the kids later."
"Okay. You guys can come by any time you want, Jeff."
"Dad, I've got to go shopping for school stuff."
"You've got clothes, Dana."
"I've lost weight."
"What about---?"
"I haven't lost that much."
"I don't want you getting lost."
"Yeah, 'cause that's so easy in this lively, bustling town. Note my use of my favourite weapon, also known as sarcasm."
"Knock it off. Here's my credit card. Be careful, okay?"
"Like usual."
"I'm serious, Dana. This ain't Indiana."
"I know."
"Hurry up and get your clothes."
A boy about my age was sitting on the front porch of the house next to mine. Earphones were around his neck, and he was scribbling in a notebook lying in his lap. He looked up at me as I opened my car door; I ignored him and pulled out of the driveway.
Night had fallen by the time I returned to my new home. Vann was already sleeping in his crib, and my dad was reading the newspaper in the living room.
"I'm gonna finish putting stuff away."
"'Kay."
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"What're we going to do if people here find out?"
"Probably nothing. It's only a year---less than, actually. It'll be fine."
"I can only hope."
"I highly doubt it's anything important."
"Dana!"
"Dad, I'm exhausted. Please just me go back to bed."
"Fine. I'll get the mail. You take care of Vann."
"Can do."
I picked up the laughing one-year-old, his shock of straw-coloured hair messy from his rolling around on the floor. Clear, hazel eyes were wide with laughter and excitement; I brushed crumbs from his smooth cheeks.
"Did you like the cake, Vann?" He giggled as I carried him to the playpen. "You stay here. I've gotta finish unpacking."
"Dana, come out here."
"I'm busy, Dad."
"It's alright, Frank. We can meet the kids later."
"Okay. You guys can come by any time you want, Jeff."
"Dad, I've got to go shopping for school stuff."
"You've got clothes, Dana."
"I've lost weight."
"What about---?"
"I haven't lost that much."
"I don't want you getting lost."
"Yeah, 'cause that's so easy in this lively, bustling town. Note my use of my favourite weapon, also known as sarcasm."
"Knock it off. Here's my credit card. Be careful, okay?"
"Like usual."
"I'm serious, Dana. This ain't Indiana."
"I know."
"Hurry up and get your clothes."
A boy about my age was sitting on the front porch of the house next to mine. Earphones were around his neck, and he was scribbling in a notebook lying in his lap. He looked up at me as I opened my car door; I ignored him and pulled out of the driveway.
Night had fallen by the time I returned to my new home. Vann was already sleeping in his crib, and my dad was reading the newspaper in the living room.
"I'm gonna finish putting stuff away."
"'Kay."
"Dad?"
"Hm?"
"What're we going to do if people here find out?"
"Probably nothing. It's only a year---less than, actually. It'll be fine."
"I can only hope."