Domestic Bliss ... Yeah, Right
Once again, I am on the outs with Adam. Of course, unlike Amber, I haven't been grounded, unless you count the fact that I childishly stuck my tongue out at him and went riding out of Haven. It's all because I took Amber for a ride on the Ducati. We both wore helmets and great fun was had by all.
Until we pulled up in front of Adam, and I knew that scowl. Amber prattled on about the ride, but Adam wasn't hearing a word of it. He tore into us both for being irresponsible, pointing out that Amber has seizures and asking if I'd gone right barmy. Needless to say Amber didn't take well to being reminded of her 'handicap,' and I didn't like being called irresponsible.
Amber let him have it with both barrels, so to speak and the row between them sounded more like a father-daughter disagreement if I've ever heard one. (Of course, that leaves me wondering if that makes me Mum?)
I came back before sundown (I don't like the night. I can sense things, feel them and it makes me feel dirty, slimy, slick.) Amber was still in her room, "sulking," Adam said and I pointed out that that's what teenagers do when you ground them.
Then came our row which involved Adam telling me that I wasn't permitted to take Amber on the bike anymore and me throwing in his face, "She's dying, Adam, but she isn't dead yet."
Amber and I ate dinner, television dinners, in front of the television while watching Disney movies. Amber is in bed, and Adam is still out in Mr. Rowland's workshop doing God only knows what. I know that I should go to him, say something; he's grown as attached to Amber as I have, but I'm too bloody stubborn.
Until we pulled up in front of Adam, and I knew that scowl. Amber prattled on about the ride, but Adam wasn't hearing a word of it. He tore into us both for being irresponsible, pointing out that Amber has seizures and asking if I'd gone right barmy. Needless to say Amber didn't take well to being reminded of her 'handicap,' and I didn't like being called irresponsible.
Amber let him have it with both barrels, so to speak and the row between them sounded more like a father-daughter disagreement if I've ever heard one. (Of course, that leaves me wondering if that makes me Mum?)
I came back before sundown (I don't like the night. I can sense things, feel them and it makes me feel dirty, slimy, slick.) Amber was still in her room, "sulking," Adam said and I pointed out that that's what teenagers do when you ground them.
Then came our row which involved Adam telling me that I wasn't permitted to take Amber on the bike anymore and me throwing in his face, "She's dying, Adam, but she isn't dead yet."
Amber and I ate dinner, television dinners, in front of the television while watching Disney movies. Amber is in bed, and Adam is still out in Mr. Rowland's workshop doing God only knows what. I know that I should go to him, say something; he's grown as attached to Amber as I have, but I'm too bloody stubborn.