Narrative
King Shahryar goes to see his offspring. Kentucky-based.
Nine girls. Nine women, perhaps. Women was a better word, implying maturity and adulthood and ripeness rather than youthful indiscretions - or worse, a predilection for jailbait. It came down to being careful. Don't shit on your own doorstep, etcetera, etcetera and the girls in the stable-yard weren't gussied up all that often, with horse-shit under their nails and straw in their hair and adoring looks because he was son of the owners and cock o'the walk. Didn't like that; he prefered that adoration leveled at him because he was him, not anyone's son and heir. First couple had been his first couple ever. Roll in the hay as cliched as they came, but it all came down to this one. Getting drunk in a bar on home-coming, trying to forget the pain of being kicked out, kicked off - injured still. Playing pool and she'd wandered over.
Fatal perhaps, this enjoyment of women. They were all different; silken limbs, lush curves, slender bodies, the curve of a mouth and the sweet angle of elbows and knees. Different ways of saying 'yes' and 'no' and indecisions. Didn't know what drew him, what caused it, this dissatisfaction with what one woman could do, but even in the slick greeting of flesh, he was thinking what would another do?.
Except this one. One woman, one girl, he'd never question again. She lay in the crook of his arm, her eyes startlingly blue and fixed on his. As if she could see inside his head, and then she yawned and clearly was bored by his introspection while holding the queen of the universe against his chest, like a football. "See?" she seemed to be saying, "I'm terrifying, and omniscent, and by the way, my mouth? It looks like a rosebud. I'm clearly the most powerful woman ever."
His - couldn't be called an ex-girlfriend. Ex one night stand? Leant against the wundow sill in a peach coloured uniform, and the smoke curled out into the sunshine from the thin cigarette in her hand. Gave a crooked smile and yawned.
"She's got your eyes."
"Yeah, I see that." His finger rubbed over the soft-soft skin of her forehead, the bridge of her nose, tiny eyebrows. Big, rough. Awkward. You needed hands like cotton to handle this; like the antiques or the old books in libraries. Gloves to avoid imprinting on something this delicate. Like glass. "Yeah, I see," and she blinked again and her face was disapproving. "Sorry," Alex told the baby, and the creases of a baby-frown smoothed out, as though he was forgiven.
"Whatcha apologisin' to her for?" Lisa made a sound that would have been a sigh if it weren't so heavy, so burdened.
"Not showing up," he didn't look up. Didn't want to see what had made her, because the baby - Tabitha - was separate and entirely different from the sum of her parts. Strange and unusual, like a baby Shiva who had deigned to grace them with her presence.
"Yeah, about that." The baby sighed, and went to sleep suddenly in the surprising quickness of small children and animals. It startled him and oddly, gave him a sense of loss. She'd been awake and his so briefly.
When he looked up properly, he was dragged back into Lisa's world, of half-light through the crooked shades and the swirl of cigarette smoke from her hand. The lampshade by the armchair was crooked, and a stack of clothes was tossed haphazardly onto the cushions. Her face was half shadow.
"I can't do this without help, Alex." She sighed, and sat down on the love-seat by the window, all wicker and rose-splattered cushions. Kind of furniture his mom sat on to drink sweet tea. "The money is... You know how much one of those things costs?" She laughed abruptly, sort of sad. Like her laugh didn't exist any longer, and she was trying to find it. "And my mom is pretty tired, helping out and all. You know I got into college?"
The baby gave a half-sigh, and turned her face more closely into Alex's side. He didn't know who to look at.
"Yeah. University of Villanova. It's a good school." Lisa was talking, more pleading. "I got a scholarship. Tuition all paid for, all I got to do is find the money for housing and stuff, and with Mom helping, I could make it."
"What about - her?" Now he was looking at her, soft blond fuzz across her head, the curl of her fingernails against her palm, it seemed inconceivable that she could be anything but the centre of everyone's world. Even lying here, chilling out with baby snores, she was in command of the room.
"Alex. Alex." Definitely pleading now. She raked a free hand through her hair.
"What?" Defiant. Always good at ignoring what he didn't want to hear, or see. Lisa leaning her head on her arms now, watching him.
"You're pretty good with her, huh?" Perhaps if he stopped breathing so loudly, he could hear her breaths, tiny, soft. Almost not there.
"Could she - could she visit me?" He looked up, dragged his eyes away from Tabitha - Boo, Tabs, whatever. Blue-eyed girl. His blue-eyed girl. Back to Lisa, who was still talking, paused, in shock.
"I guess," she said hesitantly. "For a little while. Look, Alex, I don't know what's going to happen. If I can keep her, even. You can't," Tabitha sighed and opened her eyes again, steady, world-secret knowing gaze fastened steadily on his. "You can't get too attached, y'know? Not if you're not going to. Be there."
"Too late," he told the baby, who smiled back at him. "Already attached. Already here."
Nine girls. Nine women, perhaps. Women was a better word, implying maturity and adulthood and ripeness rather than youthful indiscretions - or worse, a predilection for jailbait. It came down to being careful. Don't shit on your own doorstep, etcetera, etcetera and the girls in the stable-yard weren't gussied up all that often, with horse-shit under their nails and straw in their hair and adoring looks because he was son of the owners and cock o'the walk. Didn't like that; he prefered that adoration leveled at him because he was him, not anyone's son and heir. First couple had been his first couple ever. Roll in the hay as cliched as they came, but it all came down to this one. Getting drunk in a bar on home-coming, trying to forget the pain of being kicked out, kicked off - injured still. Playing pool and she'd wandered over.
Fatal perhaps, this enjoyment of women. They were all different; silken limbs, lush curves, slender bodies, the curve of a mouth and the sweet angle of elbows and knees. Different ways of saying 'yes' and 'no' and indecisions. Didn't know what drew him, what caused it, this dissatisfaction with what one woman could do, but even in the slick greeting of flesh, he was thinking what would another do?.
Except this one. One woman, one girl, he'd never question again. She lay in the crook of his arm, her eyes startlingly blue and fixed on his. As if she could see inside his head, and then she yawned and clearly was bored by his introspection while holding the queen of the universe against his chest, like a football. "See?" she seemed to be saying, "I'm terrifying, and omniscent, and by the way, my mouth? It looks like a rosebud. I'm clearly the most powerful woman ever."
His - couldn't be called an ex-girlfriend. Ex one night stand? Leant against the wundow sill in a peach coloured uniform, and the smoke curled out into the sunshine from the thin cigarette in her hand. Gave a crooked smile and yawned.
"She's got your eyes."
"Yeah, I see that." His finger rubbed over the soft-soft skin of her forehead, the bridge of her nose, tiny eyebrows. Big, rough. Awkward. You needed hands like cotton to handle this; like the antiques or the old books in libraries. Gloves to avoid imprinting on something this delicate. Like glass. "Yeah, I see," and she blinked again and her face was disapproving. "Sorry," Alex told the baby, and the creases of a baby-frown smoothed out, as though he was forgiven.
"Whatcha apologisin' to her for?" Lisa made a sound that would have been a sigh if it weren't so heavy, so burdened.
"Not showing up," he didn't look up. Didn't want to see what had made her, because the baby - Tabitha - was separate and entirely different from the sum of her parts. Strange and unusual, like a baby Shiva who had deigned to grace them with her presence.
"Yeah, about that." The baby sighed, and went to sleep suddenly in the surprising quickness of small children and animals. It startled him and oddly, gave him a sense of loss. She'd been awake and his so briefly.
When he looked up properly, he was dragged back into Lisa's world, of half-light through the crooked shades and the swirl of cigarette smoke from her hand. The lampshade by the armchair was crooked, and a stack of clothes was tossed haphazardly onto the cushions. Her face was half shadow.
"I can't do this without help, Alex." She sighed, and sat down on the love-seat by the window, all wicker and rose-splattered cushions. Kind of furniture his mom sat on to drink sweet tea. "The money is... You know how much one of those things costs?" She laughed abruptly, sort of sad. Like her laugh didn't exist any longer, and she was trying to find it. "And my mom is pretty tired, helping out and all. You know I got into college?"
The baby gave a half-sigh, and turned her face more closely into Alex's side. He didn't know who to look at.
"Yeah. University of Villanova. It's a good school." Lisa was talking, more pleading. "I got a scholarship. Tuition all paid for, all I got to do is find the money for housing and stuff, and with Mom helping, I could make it."
"What about - her?" Now he was looking at her, soft blond fuzz across her head, the curl of her fingernails against her palm, it seemed inconceivable that she could be anything but the centre of everyone's world. Even lying here, chilling out with baby snores, she was in command of the room.
"Alex. Alex." Definitely pleading now. She raked a free hand through her hair.
"What?" Defiant. Always good at ignoring what he didn't want to hear, or see. Lisa leaning her head on her arms now, watching him.
"You're pretty good with her, huh?" Perhaps if he stopped breathing so loudly, he could hear her breaths, tiny, soft. Almost not there.
"Could she - could she visit me?" He looked up, dragged his eyes away from Tabitha - Boo, Tabs, whatever. Blue-eyed girl. His blue-eyed girl. Back to Lisa, who was still talking, paused, in shock.
"I guess," she said hesitantly. "For a little while. Look, Alex, I don't know what's going to happen. If I can keep her, even. You can't," Tabitha sighed and opened her eyes again, steady, world-secret knowing gaze fastened steadily on his. "You can't get too attached, y'know? Not if you're not going to. Be there."
"Too late," he told the baby, who smiled back at him. "Already attached. Already here."