Arc One [5]
Author: Cha Ma Mib
Title: Hereditary
Rating: G
Word Count: 333
Headaches have become her cross to bear. The empty space in her head is like a tumor.
"You're taking a car this time," she says from the kitchen sink when Marco comes downstairs and takes his shoes off. "And you're taking me with you."
He looks surprised and then abashed, but her face is made of stone. Years trapped in her head has honed her observational skills. For about a mile neither of them say anything, except for Marco's muttered apology that he doesn't entirely remember how to get there by car, just by air.
"You've been turning into lions and tigers and bears for that little girl, huh?" she finally says.
"She's the only kid whose big brother literally gets her a pony," he says.
Eva drums her fingers on the window, letting the scenery slide past into a throbbing blur of periphery.
"You didn't tell me," she says simply. Not a question, just a statement.
If she were to look over at him, she'd see how dutifully he's keeping his eyes on the road, for once.
"Sorry, Mom," he says quietly.
She sighs and shakes her head. It feels like her brain is sloshing around, unmoored, clods of gray matter thumping temple to temple. "It wasn't an accusation."
"Good. I don't want to get a life sentence in dish duty."
"How long have you known?"
"A bit more than a year."
"I guess that's not that long to play pretend." She lets herself smile a bit. It's less tension in her face, if anything. Her son is still very much like her - five years of absence hasn't done the slightest to change that. "So tell me, do you charge for the pony rides or do you spare some charity on a toddler?"
"Well, you know, there's only so much profit I can make in used Hello Kitty stickers and half-eaten crayons," he says with a grin.
Momentarily, she lets their chuckling slick over the dark, selfish feeling in her stomach.
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Title: Hereditary
Rating: G
Word Count: 333
Headaches have become her cross to bear. The empty space in her head is like a tumor.
"You're taking a car this time," she says from the kitchen sink when Marco comes downstairs and takes his shoes off. "And you're taking me with you."
He looks surprised and then abashed, but her face is made of stone. Years trapped in her head has honed her observational skills. For about a mile neither of them say anything, except for Marco's muttered apology that he doesn't entirely remember how to get there by car, just by air.
"You've been turning into lions and tigers and bears for that little girl, huh?" she finally says.
"She's the only kid whose big brother literally gets her a pony," he says.
Eva drums her fingers on the window, letting the scenery slide past into a throbbing blur of periphery.
"You didn't tell me," she says simply. Not a question, just a statement.
If she were to look over at him, she'd see how dutifully he's keeping his eyes on the road, for once.
"Sorry, Mom," he says quietly.
She sighs and shakes her head. It feels like her brain is sloshing around, unmoored, clods of gray matter thumping temple to temple. "It wasn't an accusation."
"Good. I don't want to get a life sentence in dish duty."
"How long have you known?"
"A bit more than a year."
"I guess that's not that long to play pretend." She lets herself smile a bit. It's less tension in her face, if anything. Her son is still very much like her - five years of absence hasn't done the slightest to change that. "So tell me, do you charge for the pony rides or do you spare some charity on a toddler?"
"Well, you know, there's only so much profit I can make in used Hello Kitty stickers and half-eaten crayons," he says with a grin.
Momentarily, she lets their chuckling slick over the dark, selfish feeling in her stomach.
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