Chapter 120 - Maximum Brightness Snow has been falling from the gray sky for days on end, which means I cannot go to school. I don't mind at all, for school is a . . . bad place. It's filled with people who have rocks inside their brains and shards of glass piercing their hearts. A black cloud hangs over the building, like the gray clouds but visible only to me.
In these frigid days and dark nights, I retreat to the place that is my sanctuary: the Papyrus Memorial Library. Here, I read and read, beginning after breakfast and finishing (or being forced to finish) a few hours after dinner. I read whatever I can get my hands on: comic books, children's books, biographies, fantasies, historical fiction, letters from my father to my mother and vice versa (I gave up that practice after the first week), and am slowly going through the library, shelf by shelf.
I do realize that I have a father, which was an enormous relief to my mother. She thought that, the one time that I met him, I was too young to remember. I do recall quite clearly, I'm simply uninterested. My father is a man named Stephen. He looks like me. That is all.
I have been trying to explain this to my mother for weeks, yet she refuses to listen! I can understand her sentiment, but it seems ridiculous that I be forced to spend time with a complete stranger. This meeting happened to coincide with my first (dreaded) day of school, in which all of my fears were affirmed, so I spent the day doing my homework. It all worked out quite well.
On the dramatic side of life, otherwise known as my mother's existence: Lionel has discovered that she has a boyfriend, but, using a maneuver known as the "Smooth Recovery," she has wiped his mind of this information and they are back to business as usual.
People don't seem to expect my mother to be smart--probably because of the way she looks and dresses. Half of the time, they think she's a model; the other half is convinced that she's a pop star. But ever since I was born I could touch her thoughts, and I know she's much smarter than anyone gives her credit for, including me. That's how she can juggle so many lovers.
Not to mention her renowned discoveries in science, which she keeps quiet about: she prefers it when people underestimate her, particularly in the conference room. It "
makes it that much more fun when I crush them."
Between work and her string of male companions, I often dine alone, which I prefer. Eating with other people means that you can't eat as fast as you like, and you have to speak and listen instead of imagining that you're a pterodactyl perched on a cliff, gazing out over a barren landscape as you tear away at the carcass of your prey.
At least there are always the dreams.
At times, I ride on my bicycle (which is a bicycle only when I choose for it to be) and look at the footprint my family has left on Sunset Valley. There are the buildings we own, the properties we maintain, but what I like most of all are the murals. Some have been here since the second generation, created by Lolita. Others were created by Brandon. Or Kara. And here they remain.
Mother is so stressed by her work lately that I've been trying to force her to have some fun--which is, after all, my job. I am the light, joyful side of the universe. I have responsibilities that don't allow me to play, but I still enjoy making others happy.
Her new windsurfing hobby means she can rarely pick me up from the library, but that was always iffy before so I think the advantages outweigh the disadvantages. Nataliya finally has something to distract her from work!
Naturally, the one time she pulls up in front of the library to give me a ride home . . . an elderly Hasan Varney, in case you didn't recognize him.
I knew that they were going to the art museum, where she takes the two non-boyfriends instead of home, so that I don't notice.
Later in the night, she got a call from Stephen asking her to meet him at the school--so at this point, I'm not really sure of what to think. Clearly Lionel is more of a Woohoo-lackey than anything else, but I don't know what she thinks of Stephen and Hasan. Perhaps she is Hermia: loving one man and pursued by another. It's more than possible that she loves them both, but can she choose one to bring with her into the next life?
At this point, she returned to the museum where Hasan patiently waited (like a puppy--they're all puppies).
Before leaving for work.
I love my mother. I love her, I respect her, and I was raised by her. But now I feel like the mother, because she is not living up to her full potential. She needs to be the full moon, not a crescent, and somehow I believe that she won't achieve the maximum brightness until she is no longer weighed down by the dynasty.
On the final day of childhood, I called into Elysi Towers and told them Mother was sick, then told Mother that Elysi Towers was closed due to an outbreak of llama pox. While she bemoaned a day of progress lost, I packed a bag and walked her down to the beach before showing her the speedboat I had purchased for her upcoming birthday. You cannot boat very far in Sunset Valley, but we did our best to reach the lighthouse before admitting defeat.
I received a surprise as well: she gave me my very own Jr. Windsurfing Board! Part of my consciousness envisioned that I was a mermaid warrior slicing through enemy troops, zipping past ships and through enormous wave. But the rest knew that I was having fun at the beach with my mother--and, for once, that was enough.
Later, when we were too tired to windsurf, Mother relaxed on the beach and read while I played in the sand. Wait . . . there's something wrong with this picture . . .
Aha! Much better.
Upon returning home, we waited until midnight then Mother blew out the candles on her birthday cake! I was very excited, while she was very . . . apprehensive.
Isn't she simply lovely? Of course, she insists that she has turned into a wrinkled hag, while I do my best to remind her that it's just the Mid-Life Crisis talking.
That night, it was her turn to cheer while I blew out the candles.
As with every birthday, I felt the sparkles surround me, dancing with their own brilliant light. I felt the rush of emotion, the rush of joy and light, even as my body stretched in strange ways, trying to cope with my sudden growth--oops! Picture Limit!
