Chapter 42: Do I Need a Sliding Scale
Someone said ‘keep a journal, it’ll help you get your thoughts together.’ They’re plenty together! They’re just kind of messed up. Everyone’s are! But I still want to work on them, where they’ll be, I don’t know, laid out here? More real. Not something I have to hide from my mom. So. How do you start a journal?
Well, my name is Kacie Hildalgo, if posterity happens to be reading this. Posterity should stop reading this, because I might just use it to talk about how I want to rub my face all over my boyfriend’s chest forever. Just FYI. It’s so frustrating! He’s right there, he’s super cute, but he’s also older than me. And that makes it ‘immoral.’ They don’t understand true love! Heee heeee heeeeee~ I get to say something like that!
Speaking of true love, I saw the absolute most cavity-inducing thing today!
Miko and Kestral (Miko said Miko’s cool. Kestral hasn’t said anything, but it’s way too early to call her ‘mom,’ even if of course her puppydog of a boy’s going to put a ring on it. Besides, she is the most agressively hip person I know, so.She’d probably want Kestral, maybe even Kes, right?) were talking during the party, and I happened to overhear. ...Does that make me a busybody? Well, it’s fine. I’m fine.
“Isn’t it wonderful? Our firstborn’s all grown up…” Miko sighed dreamily.
“I think it’ll be more wonderful when he starts finishing things,” Kestral answered. I could have given her a piece of my mind, and maybe I would have, if she hadn’t have added, sort of reflectively, “But no, he’s done great. And Magpie’ll do great… And, come to that, we crossed an aspiration off! Not bad!”
“Sure did!.. But. You know, Kestral.”
“I know many things… You wouldn’t happen to have a goal in mind?”
“I do! Our golden years are ahead of us…” She waxed.
“Some of us, anyway,” Kestral added under her breath, allowing her comment to be talked over.
“We’ve got a little more free time… Aaand, well… I always wanted to have a great romance! A love for the ages! A ton of smooches!” She pointed dramatically. “I will not be denied!”
“Hmm...Well. Who am I to deny you? I might want to save Soulmate for someone… But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get the chance for all the smooches I stole when I whisked you off your feet.” With a satisfied smile, Kestral pulled Miko on in. “Sorry, Ulrike. Our best friendship has done its job. I have a real best friend to get to.”
Friendship ended with Ulrike Faust. Now Miko is her new best friend. We were all thinking it, and through what must have been a tremendous force of willlpower, Miko ended up just saying,
“Let’s enjoy some time together!”
“Let’s.”
Sweet, huh? … Would I like something like that? Well, maybe. It’s complicated. I definitely want it, I just want that to not be the only thing I want! And, long-term, it kind of would be.
For example, I wanted to make friends with Carla and Bonnie at the party, because it is
impossible to make too many friends, especially when you’re living in a new neighborhood.
So I started asking them for neighborhood tips.
“Now, what you need to remember while you’re living around here --” Bonnie started off with, before she got interrupted right away.
“Someone keeps a water balloon bucket uphill, like, behind my house? It’s great, and it’s going to get hot enough to use soon!” Carla burst in with a slightly more enthusiastic report for all that.
“...That is true,” Bonnie said, a little more frustrated than I think she gets with her assortment of half-siblings. (I am not sure how I’d feel with a family that big. It’d kind of be nice, but also a lot of work. Family’s a bit of a mixed bag sometimes.)
“Thanks for the tip, though. Really! That sounds like a good spot to get away from it all.”
“It’s great,” Bonnie has to admit. “You and Kite would probably have a lot of fun.”
“Ohhh, yeah… That’d be a wonderful lover’s lookout. All alone, past the road, a firepit beside you... “ Carla sighed dreamily, and I couldn’t help but join her. Wouldn’t something like that be nice? I’ll get it one of these days.
I saw something I probably should put down. I saw Magpie in one of the fancy rooms for Kestral’s whole
thing. Kite used to be a brunet as a kid, FYI. It’s so cute! But that all probably wasn’t what he was looking at. I wonder if he knows? Does he know? I don’t think so, because he said, very quietly,
“...What a foreboding room. Yes, foreboding! That’s the word for it. And puzzling, which is less cool.” This was Magpie quiet, so basically a stage whisper, low and full of feeling. “...I wonder why Mom made so many rooms such as this.”
Technically, Kite’s done with school, so he doesn’t have so much rush to get the garden done in the morning anymore. But his hours are shaky, right? So I’ll keep helping him out. I’ve got his back.
Oh, yeah. I heard something crazy that went down when I was at school. There was a woman over, Luna Vilreal? Something like that.
And she was basically just over entirely so Salim (the old guy who also lives here now for some reason because I guess we’re all just stray cats or something) could knock her up. Wow. That’s a little crazy. And I do mean
entirely, because she is reported to have said,
“This doesn’t need to be romantic, I’m not looking for flowers and chocolate.”
“Right,” is what he said, which sounds to me like the flat answer of a guy too nervous to live. “Right.”
“I just want a legacy… And maybe not to live on that island all alone.”
“So come here. Let’s make it worth our while.”
Which, like, for doing something weirdly business-like, the sweetness of the objective aside (Though, well, it’s not like adoption is really a problem or not having a legacy. Love adopted kids!) is pretty steamy.
Anyway, dear journal, I skipped out of half of school today. It doesn’t really matter, right? I just decided I wanted to leave, so I left! I’ll be fine.
OK, I guess I didn’t ‘just’ decide to leave. I mean, I did. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But I really just wanted to get away from everyone. From those teachers that don’t understand you, from the hassle of doing stuff that doesn’t matter, from wasting my time doing work that won’t do me any good!
What’m I going to do now, anyway? What do I want? Who am I, really? I’m fine, of course, just… I feel sick. Like, I am of course going all-in on this relationship because I love this boy and also I want all of his attention and also I want just run my hands through his hair and have him kiss my neck until my whole neck is just an entirely different color from the rest of me. But also, and less happily, I know I am because I’m always going to do whatever’s in front of me right now. Because that’s what I’ve got. And that’s great and will hopefully result in a lot of pampering, but also, not as great in terms of being someone in the long run.
And I tried laying some of that out to Kite -- no, really, I really am trying to be open, here, and he’s a great listener, once you get used to the fact that he’s sort of tuning in from outer space. But I guess he can see stuff in the heart better out there.
But when I did, and I saw that little worried smile, I had to add one thing:
“Don’t try and fix this. You can give me advice, but… you don’t have to break your back about this.”
“That aint ‘cause you’re still spooked on lettin’ a dude in or tryin’ to get a hand, huh?” He asked me. We ended up walking from the front yard back into our own space, gradually moving into the cool shade.
“No, no,” I told him, which was maybe a bit of a lie. But it was also true. “Because it’s not your responsibility to make me someone. I want you to -- to care about me as I am.”
And that took a load off of his shoulders, and he smiled, and like it was easy as anything, he said, “Absotively posolutely, dude.”
So of course I had to steal a kiss.
“Y’could look at other folks. ‘Course, that aint always gonna help an’ all, cause you gotta run where your needle’s pointin, and not just fall to the man, you dig?”
“Of course! You don’t have to worry about that! But what sort of examples do you have in mind?”
“Well, aint we got a world full a’ cats an’ chicks an’ dudes?” He drummed his fingers on the table, until he counted it off. “‘S like that even when there’s that personal sorta you, that’s kinda livin’ somewhere where maybe you don’t always getta show that, I also think, like… Some cats get their inner eye ‘I’ when they really getta share it with someone, maybe?”
“Like, take Uncle Johnny. Chillin’ with his kids, like, as we speak. I don’t know the whole hist’ry, like. But even though he always had his dreams, he kinda… found himself when he really started
carin f’r them kids, those folks he could really let inta his life.”
“He does seem to have them over a lot.” Even if I think I hear the older set and the younger set arguing about the movie, with brief, intermittent bursts of groaning at his punnery…
“An, like, Uncle Akira -- trip, man, I was there for that, too.”
“He’s with his girlfriend tonight, right?” (He was. They had a nice sleepover. She apparently thinks this house is comparatively quiet. I do not want to know the madhouse in the Haas-Faust part of the neighborhood.)
“Yeah. But, like, I think it wasn’t just, like, meetin’ Ulrike that helped. An’ I’m not gonna take much credit, neither, maaan. ‘Cause he wanted somethin’ different. He got that drive to change somethin, stop tearin’ him up, you dig?... And he got that when Ulrike an’ he had a real talk, just the two a’ them as two souls in the world.”
“But let’s flip the hand around, dude,” which, accompanied by a gesture, made me laugh. “Cause I think there’re folks who like wanderin’ with what they do, an’ that gives ‘em meanin. Taste new tastes, like, catch the tunes, see a big groovy cosmos. That kinda rad thing.”
“Like Miko, right?” She’d told me earlier she was going to start trying to refine her singing some, but I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t kind of a wall there. I’m pretty sure song lyrics aren’t acceptable, for some reason.
“Yeah. And Mom’s, like, Mom. She’s sorta a shark, dig?”
“I think so… And what about you? I mean, I know you’re worried about not getting time for yourself… But what would you call that ‘self,’ what draws you to him… I guess.” It’s a lame question, but it’s important! Kite’s the one who started talking about this.
“Aww, y’don’t wanna listen to me jab on about --”
“I do.”
He grins.
“Trip, Kite aint got a thesis… I just try an’ do what seems right, you dig?” He hesitated in that way of his, sort of staring off into a distance. “...When I’m doodlin’, ‘s like I’m tryin’ the hold somethin’, dig? Tryin’ to hold somethin’ somewhere far out, tho, like, it could just be at yer face an’ all. An I want someone to catch it through my lenses, an’ hear what I’m sayin’ in paint. That’s what.”
And I can’t answer anything to that. I don’t have anything I really want to communicate in a long-term sort of way. But it’s a lot to think about.
I’m not sure what Kite was trying to communicate in that picture he did of a bird by the feeder -- but it was beautiful. A masterpiece, even, and Kestral was all “Ohhhh, this is going on the museum! Until you can make a pricier one! Look at this bird! My son made a fine bird!”
Honestly, I think she was happier with the quality than he was!
And I just sat and thought by the fire. How do other people do this so easily?! I should be able to get a grip! I have a better one than some people, I’m not my sister, I’m the sister who has it together, but! But! I want to feel satisfied with stuff after I make a decision, and not just
before. I don’t need big, take-over-the-world dreams, but I should have some!
I should have been able to not catch things too on-fire, too, but no dice. But, hey, on the other hand: I didn’t burn the chairs down, so that’s me: 1, forces of nature: 0! That’s the way it oughta be.
So, I heard something while checking out the attic, which is basically a couple of little rooms and a hallway. It’s pretty, pretty boring, all-told, which is not what I was expecting from this family’s attic. I mean, they have a secret dinner basement that looks like a medieval dungeon.They should at least contain one crazy old woman they locked up there.
It has Salim, which probably doesn’t count, and his bubble machine, which also does not count but might bring everyone a little closer to counting. It also contained Kite this time.
“I’m just not sure how I feel about all of this,” Salim was saying. “What does this say about my sense of ethics? That my body can be bought and sold for a really comfy chair?”
“Duuuude,” Kite answered. And, after a puff of bubbles that took a basically infinite length of time, added,” Bodies’re just, like, things, man. They don’t gotta have, like, the moral imperative patched on f’r whatcha do w’em.”
“Doesn’t that path merely lead to a life of libertine excess? A bottomless pit of excuses, forgiving any action, as long as it satisfies carnal desire?” He waved a hand, delivering this grand pronouncement as a poet on stage might, with the emphasis placed in deliberate ways. It’s a shame open mic night’s never catered to writers in our neck of the woods.
“Not any, man. But if it aint hurtin’ no one, aint that the thing? Like, sortin’ everythin’ on good an’ bad by what’s kinda pure and what’s kinda grody, what’s, like, hip or what’s square? Man, that’s just fallin’ f’r the trap a puttin’ ideas over people, you dig?” Kite considered the flavor of bubbles. “What matters is what you’re down for, what you’re cool with -- an’ you give someone the same chance, dig? But if you aint on for what Mom’s askin, I’ll back you. You don’t gotta follow The Man, man!”
“...I think calling Kestral ‘the man’ is a good way to get your nose broken.”
“Not
a man, man. That’s a bad scene.
The Man. Capital T, Capital The Man.”
Salim nodded as the distinction dawned.
“...Thank you… Thanks. I’ll hold up my end of the bargain, but… Within reason, I think.”
“Good. ‘Slong as you’re cool, dude.” Kite nodded and blew another round of bubbles, quietly watching the line rise up into the air and pop, one by one. “Man, aint they just the moon y’see at day?”
“...Perhaps so.”
I hoped writing that last part would make it make sense. It did not.
***
My mother. My mother. My mother.
My mother called me up to dinner at the diner today. I was not psyched.
“What do you want?”
“I just want dinner with my daughter, that’s all! You don’t have to be suspicious of your own mother!” Which means she probably wants someone to talk to about a new ex. I didn’t like the last guy anyway. Ok, ok, lay it on me.
What she wasn’t expecting was that I brought Kite. And she was now
also less than thrilled.
“I wanted a nice meal to patch things up and check on my precious girl, and after all this, you decide you need to invite your sugar daddy.”
“Hey again, Ms. Hidalgo,” said Kite, because that was what she had said instead of ‘hello.’ I think that was a sarcastic one? Maybe? Maybe I can help this boy get in touch with his inner snark? I’ll count it as progress anyway.
“I understand. Young love is exciting! But you’re setting yourself up for a hard fall if you rush in too fast. You didn’t rush in, did you? Promise me that.”
“It’s. Fine. Mom… Please don’t call my boyfriend a sugar daddy. He’s a part of my life. I don’t want to exclude my family from my family, alright?”
But it’s Mom. And so this is going to be difficult.
“I’m only saying. I thought I loved your father, but when I got to really know him, I saw what a sort of man he really was. A deadbeat who left me alone and confused and burdened with a kid who’d kill my chances of finding love. And then again, even! No offense, Kacie. I know you try your best, like I have. I’m just calling it how I see it, to protect you.”
“Not. Helping. If you came out to say all of this, why didn’t you just leave me alone?” Which isn’t exactly what I said. I said it with maybe 200% more forbidden words. Maybe more than 200. Do I need a sliding scale?
“...You’re right. I’m sorry,” she said, in her making up voice. And I kind of hope she is. I mean, she did call me out there, right? “I usually leave people, not the other way around. It’s hard for me to accept… But I do want to be a part of your life. And any granchild’s, provided they disinfect first…” Which is standard for her and kids, it’s not a special layer of dislike, probably. “I’m a little worried about it, and once I start worrying…”
“You run your mouth, I know. I forgive you for now.” Maybe this time, since I’m away from home, it’ll stick. I keep hoping that one day, she’ll approve of me. I don’t know why. I’m pretty smart, so why am I so dumb about her?
“So, uh, Ms. Hidalgo…” Kite decided to try and segue off this whole thing. His feelings must have been super hurt, but he was still sticking it out. “I don’t really, like, know your kinda gig, dig? I’m doin’ paints an’ all, but I was wonderin.”
“Well, right now I’m an assistant manager, but…” And she goes on about her long history of job-jumping. Her dot-com days. Her brief stint as a journalist. That time she worked on cars, of all things. Things settled down. It was actually nice. I decided I am
not into journalism.
“Thanks for the save,” I told him at one point.
“Aw, it aint a thing.” Still, we were able to get dinner, and leave, and I was able to do something important, too.
“Kite?...I’m sorry my mom was so hostile to everything. It’s not fair to you, and I know that was sort of a disaster.” Even if he says it’s nothing, that must have hurt, and he shouldn’t have to pretend like it doesn’t. I shouldn’t have had to pretend like it didn’t. “And I might have gone overboard, too, throwing fuel on that. So I’m sorry for that.
“You didn’t, Kace. It was kinda rough, but, y’know?”
And he leans in and plants a kiss.
“Bein chill’s my bag, it don’t gotta be yours. Yer the one it really bugged… But I think you were pretty cool tonight, dig?.”
That boy.
Well, that’s all I wanted to say for now. It’s been a busy couple of days. Maybe I’ll write again sometime.
