17.02.07 - 1:44 p.m.
a. and i nearly killed devon before we even knew her, when she was still in high school and too timid (imagine) to admit that the dress we'd stuffed her into had disabled her lungs. two hours later when devon fainted, a. and i stood, sheepish, in front of jon, to explain that we honestly thought the thing fit. you two are intimidating! he hollered. do you think she would tell you that it didn't fit?
i found this ridiculous; a. was intimidating, sure, but not me. we played good cop/bad cop, me occupying the role of slightly apologetic, occasionally also terrified one, and a. playing the one who drives a dodge swinger with bullhorns affixed to the grill.
she and i tried to relate to one another because it was expected of us. we went shopping, but those outings usually ended in snits, with neither of us spending a cent. we watched movies together but our tastes differed so drastically and our mutual pseudolove could not withstand two hours of zombies in my case and french in hers.
when i moved away the first time, she refused to say goodbye and instead offered a middle finger which she raised above the roof of her car as she drove down the whole length of C street.
i know a lot about her. i met her parents and brother one time, when we went on a day trip to olympia and took a small detour to lacey. their house was modest and her father sat, nonplussed, in his recliner, for the duration of our visit. i understood her distance as defense: she had obviously grown up with people who made no effort to hide their disinterest. her framed 8x10 senior portrait was the only evidence of her existence in a house which was otherwise filled with memorabilila from her brother's boxcar derbies and paraphenalia supporting her father's railroad fascination.
today she sent me an email with a subject line of 'thank you so much.' the body said,for the lasagne, the love, and all that and then some. she signed it love, dar. this is the most sentiment she has ever expressed to or in front of me.