cimorene

last night at rachel's in the middle of taal my phone rang (i forgot to turn it off, bugger), but then i couldn't hang up--it was daddy's sister jenny, the aunt who doesn't eat cooked food and the mother of my little spoiled!beyond!imagining!cousin, perrin. i mean, i didn't feel i could, because she wanted to touch base with the family, and as it turns out, i didn't miss much in the movie--a bad musical number. but i was standing there, in rachel's kitchen, and the last time i'd seen it before yesterday was the morning after senior prom, when rachel's mother made all of us pancakes, and we sat there with our hair grimy with hairspray and smears of makeup still on our faces in our pajamas and i defended the honor of britney spears to all of my friends ganging up on me.

rachel's house is of an age with mine, but a townhouse, two stories, belonging to someone much more straight-laced than the wealthy farmers who built mine. the doors are the same, but there are fancynesses to the wood on the wide frames, and the woodwork's painted white in a lot of places instead of stained, and the wooden floors are a harder kind of wood. i stared at my reflection in the glass panes of a door leading to a sunroom, and listened to the dishwasher. and my aunt talked about how she hopes i'm okay, and how she doesn't know if she approves of my hermit-like habits because she's not convinced they're healthy for me, and about how of course this feeling of dissociation i have is normal.

rachel's parents came through and i backed into the corner by the stairwell, and her mother whispered 'do you want some pizza, cim?'

and i said 'no thanks' but then i ate a piece anyway, because i never like to remind people that i'm allergic. (i scraped most of the sauce off and drowned it out in peach-blueberry coffee cake and chai tea, and it didn't give me any stomach problems.)

while i was in the kitchen everyone else left, but i stayed and watched the end of the movie with rachel's family. it was cold in their living room.