J minus 3

Monday my mind thanked me for taking the weekend off but prodded me every now and then to remind me of the recently enforced speed limit. I listened, drove myself carefully, ignored texts from the man I was meant to meet and eat on saturday, planned to teach things that would stretch the students rather than me, gently laughed at myself when my spoken words didn't come out right. It's a pms thing, my hormones go straight to my tongue.

I even asked for help. Yes, me! Ms Inde-fucking-pendent-to-the-death, voiced, out loud, that I wasn't able to juggle all the balls today. Better, I didn't automatically take the shitty end for someone else to do the fun part.

Better yet, when an aggrieved A asked afterward 'So what's given you the arse?', I didn't shrug it off but stated that I didn't have the pigging arse, I was stressed. Added that they were two very different states of mind even if I am a woman.

'Ok, what's stressing you so much?' he sighed. His hands didn't waver from holding the flame to my cigarette but I saw the air quotes anyway. Oh but how I want to kill his beautiful face when he does that.

I didn't, of course.

Instead I took a deep lungful of carcinogens before saying 'I have to go to court on thursday and it's... a bit, unpleasant'

'Shit. What for?' Inquisitive now, suddenly very aware that there are things I've kept from him. He thought he had me, thought he knew all about me. Silly, naive boy-man.

'To see my step-dad go to prison'

'Shit. What for?' (I should probably explain here that I didn't fall for him due to his extensive vocabulary)

He has divorce and contact issues ongoing as well as a driving offence, court is his second home. I see his mind jumping to the obvious (to him) conclusion that I'm being an over-reactive, histrionic adopted-step-daughter worried at losing her parental figure. Rolling my internal eyes I say,

'For fucking about with me and my little sister'

I hear it and feel it's a bit of a cop-out on my part but my mind prods me with that stick again, whispers in my ear that being brave enough to tell doesn't have to mean spelling it out for the hard of thinking.

My mind sounds just like my beautiful sister in full, professional, flight as it says that.

Enough progress for one day. I change the subject, ask after his issues, watch him dive gratefully, big head first into the pool of relief that is talking about himself while I nod and gesticulate as appropriate, smoking my cigarette.