Mary and Daphne #206

I would’ve noticed Mary’s surprised I-can’t-believe-she-just-said-that face, but I was too busy thinking to myself, holy fudge muffins, Daphne, I can’t believe I just said that! Cuz I still can’t believe I said that. True story.

Mary got visibly anxious with the clenching and unclenching of her fists and pacing in such a tight circle that really she just turned around and turned around again. It would’ve made me very nervous, but (A) I had already made myself very nervous and (2) I was too busy catastrophizing in my head to notice very much.

“What …” Mary asked.

“No!”

“What no?”

“No, I don’t know what I mean or what that means or what I want.”

“Deep breath.”

Why!?! Which of us is hyperventilating? I’ll tell you who – ME! That’s who’s hyperventilating! “Heeeeehoooooo.” Give Mary credit for having a good idea. ‘There goes, Daphne,’ people say, ‘She always gives credit where credit is due, but damn does she have big feelings she has hard time sorting out sometimes.’ Those people have a point is what they have.

“If sit down, will you sit with me,” Mary asked.

“Yeah,” I said and didn’t even flop down in Mary’s lap. I’m not a flopper. In fact, I’m quite rigid. Really. Shut up!

“Who are you mad at?”

So many people! But actually, “No one. I only thought I was. Or I was but I’m over it. Or I was mad at life and took it out on others … On you. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad we had this talk finally.”

“What now?”

“What do you mean what now?”

“I finally called you my mommy.”

“Well, you should probably start calling me ‘mommy’ or maybe ‘mama’ all the time.”

“Hmmph! No.”

“Mommy.”

“Mary.”

“Mama.”

“Mary.”

“Ma -ma.”

“Ma-ry.”

“You are such a tease,” she said and tickled my side where I’m ticklish which is why she tickles me there. Did I mention she’s mean ever, cuz she is even when she’s being very nice. “Nothing changes, Daffy.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Not unless you want it to. Do you want something to change?”

“No … Yeah.”

“What?”

“The next time we see Ann, you’re too busy performatively smothering me with affection to notice her.”

“What are we performing?”

“Best lesbian ageplay couple. It’s very important for reasons I can’t explain that Jo and Ann know that we’re way gayer for each other than the two of them could ever be.”

“You’re a silly goose. Do you know that?”

“I’m a jealous, bitchy goose riddled with insecurities.”

“You’re a goose who’s much too hard on herself. But ya know what?”

“You like me anyway?”

“I like you anyway, and I think it’s just a phase you’ll grow out of.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Little girls go through all sorts of phases.”

“Marrrry! I’m not a little girl.”

“You’re my little girl.”

“I suppose you wanna have make-up sex now.”

“Why? Did we have a fight? … O! You’re doing that thing where you get crudely sexual to distract from your embarrassment.”

“O my gawd! Stop calling me out.”

She’s always calling me out. I mean, yeah, someone needs to cuz there’s literally no other limit on the endless wellspring of nonsense that flows outta me, but she could also, ya know, not.

“You’re over-tired,” she straight up called me out again.

“Only cuz I’ve been stressing about this party for days and got my emotions all knotted up,” I straight up called myself out. Mary gave me a peck on the cheek and went to the bathroom, coming back up with a warm, damp washcloth.

“Look up for me,” she said and I turned my quote ‘pretty face’ up unquote so she could wipe at the almost non-existent tear streaks on my cheeks.

“You’re mothering me,” I said super sarcastically but, ya know, not.

“I’m taking care of you. When do I not wipe your cheeks when you’ve been crying?”

“Never. You always do.”

She folded the washcloth and held it in front of my nose. “Honk.”

“I don’t hafta blow.”

“Humor me.”

Ugh. Fine. “(Hooooonk!)” So turns out I did hafta.

“Sorry I got teary,” I told her. “Promise I don’t do it to emotionally blackmail you.”

“O, shush. Lay back; all the way like you’re going to sleep.”

“Um, why?”

“Cuz you’re going to sleep, silly. Be right back; just gonna toss this in the hamper, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

“You’re not coming to bed?”

“Of course I am; right after I tuck you in.”

“O…kay.”

“I like tucking you in, okay? It’s a mommy thing.”

“We need to negotiate that word,” I said cuz it’s still super complicated and let’s, ya know, not get carried away or even really think of what I said as having any meaning at all. Yep, that would be the safest play: return to our state of détente and denialism.

“Not tonight we don’t.”

“I’m still not a little girl.”

“You’re still my little girl.”

And then! And then she put the washcloth in the hamper, kissed me on the forehead, and tucked the covers all the way up under my chin. And then! And then!!! She got in bed next to me and snuggled up so close and made these happy sighing noises.

I think I make her happy or something.