Life is Funny Like That

Twuntee-thry. The Cure for Depression

"Boyfriend? Ha!" Daffy chokes out between a laugh and something close to hysterical crying.

Her aunt pushes up her glasses, rotating the fabric and clamping the foot again. This is a new emotion, one she hasn't had the chance to see yet. But, for the past two weeks, there have been several new emotions she never thought existed till her neice exhibited them for her, one by one. Almost every day.

The first week consisted of mostly different versions of happiness, sprinkled with the occasional anxiety and embarrassment. Her ears were ringing with "Adrian this" or "Adrian that" and however annoying it became, it was short-lived. The second week became more depressing when Daffy stopped showering and caring about her laundry. Her aunt would every now and then, find her building her fort and discover that the ice cream supply disappeared overnight. Those days, the house was quiet. Adrian's name wasn't to be spoken of.

Today was the first day that Daffy has gotten out. Not to her aunt's surprise, it was to get waffles. But she was surprised that it was just waffles and not more ice cream. Perhaps she's past that phase? You can never understand teenagers.

"How old are you, Daffodil?" She asks the question before looking over to see her neice lifting heavy eyes upward.

Daffy yawns, gathering her voice after the five-minute nap she fell into.

"Twenty-two... Why do you ask?"

"What? That old? I thought you were still eighteen." Her aunt looks at her shrewdly.

"Are you joking?" Daffy blinks, sitting up in the chair. "I went to college, Charlice."

"You dropped out, didn't you, or something?" Charlice busies herself with her sewing; the thread knots up in the needle. She tsks and grabs her scissors.

"I hated college," Daffy mutters under her breath.

"Ah, I remember, now. You were all depressed and whatnot." The knot is pulled out and snipped with quick efficiency. She sets the fabric in the platform and revs the machine. "It's surprising you hung onto your part-time job all this time." The whirring carries through the small kitchen, covering up Daffy's silence. 

"You're doing it again!" Her aunt exclaims. "You bought waffles, but how many times do I have to tell you, it's potatoes that cure depression, not waffles or ice cream all the girls are obsessed with, these days. Ask your grandmother and her mother. Potatoes cure depression." She points her scissors at the girl sitting languidly with her leg bobbing. 

"I'm not depressed."

Her aunt ignores her statement.

"I can vouch for myself. Back when you were still a baby and I was living alone. Boy, I knew the blues better than anyone else. Your mother would bring me mashed potatoes and bam! I was instantly better!"

Daffy puffs her cheeks in boredom, reaching down to a stack of magazines by the leg of the chair. She flips the pages, not reading anything.

"That's called comfort food, Charlice. You Germans with your potatoes..."

"You're German, too, young lady." Charlice points out.

"Apparently only partially. I don't like potatoes." Daffy tosses the magazine to the floor and picks up another off the top of the stack. "Must be my dad's side."

"Don't speak those words in this house!" The sewing stops. "I never!" She tsks and shakes her head. "I aughtta ship you to Germany right now and show you what a real potato tastes like."

"Ha, do they even butter them down there?" Daffy turns the first page and flops it to the floor to try another.

"Daffodil O'Brian, your grandmother would be so ashamed right now."

Daffy smirks to herself, doing her best to forget the face that's been stuck on her mind all day. It hurts a little to think about. Has he already forgotten about her?

"Charlice... Have you ever dated anyone?" Her fingers curl the magazine into a tube.

The sewing carries on as her aunt glances over at her.

"A few times, but I always ended it after the third date."

"How come?"

"I stopped getting butterflies." Charlice chuckles lightly as she cuts the threads on the fabric. She pauses in thought. "The only reason I would get married is because I was afraid of being lonely. But getting married, I realized, isn't going to help after a few years." She bobs her head, the little ringlets of curly black hair bouncing up and down. "Loneliness is a part of being human. Other people can solve it short-term, but it will never be a long term solution. I figured I might as well save myself the hassle of gettin' a husband who will only end up bothering me to high heaven!" She sighs and sets her work on her lap. "I think it was God's will that I never married. I'm happy."

"So, you never really, really liked someone?" Daffy swallows as the magazine becomes a tight cylinder in her hands. 

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Charlice looks up to the ceiling as if asking for divine assistance. "You're in love with that boy. Communicate, child! Don't you have a phone?" Her voice goes down in pitch as a string of German ends the conversation.

The sewing machine resumes its work and Daffy sits still, a little lost with herself.

Communicate? Just like that?

She pulls out her phone, staring at the black screen as if waiting for some sort of beast to pop out and eat her in one bite. She turns it on. 

No beast appears as she finds his name and presses the button, ignoring all the voices in her  head that tell her this is against every dating rule she's aware of.

The line immediately goes to voicemail. Daffy hangs up before the beep. She pulls another magazine off the stack, doing her best to focus on the title. Maybe her ADHD is acting up. Is that even a thing? Does ADHD even act up? Of all the years she's had it, she couldn't be sure if it was a constant or if it came in waves. It feels like normal living stuff so, what does ADHD do when it acts up? Why does she even wonder about it?

A knock on the door shakes the very air as the sewing machine stops and the magazine plops to the floor with a thunk.

The two of them look at each other, Charlice's face sullen and Daffy's, almost white.

"Should I-"

"I'm going to bed." Her aunt stands up, taking her glasses off and unplugging the sewing machine. "Say hi to your boyfriend for me and please stay quiet." The bedroom door closes and Daffy fumbles with her messy hair.

Another knock and she jumps to her feet, reaching the door in three seconds flat.

"I was beginning to think you-" The door is open. A rush of damp, cold air fills the entryway.

Kimmy stands at the threshold. Her hands are clasped together as she gives a strange look at Daffy's rushed state. One hand is stuck in a scrunchy, her other holds her hair in a frazzled nest.

"Trying a new hairstyle?" she offers the shocked silence.

==============Oct-20-22==============
pub, Nov-2-22

it'd be interesting if Kimmy and Charlice met.

there's a dating rule somewhere, that says if your guy doesn't actively pursue you like calling you first and arranging time to meet you, he's just not that into you and you should probably end it there. so Daffy believes if she waits for Adrian, maybe he'll prove he cares by calling her first. of course, i can't say this rule is always right. i'm sure there are plenty of exceptions so don't come at me