This story is my happy place; I do not plan on ever finishing it. It will go on and on like a soapie. Might break it up into volumes later.
"Grab a bunch of broken misfits, chuck them in a tribe, add some glitter and loads of weird-as garbage, voila...
"So, you're auditioning for Merida in the live-action adaptation of Brave. Good for you! I hope you get the part." He is following me into the apartment, and he is talking garbage.
I wonder if Tanner ever actually makes sense. I've had a few encounters with him since Monday, and every conversation ended with me being confused or slightly angry. I put the cooler bag on the counter in the kitchen and unzip it.
"What are you talking about?" I ask, and Tanner is grinning at me, looking me up and down.
Oh! Right!
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I am so relieved that I no longer have a crush on him. If I did, I would've been mortified right now. I know what I look like in the mornings when I'm getting ready for school, and it ain't pretty!
"You have the hair near perfect, but the costume is a bit..." he pulls a face and clicks his tongue. "Love the pants, though... You should speak to Willow; she's very good at putting costumes together."
"Really, she is?!" I say, delighted to hear this completely useless piece of information. "Hmm... I should definitely go ask her for advice then," I say matter-of-factly, unpacking the cooler bag. I set the soup container on the counter and look up to glare at Tanner. "What the hell do I need a blooming costume for?!"
"Oh, hello!" My mother is entering the open-plan living-dining-kitchen of the DIY Miniature Dollhouse we call our home. She's had a shower and is wearing the fluffy brown tracksuit she loves to wear when she's going to fall asleep in front of the TV after work. It's old and worn and makes her look as though she's growing mould, but she doesn't care.
That's our Granger women for you; it's all about comfort and familiarity for us! Looks can just suck it!
Well, I do throw in a heavy dose of colour, pattern and texture every chance I get. The more, the merrier. Someone (Noelle) once said that I was using it as camouflage to hide the fact that I am fat. That someone (Noelle) got a gherkin up her nose for her trouble and is still sneezing up pips today.
"Ah! I know you! Sprained ankle, dislocated shoulder, cut in bicep, broken ribs, hairline skull fracture, concussion..." The list goes on and on, my eyes growing wider and wider exponentially, keeping up with it. I am shocked that Tanner is still alive! Alive and looking like that!
'That' being Adonis, the Greek god of beauty.
"You have a good memory," he smiles, putting the dog down so that he can give my mother a hug.
He is hugging my mother?! What the hell?! Why is the grandson of the devil himself hugging my mother?!
"Well, Honey, when a patient as sweet as you show up, we nurses never forget their faces or their names."
"So," I turn to the gloriously beautiful cherub smiling hearts at my mother, the mother who does not know how the object of her affection trampled my heart six years ago. "Tanner is short for Sprained Ankle, Something Shoulder, Lots of Biceps, Numb Skull... and I forgot the rest; is it?"
