A Kiss Goodnight at the End of Forever

Chapter 4 Pt 2 - The Talk

"Okay, Mom, lower your shoulder a tiny bit, then cross your arm over and around me... That's it. Now Dad, cross yours over and around..." As Martha and James followed their instructions, Serafina brought their parents' hands together on top of their stomach. "There. Juuust right."

And we are! James felt Serafina's head nestle perfectly into his armpit, their shoulder into the curve of his lat, and the bend of their elbows locked as if formed from a factory mold. He took a guess that Martha mirrored his experience, making them a three headed organism in peaceful equilibrium.

"I mean," Serafina added. "If you guys wanted to start using deodorant, I wouldn't stop you. But close enough."

"It's uncanny," Martha said, shifting her weight slightly without changing position.

"We're only able to do this for another three months or so," Serafina said.

"Why's that?" James asked.

"I grow," Serafina said. A silent moment passed. "Why did I say that? I'm sorry. That was stupid." They dropped their head and James felt his ribs pinch.

"Please don't say that, sweetie," Martha said. "Nobody's perfect."

Serafina took in and let out a large breath. "Right," they said. Then again, more cheerfully, "Right. Sorry. We shouldn't waste time lamenting time's march. What would you like to hear about tonight?"

James looked to Martha who gave a quizzical shrug. "Well," he said. "There's something I'm curious about, actually. It's something your mother and I had, up until recently, been stressing over quite a bit, in fact."

"Ah yes," Serafina said. "The Talk..."

∞ ☆ ∞

The 12th of June, 2003, My First Life

One week after my last day of kindergarten, I sat alone at the lego table in my garage. On the outskirts of the table, between The Shire and Mos Eisley, I'd created my own sub-territory. It was a small square boundary, unimaginative and inelegant, made of mostly blue pieces with other colors mixed in haphazardly to fill the gaps. Within the square sat two female minifigures.

It had been almost three weeks since Hannah, my best friend from across the street, had moved to New York. LA just doesn't have New York's culture, I'd heard her father tell mine.

Kindergarten hadn't been easy. I never seemed to fit in – like everyone was part of some club with rules and jokes that everyone knew but me. And then there were my accidents... they didn't help.

But Hannah had stuck by my side. Well... she didn't stop the other kids from teasing me about the accidents, but at least she didn't join in. And almost every day after school we would play. I didn't know what 'culture' was or why it was important enough to take her away from me. But I was pretty sure that she was the last friend I'd ever have.

This Hannah needed a chair. I hopped off my stool and searched for one in the bin of loose pieces under the table.

"Sera?" my mother called from inside the house. I continued to dig through the pieces, each dive of my hand as loud as a car crash. Did 'culture' have anything to do with chairs? Maybe not, but somehow I reasoned that lego-Hannah was more likely to stay if she had a place to sit. Finally, I found one and hopped back on my stool. "Sera, dear?" my mother repeated.