Chapter Eight

It was Wednesday. As usual, Charlotte was doing the dishes after herself Deborah, David and her husband. She new she had to take care of them at least once a week. As usual, they had piled up during the week, so that she had to fill and refill the sink about eight times when doing it. She stood there thinking about the young boy who's eye she had been caught having an affair with a few months ago, asking herself why that boy didn't ever see in himself that he was into something he shouldn't be.

She on her hand, had it in her to feel that it wasn't for everyone to see as the good thing they would like to be having, something they shouldn't represent themselves as, because she and she had thought he too, were actually better than that such a relationship was there in being oneself. But the boy had started to brag, or at least sort of, about her 'eagerness' about him, which she had put on for a show of that she was happy; but decadence wasn't her thing to be called “eager” about! Her happiness was not deep, since she appreciated the life of fidelity, and therefore the love story shouldn't have been talked about, she thought.

She felt that perhaps she should be scolding him by saying that she faked it all, saying that her pretension was total apart from the weakness in her – from being left alone so much in her apartment – and that this pretension had been used by that horny slut of a man who was he in order to pretend she was a bit like him, even. On the other hand, she had enjoyed herself with him, and therefore wanted to show that she could appreciate the sort of friendship he had offered. She wished for a while that she could be like the men around her, unappreciative of discretion, or what to call it.

It came to her how her daughter had been into thinking such a way for a day or so, after she had told her about her father's and brother's words about infidelity and such. She wondered to what extend, and if so how, that could lead her daughter to be assaulted by that lesbian in school, that very next day. ... I wonder, she thought, if thoughts about being filthy sends out vibes, or whatever, that they (the sexual predators) can sense, somehow.

She decided to try to ask Deborah herself what she thought about that. She would usually be home two hours earlier than her father, which was a few hours away, so she expected to have finished her dishes, at least, by then. In that she got to work a little bit harder.

As she had expected, her daughter arrived at three thirty. She had just eaten a very late lunch, and felt relieved that the timing seemed perfect. Therefore she called out:

ـِـ Debbie!

ـِـ Yes mom?

ـِـ I need to talk to you.

ـِـ Something the matter, mother?

ـِـ Eh, ehm. Debbie, I want to ask you something. ... It's about that girl, the filthy one, that you talked to me about ... Was she about being filthy all the time or sometimes?

ـِـ Usually, mom. Why do you ask that?

ـِـ I mean did you admire her for being filthy? Or was that just for catching the boys attention that you did admire her?

ـِـ Always for the boys attention, only, mom!

ـِـ So there was nothing like that you want to seem to be like that bitch?

ـِـ No, of course there isn't!

ـِـ I wonder then, are you really into boys that much, or are you just fantasizing that there are good boys to be had if you were?

ـِـ I'm into boys, but I'm also fantasizing, mom, to the extent, at least, so that they can seem to be what there is for there to be taken as what I want to have!

ـِـ What do you mean by that?

ـِـ I mean I don't know what I want from them, so until I find out I really want to imagine they are what I dream of them as!

ـِـ Are you completely sure about this?!

ـِـ Positive, mom!

ـِـ Then why do you seem to be into caring about really taking them for granted as the ones that you really do appreciate?

Deborah hesitated.

ـِـ I think it's because I want them to be worthy of me once I get there, so that we can be together, one of them and I, or so.

ـِـ Or so?!

Her daughter giggled.

ـِـ Yes, or so, because I feel that I don't know if they care about me otherwise. ...

ـِـ Sure? I feel that you should be very unsure even so!

She giggled again.

ـِـ No, I disagree!

Her mother sighed before interrogating her further:

ـِـ But where you or weren't you trying to seduce the blokes around you before that Sylvia hit on you?

Deborah both sighed and giggled when saying:

ـِـ Mom, I was, ... I was figuring on a prank on that teacher, to make that filthy dick of his stand up in those no-underwear pants of his. Somehow it occurred to me, but that was two days later, strangely, that Sylvia could have been of use for this prank! But then she was already the one that I resented so much that I forgot about the idea of the prank. ...

ـِـ OK, her mother said. I'll settle for that!