I mentioned her school affiliation (Ivy of course, plus the other game in town) and I could almost forcibly feel the boy’s shoulders squeeze into each other, and saw his chin fall in toward his chest, his eyes just almost looking at his own inadequate genitals or something. I could literally feel him fold up. He radiates a warmth that I can feel without looking and that’s why I love him.
The uncertainty of my poor poor brother when he tries to talk to my dad, he knows that the love is earned rather than intrinsic, even though no one has ever admitted it, and I don’t know if anyone even consciously knows. My mother is the kind of woman that would let her doubt become a static behind the scream of the lies she tells herself over and over, and my father doesn’t have a mind big enough in that regard to imagine what his wife does while he’s away on business. But he knows my brother is not his, subconsciously, and has never loved him as such.
Also, I’m ridiculously ambitious. I’m glad that’s coming back into my life, actually. I just flipped to a browser that had a bunch of extra work in it. OMG. There is a lot to do today, I might bail.