Page 207 of Lilah
He speaks those words and every other words slowly, lowly, and almost always like he's bored, tired, or done with the conversation. Quite opposite compared to me.
I take off the straw and poke it through the hole. He watches me and grabs the straw. He sticks the straw through the whole thing, effectively making it poke out through the other side.
"You're doing great, try again," I hand him another and watch as his eyebrows furrow in concentration. More carefully this time, he pokes it through the hole and it doesn't come through the other side this time.
I smile wildly and lean forward, hugging him to me.
"I'm proud, you're so cute," I kiss his temple like he does to me. He can't even open a bag of chips without busting open the whole thing, I'm glad he can control himself long enough to get a straw through a pouch.
He takes the world's smallest sip of it and hands it to me.
"Drink more."
"I don't like it," he says.
"Because it barely hit your tongue, take a bigger sip," I hand it back to him.
"No."
"Don't think you're winning this argument, because you're not," I warn him. He narrows his eyes slightly. He slowly drags it back up to his lips and he takes a longer sip.
He still hands it to me.
"Don't like it."
He's just saying that to get on my nerves.
I drink both mine and his, plus two more. I sit back and watch as my stomach gets bigger.
The drink baby's name is Flitzengerald.
"Let's have a heart to heart," I propose. I need to know every little detail about him.Everything.
What's his favorite type of tissue?
What's his worst habit?
What's his biggest pet peeves? I'm sure he's got tons of those.
What's his favorite season?
What does he name his food babies?
Which is better? Trailer Park Boys or Impractical Jokers.
"What happened to your dad?" that too, but I didn't mean to blurt it.
"I don't know," he answers plainly.
"What was he like?" I try. He glances over at me.
"Why are we talking about this?" he questions, not so happy.
"I only want to know more about you," I answer.
"Asking about him doesn't have anything to do with knowing more about me," his jaw clenches, "he's got nothing to do with me."
"I just wanted to know about where you came from," I tell him softly. I don't mean to pry. He knows everything about me.Everything.
