“Do you remember my name?”He turned his head and stared off at the exposed drainpipe under the bathroom sink. “Rosalia.”“Do you remember …...““Whatever you’re going to say, I remember. Jesus. You keep doing this to me.”“Knocking you on your ass, you mean?”“Yeah.”“Well you don’t seem like you get punched out by too many girls anymore.”“It only gets worse. Now I always get beat up here.” He pointed to his chest where his heart was supposed to be. At least he was looking at her again. The water kept. They talked more and laughed a little on the short drive to his house. It had a lovely long drive and had no neighbours to pester him. He warned her the house wasn't all decorated as he had only just taken the house over a few months back and hadn't had the time to finish it yet. He added, the best bits are finished, and winked at her. She knew now, she had caught her prey.They walked into the large open hall way, where he took her coat and lead her through to his bar he'd had built. He sat her. The adults seemed so settled. The kids seemed so simple. I couldn't imagine being either. Once I realized that I was different, I stopped trying to be the same. I also learned not to ask questions. Once I stopped trying to really be like them, it was easier to figure out how to act like them. So I watched, and I listened, and I copied, and I became what Mr. and Mrs. Davis wanted for their little girl. I became Well Adjusted.When I was eleven I started hiking with my father. Outings To Bring. After a handful of seconds that feel like a lifetime of days, he seems to think you less than what you are; a trick of the light or perhaps simply some strange flotsam. He turns around and continues his half-hearted patrol, walking away from where you aim.You push forward, leaving the water to scamper over the rockier part of the beach and into the tree line just beyond, keeping low to deaden the waterfall pouring off you. Hopefully, the warm night air will be enough to evaporate any evidence.
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