Adults were odd. Damian had decided this long ago, but he couldn’t keep himself from mentally restating this fact whenever he saw proof that it was so, and his mother and father were providing him with plenty of proof at that moment. The way his father talked of tea so casually as if to suggest that he lived with them, and the way his mother rested her head against his father’s shoulder. Apparently, adults liked to play pretend too- which didn’t surprised Damian as much as it bothered him, made him want to squirm; he could remember all of the times he had asked mother why she and father couldn’t just live under the same roof, he could also remember all of the times he had been shipped off to his father’s house like a UPS package.
Damian was very thankful to have both of his parents, but at the same time, he wished that they weren’t odd adults.
“I try not to worry you, mother, but your always worried about me,” Damian stated as he began walking forward through the living room in order to get to the kitchen, he was so familiar with the house that he didn’t even have to think about it, as if he had been set to ‘autopilot’. His mind was, however, still running quickly, many thoughts zipping around at once at such a pace that it was hard for him to make sense of them all.
One thought was about the time, because he was sure that he would miss his favorite television show if he spent any more time walking about the house. Another was about his father, about his calm and slightly amused expressions and way of speaking; he wondered quite often if his father was really as laidback as he behaved, and despite the fact that Damian had spent half of his live around his father so far, he knew he could never be too sure, because he had caught several other adults pretending to be calm or OK with a situation. That was, however, a riddle Damian had yet to solve.
“And the party? How was it?” Damian asked the pair of them and stopped walking upon reaching the kitchen, “How much longer will it be until I can go with you?” he added on to his question. He had heard plenty about Hogwarts from his sister, and both parents, and was growing tired of waiting until the day he would receive his acceptance letter. There was always the chance that Damian would not get a letter from Hogwarts, and the thought did worry him occasionally- which was one of the reasons Damian was irritated with the waiting.
The young boy reached for one of the higher cabinets to fetch the tea for his parents, only to remember that he was a very short boy and that the cabinets in the kitchen liked to mock him about it. “Ugh,” Damian hissed as he fell back onto his heals, stumbling backwards slightly. “Still can’t reach…”
by Damian Skeeter Mon Sep 06, 2010 2:17 am