Page 5 of Light Up The Night
He seems puzzled by this. "Oh, uh, yeah. Right. What are the questions?"
"One, is someone else joining us?"
He shakes his head slowly. “No. Why?"
"Because that is far too much food for two people. In case you had not noticed, I am a rather small woman. I do not eat very much."
He chuckles. "I ain't one to assume things, generally speaking. I've known some pretty tiny chicks who can put awaya shit-ton of food." He means human females, not actual chicks, I assume. "And two?"
"We are eating here? Not at the dining room table?"
He looks at the table, which is littered with mail, stacks of papers, a mug of pens, and an open laptop. "I eat my meals on the couch, usually. The table is my home office.” He turns his gaze on me, then. "You, uh…you prefer a more formal dining situation? I could clean it off, if you like.”
"Um, no. Thank you. That will not be necessary. I have never eaten dinner on a couch before."
He laughs. "God, you're weird."
I place the nugget I just picked up back on the plate, heart plummeting into my stomach, or so it feels. "I…yes, I suppose I am." I am always aware of how strange I seem to neurotypicals.
He must hear something in my tone, because he looks at me rather sharply. "Cadence, that wasn't an insult. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kind of an odd guy myself."
"Your version of weird and my version of weird are entirely dissimilar."
He peers at me, his eyes searching my face. "I upset you, huh?"
"I am well aware that I am very unusual. People have taken great pains throughout my life to point it out to me, as if I am unaware of my own oddity."
"So…yes." He ducks his head, trying to make eye contact with me. For his sake, I force myself to endure approximately ten seconds of eye contact. "I apologize, Cadence. I really didn't mean to hurt your feelings."
I cannot help a smile—he sounds genuinely remorseful. "You are forgiven."
"So…we cool?"
I nod. "Yes. We are quite cool."
He cackles. "Quite cool, she says. You're a fuckin' hoot, girl. Never met anyone like you."
"A hoot?" I shake my head. "I am not an owl."
This produces another bemused, amused look from Riley. "No, I…interesting. Funny. Entertaining."
"Oh. I see."
"Quite cool." He holds his fist toward me; uncertain as to what to do, I grab his fist in my hand and shake it up and down.
For reasons which leave me utterly mystified, this causes Riley to break down in gales of laughter so uproarious he falls backward against the couch.
"Jesus…oh god. Jesus, Cadence. Oh boy." Wiping tears of hilarity from the corners of his eyes, he holds out his fist again. "Gimme your hand—make a fist." I do, and he takes me by the wrist and guides my hand against his so our knuckles tap together. "Like that."
"Oh." I frown at him. "Are you laughing at me?"
"No, god no. Not in a mocking sense, at least. You just…were you raised in a commune or something?"
There is simply no easy or quick way to explain my upbringing. "No."
He seems to be waiting for further explanation, which is not forthcoming. "No. Just no?"
“It is a difficult thing to explain, and I am not at all certain you will understand if I try."
