27.3.00

I Know I'm Paranoid, So Quit Staring At Me

(Or, Let's Play Weekend Catch-Up)

For someone who doesn't know me very well, my sister really seems to know what gets to me.

She stood at the side of the bed in the spare bedroom, pulling a blue and white cover onto a down comforter, looking like someone who thinks they have words of advice to dispense that might never have been given before. I was changing pillowcases and probably chattering about something or another - the dominant topic of conversation throughout the night were just incidental things relating to Nathan's impending visit. As I threw a pillow to the head of the bed, she asked,

"What if you and Nathan see each other at the airport and hate each other on sight?"

My reply went something along the lines of, "Thankyou, mum," as our mother had asked the same insensitive kind of question about five months ago. Alex merely laughed, but I was slightly hurt. It's not the kind of question you ask an insecure and paranoid person. It's not the kind of question to ask at all, really.

Later, whilst Dylan was sleeping peacefully in his room and we were eating soup and then chicken casserole, flicking through magazines and watching TV, it wouldn't seem like such a big deal. Yet it remained in my head, festering quietly as I scrawled a letter in my notebook, trying to rid myself of stupid thoughts. I tried to reassure myself by telling myself that Alex doesn't know anything about the core of my relationship with Nathan, just like I don't know that much about her relationship with Brad. Her ignorance about it is as much my fault as it is hers - just because we're sisters doesn't mean that we share anything "deep" or of emotional worth.

I don't have a real reason for that, but a ten year age gap can make things quite awkward.

Despite this small moment of indignance, spending an evening and half a day in the company of my sister, brother-in-law and nephew was quite pleasant - relaxed and without expectation, both comfortable and comforting. I helped make dinner (I made soup - this, as well as cakes and muffins, seems to be about the extent of my cooking ability), and after Alex and Brad went to bed, I stayed up to watch movies ("Men In Black", which I hadn't seen all the way through, but love now) and play with their Playstation. I must say, I'm quite adept at "Crash Bandicoot", but as quickly as I can accumulate 26 lives, I can lose them carelessly. It's only a game, I remind myself through exclamations of "D'oh-eth!" and "Fuuuuuuuck. I can't believe I missed that!" It's easy to get sucked into a game, though - just ask me about my shameless addiction to Minesweeper.

(Yes, Minesweeper. Hush.)

So, that was Saturday afternoon and evening.

Sunday morning I fell in love.

I have the feeling it's a totally one-sided relationship. He doesn't talk much, and there's not much that he can do for himself, and constantly wiping drool from his mouth with a ducky-yellow towel is a bit tiresome, but the sound of his happy giggle and the way he kicks his legs in the air when I tickle his feet makes it all worthwhile.

Yes, this great new love of my life is my baby nephew Dylan. He doesn't really resemble either of his parents, but I feel he has Alex's eyes. He was born on the ninth of October last year, making him five months and almost twenty days old, and I'd have to say that he's the only blood-related member of my family that doesn't have some kind of in-built sense of derision towards me. He has innocent youth on his side, I suppose.

I tickled him with my long ponytail and laughed when he grabbed hold of my finger, his tiny fingers so tightly wound around one of mine. I worried when I picked him up from his blanket on the floor, concerned that I wouldn't know how to hold him properly, that I was sure to injure his delicate head. Yet he seemed perfectly content on my lap, smiling and drooling away whilst I bounced him in time to some upbeat Shania Twain songs (we were dancing!), looking up into my eyes whilst I babbled to him about various topics - all of which escape me now, but I remember Alex peeking around the wall from the kitchen into the livingroom and giving me a quizzical look at one stage. Well, if people of my own age and above won't listen to me blather, a captive audience under the age of one year will do just fine.

I'm going to miss seeing Dylan grow up, and this realisation fills me with a certain wistfulness. However, I'm sure I can maintain those ties over a long distance.

I just have to convince Alex and Brad to invest in a computer and internet access.