Tweak: “Why are you home so late?”

Me: “I was on a date.”

Tweak abruptly halts licking her paw. She pulls out the rest of her toes and does the math.

Tweak: “Then why are you home so early?”

Me: “He was angry.”

Tweak: “What did you do?!”

Tweak jumps hard off the couch. Her feet are jackhammers of disappointment.

Me: “He wasn’t angry with ME. Please… I’m the world’s best first date.”

Tweak: “I hope so. We’ve rehearsed it enough.”

I stuff a Styrofoam to-go box into the fridge. Disenchantment ruins an appetite.

Tweak: “So what happened?”

Me: “He cursed his daughter.”

Tweak: “You curse at The Boy all the time.”

Me: “No, no. I use swears. WITH the boy. Calling him a ‘dipshit’ is a term of endearment.”

Tweak: “What’s the difference?”

Me: “Love.”

I brush my teeth and pull out a length of floss. I dangle the string just out of Tweak’s reach.

Tweak: “And the Angry Man?”

Me: “The Angry Man wished harm upon his daughter.”

Tweak: “That’s….”

Even Tweak is at a loss for words.

Tweak: “Mrow.”

Me: “Exactly.”

I slip into a nightshirt and slide into bed. Tweak collapses against my hip.

Tweak: “How did this conversation turn so serious? You wanna talk about clowns, or something?”

Me: “I think we just did.”

 

6 July 2014, “Tolerating Tweak”