UNORTHODOX

Amends Aren't Always Made(Chapter 19)

I felt clear minded, if such English makes sense.

For the first time in many weeks and many days my mind felt clear, at peace, relaxed.

I'd gone to school and had a peaceful day. At the school day's end I'd come home and had a peaceful evening. I'd like to say that I'd gone to work and had peace there too, but to make that claim I'd first have to be employed and to be employed I'd have to – it's a separate matter. The point is that I felt calm.

Nefy didn't like it. My friends didn't agree with it and those I interacted with found it odd. Being calm didn't suit me. Everyone including the universal forces knew it, so they conspired and bought it to an end.

"Mywa . . . I think you should sit."

The hour was eight. The location, the front desk room and the words were spoken by Nefy. I take a seat. He draws in a breath. And I burst into tears. Not the silent type. The awful, uncontrollable, bucket load that blurs your vision and wets your clothes. I cried for all I'd done. I cried for all Nefy would say. I cried for the unknown, I cried as if the world were coming to its end and when I thought I was done the tears continued.

Nefy does his best to calm me. He hands me tissue after tissue, offers doughnuts, pats my shoulder and finally settles on waiting me out. The only problem with waiting me out was that I didn't stop. I cried and cried and cried some more. I cried even more than the additional more and finally – whilst still crying – manged to eke out -

"Mywa?" "Did I say it wrong?" "If you- if you'd just told me to sit down I would have known things were bad, but you called me by my name, my real name and told me to sit down which means things are superbad." "You've lost me." "I'm talking Bb I have cancer or Bb I found out I'm a father and I'm leaving to take care of my child or Bb I've been secretly dating your mother." My voice fades into a mumbled mesh of sounds and Nefy moves his chair closer to my own. He doesn't laugh or dismiss my comments which furthers my suspicions.

"I'm not dying of cancer." Which left the other two possibilities. "You're the only hormonal teen I have." Which left - "How long?" "What?" I didn't have the energy to raise my voice and didn't have it in me to look at him. "How long have you been dating my mother?"

"Bb!" "Don't try to spare my feelings just tell it to me straight." "I'm not dating your mother." "You're not?" "I'm not." "You're really not?" "I'm really not." "Oh."