Originally posted February 17, 2010
((I haven't had to face life without a parent, yet. I can only imagine what a well adjusted teen might go through without a beloved, maternal figure.))
There's no rushing about. No frantic moments deciding what to wear, finishing homework, figuring out what to do with her hair. The outfit had been decided last night and laid out over a chair. Studies long since completed, dissected, and reworked. Her hair? Mercedes "Des" Thomas-Arasaka, Kid Harrier, picked out a low maintenance cut at the beginning of the school year.
It's not obsession or compulsion, some need to instill an order on the chaos of morning. It stems from an understanding of the amount of effort needed to exert and the opportune moment at which to apply such energy. It's something she gets from her mother.
"That last problem set was a total bitch," Des said aloud as she slid into a bra from Agent Provocateur. "I mean, I figured it out, but, still…" She fastened a clasp. "It was a bitch."
"Yeah, Va held me to it. Asking me the about the proof oh so nonchalant over dinner. Like calculus figures into normal people's conversation."
Des smiled as a camisole slipped over her shoulders. "Yeah, I know. A problem set sounds completely normal after a discussion of breaking up local meth production." She chuckled, continuing to dress.
"It was fine. Hardly a scratch. That new carbon fiber weave. Great stuff. We're pushing out around the area of the new apartment building. After getting hit by Bizzaro, a couple of street punks seem like a breeze." The redheaded teen hitched her jeans over her hips. "Yeah. My ribs are completely healed. Thanks for asking."
Mercedes sat on the edge of her neatly made bed to pull on a pair of socks. "Did you ever think? I mean, did you ever wonder if my life would turn out this way? Breaking up a drug ring with Va with just enough time to wrap up my homework and have dinner." She laughed. "Definitely one part of the family business I didn't expect to pick up. I try to do my best though. I know that's what you and Va expect of me."
"No. I'm not seeing anyone. I think Brad is pretty cute in American Lit, but… I dunno." She slipped a foot into a red, canvass Ked. "You should talk to Va about it. It's not like it would kill him if he went on a date." Mercedes tied her shoes in a quick series of fluid motions. She chuckled again, quietly. "You're right. It wouldn't kill me to go on a date, either."
The teenager bounded from the bed, hoisting a massive Chrome messenger bag over her shoulder She stopped on her way out of the room, pausing in front of a framed photograph on bookshelf. The image showed the three of them, smiling; a happy moment shared on the patio of Moss Beach Distillery in Moon Bay, more than five years ago.
Her fingertips brushed her lips then landed squarely on the picture of her mother's face. "Thanks, mom. I enjoy our little morning chats. I love you." She hesitated a moment. "I miss you." A wistful smile on her face, Des backed away from the bookshelf before turning and trotting to join her father for breakfast.
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