"Sometimes I want to punch him, but sometimes I want to kiss him too, and the kissing outweighs the punching in the end, you know?" Ingrid sighed.
"Yeah," Christopher said, even though he didn't.
"It was absurd how angry I was -- I didn't even think I was capable of it," she went on, laughing lightly. "He just took off, vanished, you know? I didn't know he was working for the Administration until it was too late to talk him out of it. And I couldn't stop him, because I'm just a halfie and he's a fucking deerkint, for god's sake, do you know how powerful they are? Ugh, it was terrible. And I put poor Tallulah through such torture because all I did was roll up the windows and talk about how much I hated everything and how much I wasn't going to cry because fuck crying. She kept on making all these pitiful noises, so one day I just gave her a break and pulled over on the side of the road and screamed."
"Yelling helps," Christopher agreed. He missed the woods around his house for that reason.
"My life was getting worse by the day. I mean, my fiance abandoned me. My mother was -- is -- dying from something awful and unknown and the relatives that were supposed to help me are either dead or of no service. And here I was, just screaming in a field more because of the guy than my own mother, who went through hell from the magic community because she loves my dad... sometimes I don't even feel like a Foundra."
Christopher hesitated before putting a hand on her arm. "You're really strong for going through all that," he started, then everything tumbled out. "You're one of the more brave people I've met, and you have so many good qualities, so put away the bat. No one can be everything at once. We all have limits before we snap. Sometimes, it's good to snap."
Ingrid stared at him for a moment before her face broke into a grin. "You're a great kid, Chrissy," she said, ruffling his hair.
"Thanks, ma," he replied. So he was a kid now. Great.
"No, you know what I mean," Ingrid insisted. He didn't. "You're gonna make someone really happy one day, babe. I just know it."
A moment passed, a fraction of time in which something significant should have happened. Had his life been a film, he would have brushed the stray bit of hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. She would have blinked at him with those dark, endless eyes of hers, whispering something to herself in that tongue that she would have to teach him later. They would lean in at once, two sets of eyes fluttering shut as two sets of lips met in an instant of accord. His hand would rest on her cheek. Her hand would settle on his knee. Music would swell in the background, the theme of the film or some soaring indie epic -- or maybe there would be the silence that happened when everything else in the world went still but them in that moment. But his life was not a film. There was no director, no script, and no chance to do it over as she got up and brushed any dirt and debris off her rear.
"I'm going to check on him -- I'll see you later, yeah?" she said, smiling in that way that made his heart stutter, if that were even possible.
"Yeah, see you," was all that he could come up with. She paused before giving a little wave and turning around.
Christopher bit his tightened fist to keep from crying out in frustration. The Darbys of the world once again got the upper hand, and all he could do was watch as she walked away.
