Today I celebrate inCuBaTion termiNation
. EXCERPT ONE: File under motherhoodStage: collegeLife
She calls. "Times Square Ollie's. Meet me at eight." I take the A down. She takes the G up.EXCERPT TWO: A Spawning Remembrance Day Offering*
She arrives. White wife-beater obscuring black-lace oyster shells, black satin straps bared on pale shoulders. A Guido's gleaming translucence washing over the submerged silhouette of fashion's Rebellious Set.
A punk-ass Holly Golightly, 20 minutes late. I'd resolved to eat, whether she arrived or not. I debate Honesty, until the server leaves with comfortably rote orders. Then... I release the cups: "Is that a fashion statement, or are you out of laundry?"
The dirty word reveals me in all my pink Freudian nakedness. Before I can correct the unwashed implication, she spits back, "Yes. And I know you don't like it."
I laugh. "Good. How's school?"
Xavier Bexar signals willed acceptance. No longer a senator, she corrects farm hands and visitors, "Dr Xaviera Bexar".
Nothing stays the same, but everything is ancient. Layers of sacred skins, winding interleaved, according to G-D's own code, she piously reasoned.
"Code? As in Destiny? Fate?" Ginnie queries, relishing the conflict.
Bexar, restraining fury, volleys, "If it was a plan, I was fireBombed on the road to..."
"— equality," interjects Susan.
"— posterity," Ginnie snipes.
"Enlightenment," Bexar counters, with a sigh.
"So, you plannin' a vaginal birth, darlin'?"
Deep breath. "All together now: a big collective wince."
to me. When does my emancipation start?
*(Intro at Comment 5, Dennis Cass's Awesome Writing Prompt #10)