A Life Extraordinary

A post-ICBW short by yours truly,

Sulia Serafine.

(I miss you guys something terrible.)


He was sitting in the car, looking across the intersection where the southernmost corner of the park was visible. Spring had reached its peak and everything annoyed him. She could tell by the way the corners of his mouth were pulled downward. He might have been allergic to all the airborne pollen. But by that time, she was ridiculously accustomed to his frowns; one meant he was irritated by someone that he chose not to rebuke outright, one meant that he was angry with a person for withholding information, and her favorite one meant that he had completely forgotten to bring his auto mechanics magazine to read during the times she insisted that he come with her to the private aerobics class she had signed up for.

"Why would I want to be in a room full of fat pregnant woman bouncing around Swedish exercise balls?"

And she would say that there were other husbands who were very supportive and even exercised along with their wives. And he would reply that he strictly did not on any circumstances bounce—and especially with an oversized Swedish exercise ball. He preferred the weight set at the station and the punching bag in their basement.

As she exited the store, he saw her and started the engine. His frown became even more pronounced as the car roared to life. He had detested the idea of having a car, but he would never openly argue its practicality. They had already started looking around for the safest rated child seat that Saturday.

As for the car, they had compromised. Despite the fact that hover cars were more common in their region of the country of decently wealthy homeowners, she let him buy a ground vehicle because he felt it was more rugged (and manly, she supposed) than a hover car. This didn't stop him from riding around on his motorcycle every chance he got.

"Now what took you so long? I could have grown a beard by now."

"A beard?"

"Oh, don't think I didn't notice how you were rubbing my face those two weeks we were visiting your parents and you had lost my razor. You liked it." As she opened the door and got into the car, he studied the ice cream cone in her hand. "That's it?"

"There was more," she confessed, embarrassed by her sudden urge to giggle. "I ate a lot of it while I was glancing at the newspaper. Here, have some."

"I don't like strawberry."

"Well, what do you like?"

"I don't eat ice cream."

She smacked him on the arm. "You liar. I saw you eat that vanilla scoop once."

"Your mother handed that to me at the cook out. I was trying to be nice by not refusing. Or should I just have thrown it at Neal? Because, I swear, I was going to if it weren't for the fact that he'd probably break something and make me foot the hospital bill."

She rolled her eyes. "He is not that fragile." She licked the ice cream again. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

He didn't answer her, but was looking out the window at the park again. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin crumpled in her fist.

"What is it?"

His head jerked around quickly and he shook his head. He shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking spot. "Nothing, nothing."

But she saw the pre-pubescent boy walking in the park, pale and blond with a scowl on his face as he ran a broken branch against the metal fencing around the park. Clack, clack, clack.


"I said it was nothing." But after a moment, he turned off the car again and removed the keys from the ignition. There were ten confusing moments of silence before he said, "I'm going in to buy you a tub of strawberry ice cream so we don't have to come back so soon."


His hand was on the door handle, but he didn't leave the car. And Keladry carefully held her cone away as she leaned over and kissed him. When she leaned back, she took another lick of ice cream.

Joren ran his own tongue over his lips and snorted, though he was now smiling just faintly. "You taste like strawberries."


"No, no. It was fine. It reminded me of something."

It reminded her of something, too. So, she held out the ice cream cone for him to lick as he finally started the car again and they headed home.

Author: Oooooh. That felt good. College is killing me. I haven't gotten a chance to work on any free writing for a while. At a certain person's behest, I have decided to make this short and advertise her website, which is a Sulia Serafine fanlisting. (Garsh! For mmmmmeee?)

Since refuses to let me have URLs, just email me for it. Coolness, peoples?

(Thank you, Keena.)

And this one is mine, though it's ancient and hasn't been touched for a very long time. I don't have plans on doing anything with it. But yeah. It's there for anyone who wants to see. It's on my profile.

And thanks to all who have continued to keep in touch with me, urging me to lose sleep and skip homework to put out a little vignette like this. I've had a lot of bad down-with-love poetry and some depressed prose pieces, but this makes me happy. It always did. sigh Hope everyone's been doing well.

Rock on, droogies.

Sulia "Dude, she only wishes she were hardcore" Serafine

February 1, 2005.