Tag: i13ap1

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How much of Aisha’s problems were because of her mom’s lack of self-control and how many others were because of this environment?  She’d grown up with a mom who’d never mentally or emotionally aged past fourteen or fifteen.

I think the intense childishness we saw in Celia at the beginning of the chapter was quite intentional.

Though I was thinking closer to ten.

A new man in the house every week or two, with his own idea of how things should work, Celia generally content to let him run things however he wanted.

Well… at least it makes for some variation?

Aisha tried not to think about the men.  It was like having a broken arm; so long as she didn’t move it, so long as she didn’t think about it, it was okay, a dull throb in the back of her mind.

I can’t imagine all the men would be okay with that approach, though, when Aisha was living here.

Something she could ignore.  But even a stray thought could remind her that the arm was broken, and then it sometimes took days before she could get out of that head space.

Ouch, yeah. This is a pretty decent analogy.

There was no distraction that worked, because the fact that she was consciously looking for a distraction only reminded her of what she was trying to distract herself from.

Don’t think about broken arms, blue elephants, or this one Game I just lost!

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I think the most fucked up direction this could go would be Aisha using her power to walk in front of her mother and attack her in the hopes of forcing a miscarriage.

Abortion as a choice by the mother is okay in my book, but that most certainly wouldn’t be.

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“Isn’t that bad for the kid-in-progress?”

“It’s weed, dumbass.  Nothing they tell you about it is true.  Kid isn’t going to wind up addicted from birth or anything, ’cause it’s not addictive.  Right?”

Riiight. Of course the thing you’re taking specifically because you’re addicted and “need to have something” isn’t addictive. Sure.

“Sure,” he reached into his back pocket and slipped a packet to her, along with a dime bag.

Aisha bit her lip.  Maybe hope was the wrong word, because she didn’t really feel anything on the subject.

Aisha is repeatedly claiming not to feel things… and then talking about what she feels?

But she knew it would probably be better if her mom miscarried and the kid was spared this shit.

Hoo boy, this must’ve stirred up some abortion debates when it was posted.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with abortion (a stance I do not feel like debating with askers on this blog), but that’s not really the question here, despite what I just said. It’s whether it would be better not to live in the first place than to be born into a bad home.

Honestly? I’m not sure Aisha’s wrong here, though it feels weird to suggest that not living in the first place is better than having a life that starts out bad and can get better… no, actually, by writing that sentence I ended up talking myself out of it.

I don’t agree with Aisha, not entirely. Yes, the child would have a bad childhood, but they could get out of it and create a wonderful life for themself afterwards. There is a large potential for it to be worth it to be born in spite of these circumstances.

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No, it was less this scene and more the discovery that her mother was pregnant that nailed her in the gut with a profound kind of sadness.

Oh shit, that’s right. The child would be a half-sibling of Aisha and Brian, and it seems like neither of them knew about it.

I wonder what kind of power the child might end up with if they survive the apocalypse. Probably something to do with hiding. Maybe shrinking to a size that gets into small hiding places easily?

The first place her mind went, before joy at the idea of having a brother or sister, before anger at her mom for letting it happen and not using protection, was hope.

Hope was really not where I thought that sentence was going.

What kind of hope are we talking here? Hope that it might help Celia shape up her life? Hope that the child doesn’t have to grow up with their biological parents? Hope that the child can replace Aisha herself?

“Sam, do you have any papers?”

“Rolling papers?  I thought you were going clean.”

Come on, Celia, don’t tell me you’re going back on the one redeeming feature you’ve established.

Tell me you’re talking about some other sort of papers.

“It’s just weed.  I need to have something.”

Ugh… fair enough, though. Addiction is hard to just turn off at will. That’s kind of the main problem with it.

At the very least she’s stepping it down, in the best case scenario helping her gradually go completely clean.

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“No way,” Jennifer said.  She dropped into one of the felt-covered chairs at the far end of the room.

See, I know what “felt-covered” means, but part of my brain can only imagine a pile of plain wooden chairs covered in fifteen green men in colorful hats.

image

Homestuck, man. Once you’re infected you can’t escape it.

Aisha had to hop out of the way so she didn’t get sat on.

!!!

YES

Now this is someone I’d much rather read an Interlude about!

She watched the dialogue between her mother, her mother’s boyfriend of the week and her mother’s new friend with a dispassionate expression.

Oh, huh. So we did kind of know Celia already, and a part of the Laborn family had ties to the Merchants.

This is… less surprising than it probably should be.

Seeing this scene, she didn’t really feel much.  A little disappointment.

I guess she’s kind of used to it.

Embarrassment.  Disgust.

Now this I can absolutely understand.

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“I… what is it?”

“Little bit of everything.  Come, sit.  Try some.”

“What is it?”

Jennifer seems a bit more reluctant than the other two to actually use this stuff. Maybe she’s a friend of Celia but wasn’t a Merchant?

Sam seated himself at the table, by one set of the lines of powder.  He picked up a pinch and put it on his tongue.  “H.”

Ah. I may be about as street smart as a teacup, but I do know what that nickname refers to.

…at least I think I do.

…alright, fine, I’ll look it up just to be sure. *does so*

Oh, right, it was heroin, not hash.

Teacup, guys.

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“You’re too old to be pregnant,” Sam commented.  She kicked him again.

Hmm.

Does she not want to tell him the real reason she’s abstaining, or is this just Sam exaggerating her age as a burn?

“Not that old!”

Jennifer emerged from the washroom and stopped in the doorway, staring at the scene.

Hello!

“I didn’t think you’d actually use any of the stuff.”

“Jen, hon,” Celia said, “We’ve got enough to go around.  Even if we only sold half, we’d be made in the shade for five or ten years.”

Ah, alright, definitely some trade planned. I feel more confident in the former Merchant suggestion now.

“And you just took it?”

“Leaders of the Merchants got killed, everyone else decided to run off with what they could carry of the stockpiles.  Sam and I decided to play it smart.  Sam got his truck, and I guarded the stash from the other assholes.  Paid off.”

Aaand confirmed. 🙂

I’m not gonna lie, that’s not a bad idea.

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She cut open a plastic wrapped block of powder and shook a small amount of the powder onto the coffee table.

*goes to fetch his bag of “tw: drugs” tags*

So are these people just random, kinda awful mundane civilians of Brockton Bay? I’m suspecting that the “fatass friend” is going to be the most important character here.

…actually, it wouldn’t surprise me too much right now if these were former Merchants.

She used the laminated card to cut it into lines, a set on each side of the table, with none in front of her.

Monsters Inc would give you a better time.

“You’re not having any?”

“I told you.  I’m pregnant.”

Oh?

Honestly, I think this is more interesting because of what it says about Sam and Celia’s relationship than about the pregnancy itself. Celia is clearly familiar with Sam, but it sounds like he only just learned about this pregnancy (either that or Celia has had to point to her pregnancy as a reason for abstinence before). Add that to Sam’s statement about the friend using Celia’s bathroom rather than their, and it’s pretty clear that he’s a (probably infrequent, if it’s not the first time) visitor of some description.

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“You said you were five minutes ago, asswipe.  Takes you five minutes to find your wallet?”

I’m not sure I like Celia very much so far.

“Needed to piss.  Your fatass friend was in your bathroom, so I pissed in your sink.”

I’m even less sure I like Sam.

Friend, huh. Anyone we know?

Celia kicked under the coffee table to strike his shin.

Sam just smiled and stepped back.  “Kidding.  I went off the fire escape.”

Right, because public urination is better than in a private sink.

“That’s not any better!”

“It’s all water and shit down there.  Any place that doesn’t smell like hot garbage smells like a toilet.

Before reading this part, I considered going into how I could understand it if it were into the ocean or something but I doubted there would be an ocean on the same side as a fire escape, so I was surprised by the water excuse. Until I remembered the state of Brockton Bay streets.

Still, though, I do think the sink would be marginally better.

Here.  Stop bitching.”  He threw a plastic movie rental card at her.

…alright, let’s rent Monsters Inc, that’s a good one.

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“Sam!  Sam!”  Celia’s voice was grating and nasal. 

I’m pretty sure we don’t know a Celia – or at least don’t know that we know one – but do we know a Sam? I’m not really sure. I don’t think so, but it’s a common enough name that it ends up sounding familiar nonetheless.

I’m going to guess he’s a hero, though. Sam is a very heroic name.

Meanwhile Celia so far sounds like a somewhat annoying (to Sam) little girl. It would be entirely possible for this to be Bonesaw and another member of the Nine, but they seem to stick to their cape names (in the cases where there’s a difference) when talking to and about each other from what we’ve seen, with the exception of Jack reminding Mannequin about his old self. Besides, I feel like we’d have a description of Bonesaw’s voice earlier if this were her.

“I’m coming!”  The heavyset man grumbled, as he made his way into the living room.  Celia sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.  The white of her t-shirt and panties was a stark contrast to her dark skin.

Definitely sounds like a kid, yeah.

Sam leered at the woman.  She was good-looking for her age, slim, though her breasts sagged behind her shirt without the benefit of a bra.

…but apparently she’s not. Fair enough, I was basing that on almost nothing anyway.