Melange and sempiternal

Something different.
Well, she thought, that's what I asked for, but I think this is a little much. She glared at the heavens.

In the past several months, a string of boys had passed through her life, ranging from sweet to weird, tall to fat, interesting to embarrassing. It was a good mix, certainly a spicy variety unlike any she'd tasted in her life before, but she kind of missed the normal, everyday boy she used to have.

Move on, her friends said.

But where to?

Vituperation

Tina scoffed. "I almost wish my father had shouted."

Instead, she recalled, he had gone into bouts of raging silence, something no one could really understand unless they'd experienced it. His face expressed the meanest of feelings, while his eyes registered nothing. Being in the presence of such a passively furious man had kept her and Emily on edge, as if a switch would flick at any moment and activate him.

And sometimes it did. His violence was never directed at them, or anyone really, but when he threw things, when he punched doors or walls or counters, he didn't pay attention. He might hurl a blender, or a pad of paper, or a knife. His choice in projectiles was as indiscriminate and random as their trajectories, which meant she and Emily never knew what might go sailing through the air, or when, or if it would accidentally hit them. Because he was careless.

So yes, sometimes Tina wished her father had been a more predictable kind of drunk, more angry than sad, more reckless than aimless, more absent than ever-present.

But it was what it was, and now it was too late.

Gamine

Your mother was the most beautiful woman in Discovery. I can say that without bias because she won the Miss Discovery pageant when she was 18. Of course, the mother you knew would have had a fit if you or Emily had ever wanted to participate in anything quite so shallow and meaningless. But at the time, she was less mature, and beauty and boys were her whole life.

Normally she would have had nothing to do with me. We were as different as two people could be. She ran with the popular crowd, I did the Science Fair. We both loved football, but me for the sport, she for the players. In fact, she was dating the star running back Trevor Anderson when we met.

It was a Saturday night at the old drive-in. She and Trevor were there to see Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid -- supposedly -- and I was working to earn money for college. I poured drinks and popped popcorn and walked everything out to the cars. Well, Trevor had ordered dinner for them and I came by with it, but they were necking in the front seat with the windows closed. I tapped, and your mother drew back from Trevor as if she'd been slapped. I tried not to laugh, but I did smile, because boy did your mother look beautiful when she blushed. I gave them their food and went back to my station.

Later your mother told Trevor she had to go to the bathroom, but she came to talk to me instead.

"It wasn't what it looked like," she said.

"You don't have to explain nothin' to me," I replied.

She sort of bit her bottom lip, a habit of hers when she was nervous. "You won't tell my papa, will you?"

I'd forgotten that her father was a regular at my father's barber shop. I shook my head.

"Oh, thank you!" she said. "Thank you so much."

She started to walk away, then turned back. "Hey, you wanna grab a burger sometime? On me."

It was a silly question, but a miracle that she asked. I said yes, and we made plans to meet up later that week. I didn't want to let her pay, but I had a four-year degree in my future, so we went Dutch. I think that actually pleased her, though. She was so used to guys doing everything for her, whether she wanted them to or not, and I let her be independent. Free.

Well, you know how it went from there.

Malinger, insensate, and supernumerary

At first, I thought Claire might have been faking it. She'd been clashing with her new boss, a young kid from the city who thought he knew more than all of us Discovery folks combined, and I knew she'd turn a papercut into an amputation if it would get her out of work. So I didn't think too much of it.
After that day, she never mentioned the pain. I think she didn't want me to worry. Maybe she already knew it was too late. Later I learned that she took over-the-counter drugs to manage the pain -- going from 1 to 2 to nearly 10 a day.

Here the handwriting faltered, and Tina felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes.

I wish she'd said something. We might have been able to do more if she'd spoken up sooner. I'm not a fool, I wouldn't have told the girls. But together, Claire and I, we were a good team. We could have done something, I'm sure of it.

I would have done everything -- anything -- to help her get better.

Anodyne and tatterdemalion

"Help me!"

"Adam? Adam, what on--"

"Help me," he pleaded again, pushing at the door open with his back. Jill squinted at the object in his arms; it looked like a dirty sack of flour. Then it whimpered.

"Oh my God." She rushed to help him, opening the door and ushering him into the kitchen. "Put it on the table."

Adam gingerly lay the poor creature in the middle of their dining table, shoving placemats and candlestick holders out of the way with his elbows. "I hit it with my car. I didn't see it. I've kept it as still as possible. It's not dead, right?"

He stepped aside as Jill moved in for a closer look. The poor thing couldn't have been more than a year old, she judged. Well, being young would help its odds of recovery. She began her examination.

Adam hovered around the table, watching anxiously as Jill lifted the pup's limbs one by one, pressed gently against its ribcage, and held open its eyes to examine its pupils. He bit his lip and wondered if he should offer to help, but he knew she would ask if she wanted something.

After working over the pup for a few more minutes, Jill stepped back and let out a deep breath. "She's lucky. Her back leg is bleeding and might be broken, but otherwise she seems fine. We can take her to the vet tomorrow."

Adam didn't speak, but he bent down to look into the puppy's eyes. With two big black patches on her face, she resembled a small panda, shivering and wet. He put a hand on her belly, careful not to apply any pressure. Jill was bandaging the wound on her back leg, and he could tell the pup was scared. He didn't say he was sorry, but he was sure she knew anyway. Even in her weakened state, she stretched her neck and licked his arm.

"She'll sleep on the couch," he said.

Jill tied off the bandage and nodded.

She helped him set up plush bedding for the puppy out of pillows and quilts, and then headed for the stairs. "Are you coming to bed?"

Adam shook his head. "I'll sleep here with her."

"You really shouldn't. If you accidentally move her in the night, she could suffer more damage."

"I didn't mean on the couch," he said. "I'll sleep on the floor."

Jill opened her mouth to argue with him but then, remembering the many times she'd slept in a stall with a sick or troubled horse, she thought better of it. "All right. Good night."

Adam didn't answer. He sat down on the floor next to the pup, who nestled into the makeshift bed and sighed. Jill went upstairs and gave them one last look before flicking off the lights.

Mephitic

"Attitude like poison," Ma said with contempt.

Madeline rolled her eyes. "Wonder where I got it from," she muttered under her breath.

Fiduciary

"He left you the house," Emily said quietly.

Tina gaped at her. "Are you kidding me?" There was no reply. "You can't be serious. What the hell would I want with this house?"

Emily fidgeted with her tea bag, swirling it around the mug. "I think he wanted you to stay here. In Discovery."

Tina wanted to throw something. The urge was just one more gift from her father that she didn't want. She forced herself to remain calm. "Well, whether or not I do, he's not a part of that. It's my decision."

"I know." Emily thought of another man who she suspected might have more to do with Tina's decision than their father, but she kept that name to herself.

"I don't want anything of his, Emily." She shook her head. "There's not much I can do about his blood, but the rest of his things are yours."

Emily thought about the conversations she'd had with her father in his final days. She thinks I don't know her, he'd said. But the truth is, she doesn't know me. I already know I'm going to die with things that way, but I don't want her to.

"Think about it," Emily said. "Give it some time."

"I don't need time, Em. I don't want this house. Plus you've been here all this time. It's rightfully yours."

"He gave me everything else. I'll be fine."

"That's hardly the point."

Emily stood and took her tea to the sink. Suddenly she had no taste for it. "Tina, don't be so goddamn stubborn. Where else are you going to stay, anyway?"

Tina was silent. Her sister never spoke that way. And she had a point.

Puerile, antediluvian, and cupidity

"Money and status can't be the only things that matter to you," she insisted.

"No, of course they're not," he said. "But I have everything else I want. I have you, we have Evan, we have this house and our health and all that stuff. So I'm working for the rest."

"But in working so hard to attain what you don't have, you're neglecting the things that you do. Maybe you can't have it all, Jack."

He snorted. "Of course I can."

She noted that that he used the first person, whereas she'd been speaking to a general collective "you." Sighing quietly, she walked to her dresser and began to put away the laundry she'd brought up. "We don't need anymore money, you know."

"Need isn't the issue," he said. He stood up from his desk and walked to the side of her dresser, facing her while she worked. "Don't you remember what it was like growing up? Always wanting something you couldn't have, couldn't afford? Wearing last year's trends because they had finally gone on sale. Admiring the popular kids whose parents gave them anything and everything?"

Grace swallowed but said nothing. Yes, she remembered. But they were so far past that now, in their beautiful white home in River Oaks, with their Mercedes and their Lexus SUV, their maid service. Why couldn't he get past the past?

"I want to make sure Evan never has to feel the way we did, Grace. That's all." He kissed her on the forehead and returned to his desk.

And all Evan wants is for you to be home, she thought. But instead of saying it, she rolled up another pair of socks and dropped them into the top drawer.

Emolument and contemn

Tina watched the way Jill navigated the diner, greeting neighbors and strangers alike. Her smile and interest were genuine, that was easy to see, and she never made anyone feel like they were second-class. In fact, her attention gave people the impression that they were the most important person in the room, even the wait staff.

It was a skill -- or maybe a compassion -- that Tina lacked.

Palaver, gustatory, and troglodyte

"You guys think Doc Larry's is good, but y'all have no idea. You should taste the food in Europe, Em. It's so fresh, so well-seasoned, so exquisitely prepared. Delicioso." Tina smiled at the memory of the small bistro in Barcelona that she'd frequented, with its blue tiles and beach view. "Puts Doc Larry to shame."

Emily stopped stirring, but her sister didn't notice. Emily waited, waited for Tina to snap back to the present, to Discovery, to the kitchen where she sat on a stool humiliating her with words and memories and selfishness. But Tina never caught on.

Emily sighed and wiped her hands on the towel. Shaking her head, she carried the bowl to the sink, and dropped it. The porcelain cracked, and the shards rained against the stainless steel.

"Em!" Tina leapt up, alarmed.

"What do you think we are, Tina? Cave-dwellers? You think the places you went, the people you met are so much better than where you grew up? Than the people who raised you? Then fine, go. Leave again. We don't need that attitude here."

"Emily..."

"No. No, I've indulged your condescension long enough. I'm your sister, but right now, you're a stranger to me."

With that, she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Tina gaping.

Tutelage, dapple, and meticulous

Throughout her life, Jill found solace at the stables. Happy or sad, angry or mellow, she need only walk along the stalls of horses to find equilibrium in her feelings. Each magnificent creature spoke to her, not in words but in their eyes, their breathing, their spirits. She knew they needed her, but she sometimes wondered if they realized how much she needed them too.

Today she paused briefly at two or three stalls, rubbing Caleb's nose and checking Janie's teeth, but Jill knew where the real work would lie. Her newest charge was a one-year-old Appaloosa who had been purchased by a Houston oil magnate for his teenage daughter. On principle, Jill had no problem with the situation, but she had to shake her head when she thought about the details of how this filly had been selected. "Poppa, I want that one! She's the prettiest," is really not the way to choose a horse. There were too many factors -- breed, age, training, purpose, and most importantly, temperament -- that should have gone into the equation, and hadn't.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Jill approached the stall. "Good morning, Avalanche," she said brightly.

The horse kicked at the stall door, and Jill jumped back. "Okay," she said. "Apparently you want to do this the hard way. Again."

Condign and laconic

"Adam, wait!" She jogged to him, ignoring the glances of the departing guests. When she caught up, she swallowed hard and tucked her hair behind her ears. She hadn't figured out what she'd say when she finally got to him. "Hi."

He stared at her as if she'd spoken some alien language, or recited the alphabet.

After several seconds of continued silence, he started to turn away.

"Adam--"

"You didn't have any words for me then," he said, his back to her. "And I don't have any for you now."

Okay, I deserved that, she thought.