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 Posted: Tue Sep 03, 2013 8:29 pm
Quite Honestly, when Isha reviewed his list of arts he wanted to learn.. He had no idea what he wanted to do about the those at the end of his list. Vainayiki vidya, art of enforcing discipline and Vaijayiki vidya, the art of obtaining victory.. What was that even supposed to mean in this day and age?! Victory in grades? Discipline with.. He didn't know, sports?
Surprisingly enough, his parents were the ones to interpret them more appropriately than he ever could. And he could not believe the initiative they took in his favor this time! They really seemed to be getting into the idea that he was working so hard to achieve something.
I'd say law, and children. His mother suggested, tapping a pen to her lips a few days ago infront of her computer after Isha had come to bother her about his confusion. You have to discipline children, AND law is definitely about victories. We'll see if we can find someone who fits the bill, no worries.
And they worked way faster than he had ever seen them before. Within hours, they had contacted an old lawyer friend through a series of contacts, and had arranged for him to go to her house and spend a day, learning both arts. It it worked out well, there would be more lessons arranged, but for now, they had already given the woman the inital payment, and sent the boy on his way a week later.
So now here he stood. Face to face with the doorbell that belonged to the woman's house. In his mind, mothers were sweet, and kind people, and if it was the same with this one, he wouldn't know until he met her. After all, Lawyers were some scary folk at times!
With a deep breath, and his eyes anxiously scanning for a way to make a quick escape, he pressed the woman's doorbell, hoping that he would be greeted kindly.
Sunshine Alouette Took Forever, but here it is~ If you'd like me to edit anything, please let me know!
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 1:13 pm
Marissa had no idea how in the world she was supposed to teach anyone, much less a sixteen-year-old boy, about things like discipline and victory. Her experiences with sixteen-year-olds were somewhat less than stellar; her first kid had hardly ever listened when Marissa had tried to discipline her when she'd been sixteen, and her second was too young to offer up many opportunities for experience. Victory was something she was a little more familiar with, but it was a rather situational concept. She wasn't sure how to teach it.
Well, she could always wing it, she supposed. She'd have felt bad for refusing—about as bad as she felt for accepting payment for something she'd doubted she'd be all that good at.
But when the bell rang she opened the door to the townhouse with Lilah, a week or so shy of being one year old, perched on her hip. A pale, blonde woman with an equally pale, blonde baby, Marissa greeted Isha with a small, distant and guarded sort of smile and stood back to let him into the tiny foyer. She was rather young looking, certainly off an age to be handling a baby as small as Lilah, but not quite old enough to seem suitable for the other, older child that remained absent. She'd considered dressing more suitably for the occasion but couldn't decide what “suitable” would be in this instance, so wore little more than a pair of comfortable jeans and a purple blouse with perhaps one too many buttons undone.
“You must be... the kid doing the arts thing,” she said awkwardly, trying not to make her lack of confidence in her abilities as apparent as they probably were. “I'm Marissa.”
She held out the hand not keeping the baby securely against her hip, while Lilah stared on with wide, curious blue eyes.
Beyond the foyer one could glimpse a view up the stairs to the second floor, which was blocked off by a secure gate to keep Lilah from having any unsupervised accidents on the stairs. Down the hallway at Marissa's back were the doorways leading into the living-room and dining-room, with the kitchen further back. A few toys lay scattered upon the floor at random intervals, blocks and dolls and colorful stuffed animals. The pictures that lined the walls were rather impersonal—random cityscapes instead of the family photos one might expect to be put on display by a mother.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said—though, aside from the few scattered toys, the house wasn't messy at all. “Did you want anything to drink? I'll be honest, I don't really know where to start.”Cooro Cooro I'm so sorry for the delay!! ;;
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Posted: Sun Sep 15, 2013 9:22 pm
"Hehe, yes, I am indeed that kid. I'm Isha, it's a pleasure to meet you." He quickly and eagerly reached out to shake the woman's hand, grinning quite wide when he did so. Perhaps it wasn't quite directed at her, but rather the small child in her arms. The dark haired boy always had a soft spot for children, no matter what the age. He could remember his own days back in the orphanage, when he was just a wee little boy, taking care of those even younger than he was. They were always so much fun to be around, smiling even though such terrible things had happened to them all to end up in the monastery in that village back in India. It had been quite some time since he had even thought of the place, honestly, but the memories were not sad, not at all. Maybe one day he'd return back there, to have his own place to take care of all the children like himself.
His own blue eyes gazed back at the child through his thick rimmed glasses, just as curious of her as she was at him.
"Oh, not at all. Compared to my home, it's far more cozy. Much more personable, if that makes sense. It doesn't feel like a large, empty museum." The toys scattered around were just as pleasant to see as the pictures on the walls. This truly felt like a home.
"And who is this lovely little flower right here?" He asked her, offering a finger to the little one to shake. "A drink would be lovely, thank you. Once you are more comfortable, I can show you what I wrote down for my interpretation of 'victory' and 'discipline'. I figured that my list needed something akin to a modern 'touch-up' if that makes sense."
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 12:19 pm
“This is Lilah,” Marissa said, adjusting the baby a little more comfortably on her hip once the hand-shaking had been seen to.
The introduction of the baby was short and as distant as Marissa's welcoming smile had been, though not completely without warmth. The manner in which Marissa held Lilah was casual, and comfortable enough to show that she'd either spent a great deal of time in this exact position, or else benefited from previous experience. But she was certainly not the crooning, overly affectionate sort of mother people might expect to be at home handling a baby. Indeed, it was a rarity for her to be at home alone with the baby these days.
Lilah seemed quite comfortable and happy regardless, and once she'd had her fill of staring at the stranger in her home she smiled at his grin and reached out for his finger with a firm, determined grip, not shaking it so much as trying to force it into her mouth, which boasted seven tiny teeth.
Marissa looked mildly fond and distantly amused by this behavior, but reacted with a sort of forced exasperation as she attempted to help Isha remove his finger from Lilah's clutches.
“What would you like to drink?” she asked. Seeing that he was comfortable seemed to her to be the easiest thing to do and the best place to start right now. “Water? Soda? Tea? No, no, Lilah,” she said, and grabbed onto Lilah' chubby arm, which had reached out for Isha's glasses, accompanied by a gleeful squeal.
“The kitchen's back this way,” Marissa motioned with a brief jerk of her head. “Or... if you'd be more comfortable... you can have a seat in the living-room. Whichever you want.”
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Posted: Wed Sep 18, 2013 10:15 pm
"D'aww.. Hello, Little Miss Lilah!" The child's little reaction to him was So very adorable, even if she had refused to return his digit for a moment. In a vague notion to himself in the back of his mind, he began to wonder what it would be like to have children of his own. Would he meet a wonderful lady, and have bunches of children, or would he maybe just adopt a few, just like he was. Or maybe he wouldn't ever have children, instead opting to be a teacher of the young ones instead. It wasn't' as if he really knew what he wanted to do with his life at this point anyway.
"If she were to steal my glasses, it would not be the first time it had happened on a first meeting." Though the memories of meeting the boy who had done that to him were pretty blurry, at best. And it wasn't nearly as cute as it would be if a child took them. Then again.. He wasn't sure how easy it would be to make it home without them.
"A cup of tea would be spectacular, and we can sit in the kitchen. I wouldn't want to accidentally make a mess or anything." He made his way into the kitchen, wondering if he could sit down at a table of some sort.. Did this house even have a dining room?
"So.. I was wondering, how's it like to be taking care of a child while working such a strenuous job?"
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 2:45 pm
Marissa drifted down the hallway toward the kitchen, passing the living-room (and, indeed, a dining-room) along the way.
Upon arrival, she dropped Lilah into a high-chair and dumped a pile of cheerios for her to munch on onto the attached tray. Then she went about making tea, opening the appropriate drawers and cabinets to retrieve a couple of mugs and spoons before filling the teapot and setting it on the stove to boil.
“Have a seat,” she offered, motioning to the counter bar.
Instead of taking a chair for herself, Marissa busied herself with minor tasks around the kitchen, searching for things to do with her hands so as to occupy herself rather than stand around awkwardly and attempt and fail at conversation with a kid she didn't know. She was not altogether uncomfortable, but younger children were more her strong suit; she'd missed out on most of her oldest child's teenage years and therefore had little experience with which to work from.
“Oh, well...” she began, trying to figure out a way to answer Isha's question without making herself seem as absent as she often felt she was. “Lilah goes to daycare, and then Cal... er... her father... he stays home with her a lot. When he's not traveling. We've considered a nanny when he's away, but...”
She tried to hide a grimace by turning to organize some of the mail she'd tossed onto the counter earlier, but she figured it was obvious by the tone of her voice that the idea of a nanny was not very appealing to her. She was often in conflict with herself over the issue—on the one hand, she felt guilty for focusing so much on her career when she'd spent so much time with her first child; on the other hand, she didn't exactly like the idea of staying home. She was not that sort of woman, and had not fared well when she'd tried to be.
“Expectations are different these days,” she said and shrugged. “A little more relaxed. I was never the stay-at-home-mom type to begin with. Anyway, Lilah's happy as is, so...”
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Posted: Fri Sep 20, 2013 10:32 pm
To Isha, the woman didn't seem to quite know what she was doing. Perhaps it would have been a wise idea to have informed her more about what she would be doing, rather than just leaving her for the dogs when it came time to present. Then again, he wasn't a dog, just a kid with curiosity and money to spare on such. He grimaced himself at the mention of a nanny.
"Yes.. I agree with that.. Having an actually mother or father there.. It must feel different than being raised by someone who left every night." His own childhood was filled with faces that never stayed around for long. He didn't think he knew his own adoptive mother's face well until he was old enough to go to school for a full day. It was then she decided she wanted to become part of his life.
"I was thinking.. Perhaps you're not understanding my purpose in being here." He pondered aloud, sitting down at the counter and giving the little girl in the high chair another little smile, before he reached into his bag, grabbing his list and unfolding it, smoothing all the wrinkles out of the paper.
"There is no completely right way in raising a child, I think. My question is more of.. When you do you find yourself victorious, in regards to your child? When they fall asleep the first time you put them down, or when one comes back with a good grade? And for discipline, how do you maintain your household? How do you keep your children in line?"
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Posted: Sat Sep 28, 2013 7:59 am
As Isha pulled out and unfolded a list, Marissa spared a few curious glances at it but didn't drift close enough to be able to look it over. She remained on the opposite side of the counter bar to continue preparing tea, and to put between them what she thought was the appropriate (and safe) distance that should always fall between two human beings.
She paused to consider his questions for a few moments. They did make things slightly easier than if she'd remained left to her own devices, but they were not altogether easy questions to answer. Some other mother with different kids living a much different life might have been able to provide an answer more swiftly, but Marissa's dealings with and feelings for her children were not what she assumed to be the norm—and if they were, then certainly weren't the ideal.
When did she feel victorious with her children? When did she feel as if she'd done something right by them?
“My oldest,” she began slowly, “she's a dancer. When she was little there were... complications.” She paused a moment to wonder if there might be a better word for it, but as it wasn't an issue she felt too terribly comfortable getting into with a stranger, she thought it best to leave it at that.
“We didn't have a lot of money and lessons and costumes and ballet shoes get expensive,” she said instead. “And then there were... other issues... with her father, but... we did the best we could... and now, when she's on stage or when she's being recognized for her talent... I think I must have done something right by her at some point. When she's happy and enjoying what she does, all the stress and the hard work and all the money we poured into it seems like it was worth it.”
She stopped to look guiltily over at Lilah, who she hadn't yet been able to put nearly as much effort into, but who sat munching on her cheerios quite contentedly all the same.
“Discipline's a little more difficult,” she admitted.
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Posted: Mon Sep 30, 2013 7:16 am
With a quiet and thoughtful expression, he listened to the woman, nodding as she spoke every so often. It suddenly hit him. this was so personal. How could he simply go in and investigate someone like this.. His expression changed from seemingly excited, to down right sober.
"I.. I'm so sorry Ma'am!" he started, his voice soft, but passionate in his apology. "I don't think.. I honestly don't think I thought this through! It is so inappropriate for me to come into your household, to ask of your practices! I just.. I am simply proud to know that you are a mother who worked so very hard to give her child everything she could to be successful. We do not have to continue talking about this, not at all! I'm sure your children are just delighted to have you as their mother, no doubt about it!"
His own glance went over to Lilah, gazing fondly over her. Even now, she was enjoying herself, and that was what mattered most, right? For a mother to love her children, more than anything else.
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Posted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 4:23 pm
Marissa winced at the “Ma'am” but tried not to appear too put off by it.
“Just Marissa is fine,” she said.
She'd never liked more formal modes of address, particularly if and when they were directed at her. “Ma'am” was almost overly polite to her ears, and she didn't generally like going by Mrs. Reeves, which she left for her mother, and her old sister if she chose to accept it. For a time she'd gone by Mrs. LeFay and felt moderately comfortable with it, but then...
Well, she didn't have much right to go by that anymore, did she?
“It's fine,” Marissa reassured him. “You're fine. It's no big deal. Some things are just... it's hard to expect a kid to understand. No offense.”
She looked at him cautiously and then turned to continue with the tea, dropping a couple of teabags into a mug each and pouring in the boiling water to let it steep.
“Delighted? Maybe. Probably not with the oldest. Lilah's too young to know any better.”
Marissa paused and winced again. She sounded so self-deprecating and felt guilty for venting such things around a kid she hardly knew, so she turned to him again with a small, remorseful little smile. “Sorry, this probably isn't going the way you'd expected. But you can keep asking questions if you want, if that'll be easier, it's okay. I'll try to answer what I can.”Cooro Cooro I'm soooooooo sorry for the wait!
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Posted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 6:53 pm
"Marissa then." Older people always seemed to do that. To say 'I'm not that old' or something of the like, and it truly baffled the boy. After all, you couldn't be rude to adults, but if you were too polite, they just looked at you as if you were an alien. It was quite obvious where the line was drawn in society because of it. Even if it was bizarre to him, he would have to adjust, after all, once he moved out from his parents home, to begin anew in the world of darkness, he would have to adjust to such behavior. His apologetic nature was falling now, as his own understanding was questioned.
"Well, think of it this way. I am not some random kid. I made it my goal to understand such things, to learn what most my age could not. I'd like to think I am capable of a deeper understanding than your average teenager, and if not, you can be certain that I will try." No offense or not, it was degrading to be suggested as someone less intelligent than he was. She may have been an elder teacher to him, but such levels of informality was not quite earned. He was not familiar with this woman, nor her with him. Maybe she would like it if he returned what appeared to be a sharp tongue to her.
"What child is truly delighted to have a person as a parent? I've lost on set of parents, and now am left with people who view me as more of a prize from an expedition overseas than a child to be loved. I am jealous of your daughters. I'm certain they had you there when they were hurt, when they were sad, and not some random nanny or maid who happened to be nearby at the time. Certainly, my adoptive parents did their best, but I can say that their version of what should happen, and my own are two totally different things. In my opinion, perhaps the victory that occurs in the home stems from a mutual understanding of the needs of both parent and child. So tell me, do you think you've achieved such a thing?"
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Posted: Sat Oct 12, 2013 7:59 pm
Typical teenage bravado, assuming they could comprehend the way of the world and the histories of adults because they were somehow wiser than their peers, whether that be from their own experiences in youth or because they were “mature for their years.” Marissa didn't quite believe it if only because she'd once been the same way, and she could say for certain now that back then she hadn't known a damned thing.
Maybe Isha was different, maybe he truly could understand; maybe he couldn't, maybe she was right. Either way it didn't matter much in the long run. That was a debate that probably had no final answer.
“You might have made it your goal to understand,” she allowed, “and maybe you'll manage it, now or at some point later, but no one can really understand an experience that isn't their own. If you haven't lived it—and I don't mean some version of it, I mean moment for moment—then you can't pretend to get it, the whole gravity of the thing.”
She said it with kindness and patience. Marissa had no desire to press a point of contention, because in the end he was still just a kid. He had the rest of his life to make his own mistakes.
“Do I think I've achieved victory in the home?” she said, passing Isha one of the mugs of tea, and sugar and creamer should he choose to use them. “I suppose that depends on your definition of victory. I've got one kid in college, married and making her own way, and another whose happy and healthy and growing normally. I suppose that's a victory in itself. Do me and my kids understand one another? Maybe. Lilah's still too young, but... these days I like to think I understand my oldest better, and she's beginning to understand me, maybe she's forgiven me for not being there when I should have been. I left, you know, when things got hard.”
There was a voice in her head telling her she shouldn't be talking about these things with a kid, and if it'd been anyone else she probably wouldn't have, but if he claimed to be able to understand she'd test him on it. It might be a lesson all its own—victory not being easy, and riddled with mistakes.
“I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, going after my dreams, making a better life for my kid,” she said, “but the truth is it had a whole hell of a lot to do with fear and my inability to understand my own kid. I was young and selfish and I took the easy way out.”
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Posted: Mon Oct 14, 2013 7:51 pm
"Of course not." Even if her words were laced with sweetness, it was not taken as such. Who was this woman to tell him such things, to speak as if she was so wise, when she herself, admitted to not knowing whether or not her own children are happy. Isha took the mug of tea, not drinking it, or adding anything else to it, simply continuing to listen to the woman. Even if he was beginning to dislike this woman, something could be said for honesty. There could never be too many honest people in the world, even if their words seemed to come out twisted at times.
"The very concept of victory is different to each person. You may think that because your child is off on her own, living what can be assumed a victory, but others may not. I honestly did not think about it too much before, but no one can place a solid definition of what it means to be victorious. So, the question is, with your mistakes, with your choices to leave, then to return, with your ideals and fears and selfishness that sounds as if they impeded you from your children in the past... With all of this, and taking notices of regrets and pushing them aside, are you content in life? My definition of victory... Contentment. Comfort and safety and knowing that I've influenced someone positive enough that they can better themselves for it."
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Posted: Thu Oct 24, 2013 1:10 pm
That was the question of the year, wasn't it? Or maybe that was the one question to define a life?
Was she content?
Even that was problematic, she thought. She could be content with one part of her life and still find something wrong with another part of it. Life was made up of a million tiny pieces spread out over the course of a person's existence. It was difficult to wrap something so huge and expansive up into something like contentment. Contentment was often temporary, and rarely absolute. Should the same then be said for victory?
She pulled her gaze away from Isha and stared instead at Lilah, who continued to munch happily on her cheerios without a single care in the world. Marissa debated the question as she watched, and for a moment she let her memories carry her away, and she took a few seconds to examine where she'd been then, where she was now, and where'd she'd always wanted to be, and tried to determine whether or not she'd made it there.
That answer was easy.
“No, I'm not content,” she said. “I have too much unresolved regret to be content.”
Her ex-husband, her sister, her niece, her parents, her oldest child... none of that had been resolved yet, and she had to wonder if it ever would be.
“Sorry,” Marissa apologized, and turned back to Isha. “I've probably not done what you needed me to do, have I? How can I teach you about victory like this when I don't know that I've really experienced it?”
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Posted: Sat Oct 26, 2013 12:05 am
While Marissa spoke, Isha followed her eyes, watching them move from from being fixated on him, to the little one in her chair, then to some far off place that he couldn't proceed with her. Was she perhaps adding up her own experiences, to gather a proper answer. The boy couldn't say he wasn't expecting the answer he received.
"No, No, it's quite alright, Marissa. You've opened my eyes to quite a bit, to be honest. I'm starting to think that no one really knows victory until death. Until those last moments in life, where you can think back and reflect on everything. I don't think you need me to tell you what you should do, but I personally hate leaving things unfinished. It's a rather gross feeling, In my opinion." He smiled at the woman, finishing up his tea in a few long sips.
"Sometimes things just don't work out like we want them to, they work out in a different way. So I'd like to say that this meeting was a well spent one for me."
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