Indian Chubby

"Go away, ' she whispered. "I hate you."The image faded and she stood quickly, moving to the lighthouse she put her face against its' rough surface. The cold of the stone felt good on her flushed skin. Her eyes felt gritty, she hadn't slept for days. The voices wouldn't let her, they just kept talking and talking. How long had she been out here? Time was meaningless to her now, she had to wait. Sitting on the blanket she picked up the sandwich and took a bite. The bread was hard, it had been sitting there for hours and she tossed it aside. Hunger was the least of her problems, food had no appeal. She curled up in the blanket, trying to stop the images in her head. No use; they flooded her brain. A raging torrent of memories which wouldn't be denied anymore.Walking home at fourteen, hand in hand with her first boyfriend. She wasn't popular, her clothes the cheapest her mother could buy. Her mother bought clothes for durability not fashion, she could still hear the whispers and laughs. Everyone will know and you won’t want me anymore.”I led Kate back to the recliner in which we’d so recently made love and settled her on my lap, petting her hair and whispering softly to her. We weren’t going to get any painting done today, but I didn’t care.“Unless you are an axe murderer or a child-rapist, I don’t think there is anything you’ve ever done that could possibly make us hate you, Kitten. I’m going to forgive you right now for the lie, whatever it was. I promise I will never hold it against you. You don’t even have to tell me if you don’t want to.”That resulted in renewed sobs, and when she’d finally settled a little, she kept her head facing my chest.“I can’t go to Las Vegas for our twenty-first birthday. It ... isn’t my twenty-first. It’s only my nineteenth,” she gasped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to know I wasn’t as old as you.”“What? Why would that make a difference? We’re not going to be upset about ... But you’re a junior in college. How old were you when you.
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