The Crane Wife by Patrick Ness Page B

but unless she’s an alien–’
    ‘There’s a thought.’
    ‘–she’s going to think you’re a crazy person.’
    ‘You wouldn’t say that if you’d met her. It just seems so natural already, so
easy
–’
    ‘See, this is how much too soon it is for you two to move in together. I haven’t even met her.’
    ‘Why don’t you come out with us for dinner on Saturday?’
    ‘Because I’m in
Romford
, and I need to bring JP over–’
    ‘Come after, when you pick him up.’
    ‘I can’t. Henri’s got his call with JP that night and I–’
    ‘I just want you to meet–’
    ‘Why should I? Why should I even remember her name just before she never speaks to you again for asking her to move in with you after two weeks?’
    ‘You know, Amanda, I sometimes wonder why you think it’s okay to talk to me like this.’
    ‘I . . .’
    ‘. . .’
    ‘. . .’
    ‘Amanda?’
    ‘. . .’
    ‘Oh, don’t
cry
, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to–’
    ‘No, no, I know you didn’t, and that’s why I’m crying. You tell me off and you do it so kindly and you’re right and I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I’m just such an evil shit–’
    ‘You’re not an evil–’
    ‘I am! Even this! How can we be sure I’m not bursting into tears so you’ll rush in and tell me how not-evil I am?’
    ‘Are you?’
    ‘I don’t know!’
    ‘Sweetheart, what’s the matter?’
    ‘. . .’
    ‘A sigh that long is never a good indicator of–’
    ‘I think I’ve fucked it up with the girls at the office.’
    ‘Oh,
Amanda
–’
    ‘I
know
, you don’t need to tell me.’
    ‘Which girls?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Which girls at the office?’
    ‘The same ones. Mei and Rachel.’
    ‘Rachel. The one who talks in questions.’
    ‘And Mei is the one whose boobs aren’t fake but look like they are. See? It’s things like that. I
think
them and then I just
say
them–’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘The usual. I opened my big, fat, fucking mouth–’
    ‘I wish you wouldn’t–’
    ‘Not the time to be shaming me for my language, Dad.’
    ‘Sorry.’
    ‘I just, I don’t
get
it. How do people do it? How do people talk so easily to one another? How do they just, I don’t know,
fall
into it and relax and there’s repartee and banter and, whatever,
ease
, and I just sit there and I think,
Okay, what are we talking about? And what should I say? And what
shouldn’t
I say? And how should I or shouldn’t I say it?
And by the time I do fucking say something, we’re three topics on.’
    ‘You couldn’t introduce topics yourself?’
    ‘That gets me into
more
trouble. I mean, this all really started to go downhill at that godawful picnic when I said how much I hated that monstrosity on Mayfair–’
    ‘Which monstrosity?’
    ‘The Animals In War Memorial.’
    ‘That? You don’t like that?’
    ‘. . .’
    ‘Oh, sweetheart, I don’t even know
why
you’re crying now, but please–’
    ‘Because I don’t understand how people talk to each other, Dad. I try, but I just blunder on in and knock over the china and spit in the soup and break all these rules that no one will even
tell
me–’
    ‘Ah, that’s an English thing. They do like their unknowable rules.’
    ‘Yeah, but I
am
English. I
am
they.’
    ‘I don’t think you’re the only one who feels left out, is all I’m saying.’
    ‘But that’s just it. Feeling left out. It was supposed to stop when I grew up but . . .’
    ‘Smart people often feel left out, love.’
    ‘I’m not
that
smart. I mean, I’m smarter than Rachel. And probably Mei, too, though that’s a well of many mysteries. So, I don’t know, maybe. But what good is being smart when you speak words and no one hears the ones you mean?’
    ‘I’m sorry, darling. Maybe they weren’t good friends for you to begin with–’
    ‘Well,
someone
has to be! I’m nearly twenty-six and I can’t even point to a best friend. Do you know how freakish that is for a girl? Girls are all
about
best