Illness as an Ally
"WARNING: Humor may be hazardous to your illness." -Ellie Katz
First off, thanks for 50 reviews. fan was the 50th reviewer. Second, tomorrow I'm going to camp for three weeks. I may update once while I'm there, and if you're lucky (and you review a lot!) twice. So enjoy this. It'll be the last chapter for a week or so. Thanks to my three main reviewers here--you know who you are. :P And thanks to everyone else who reviewed! I love reviews. o.o Even if they're flames! Pleeeeease review my fic, won't you?
Chapter 16: Talkativity
"Do you remember that time," I say, and then pause, trying to think of a time.
"Which time?" he inquires quickly. I send a mental tidbit of irritation his way at being so swiftly interrupted, and he sends his apologies. All mentally, of course. It's kind of like having your brain hugged, I muse. Sort of. How would I really know what that would literally feel like? I couldn't. That would be an odd situation... then again, I'm sort of known for getting myself into those, with Yami's help. They're kind of fun, really.
Yami sends me another tiny mental inquiry, packaged with an apology. "You haven't told me what it was you want to see if I remember," he informs me in a worried tone, or what would be a worried tone if he was talking.
"Oh!" I jitter nervously. "I... well, I just wanted to know if you remembered the time... when... remember when Joey dueled with Duke, and lost? And Duke made him wear that ridiculous dog suit," I say scornfully. "That was the dirtiest, most low down thing Duke ever did."
"Yes, I agree," Yami... agrees. "But what about it? Was there something you wanted to ask me?"
"No... I just wanted to know if you remembered. Do you remember that time Joey and I followed Tea after school and caught her working at Burger World?" I smile, happy that Tea had come into my conversation. "She sprayed ketchup at us and it was on both our faces... Joey's and mine, I mean... and, it's the darnedest thing..." I sit up a bit, bringing my knees up to my chin. "Joey just seemed to wipe his hand over his face ONCE and all of the ketchup was gone. Or, at least, most of it." I simulate the movement. "Magic wave. That just freaked me out for the rest of the day. He has..." I giggle, something that I'm not really prone to do very often, because everybody at school thinks I'm babyish; I don't need the "girly" label added on. Man, my "image," as Joey would call it, sucks.
"He has magical ketchup removing powers!" I chirp. Yami gives me an odd look, telling me that he agrees it was funny but that he also wondered what I was getting at. The truth was, I wasn't getting at anything. Just then, my mom came into the room.
"Er... Yugi." She looks at me abashedly. Uh-oh. "Were you just... um... saying something?"
I give my mom a loving smile before returning my gaze to the comforting stitching on the blanket. "Who, me?"
Yes, Mom, I was talking to YAMI. Believe, darn it! ...That sounds too much like a children's Christmas movie. Maybe one with Tim Allen; I watched one with Duke once. I didn't think he was all that good of an actor, actually... and since the movie was in English I really had no clue what was being said, so I couldn't tell what the story was about.
"Yugi?" I tilt my head up to try to look at my mother with "smiling eyes." My dad, when he wasn't off on a business trip once, explained the importance of always smiling at my mother. It made her happy, it made her not worry... unless you smiled too much, which, he warned me, would make her think she was insane. Women are fickle, he said. My mom's just very... concerned about me.
So much for being talkative. My mind is racing but not enough words are being said.
"Would you like to sit and talk with me?" I offer, and she looks at me with a relieved look.
"Oh," she says. "You're only lonely."
That's impossible with Yami around. I glance toward him. He's standing awkwardly near an old clock we have. My mother follows my line of vision and gives the clock an odd look.
"Do you like that clock?" she asks me, her voice thick with curiosity.
"It's interesting," I say. It's made of wood, it squats low. I forget what type of clock it's called, but it's low, and has three arches; two small ones on the sides, and one larger one where the clock's face is. The face itself is pretty yellowed, and the thick, velvet arrows droop a bit so that the time is now around ten minutes fast. It's solid wood and about five inches from the front and the back.
"Yugi, are you feeling alright?"
I give my mom a weird look. "Yeah, aside from my illness, why?"
She pats her short, curly hair. "Because," she says with a bit of nervousness in her voice, "you just described that clock out loud."
"I'm sorry." I smile again. Apologetically this time. I chuckle.
My mom grins at me. "Why...?"
"I'm reminded of this other English movie I watched with... Duke, I think, once, when he was babysitting some kids and he wanted to duel me in the background while these kids watched a movie. It was in English, which these kids understood itperfectly well. Kids these days are too darn smart." My mom smiles. "They were watching it and there was this one part that Duke translated for me because the kids were laughing so hard... There was this chieftan guy, and he was telling these people that they thought were Gods to give them a 'big smile. Like you mean it.' "
My mom's grin wanes. "So why are you reminded of that now?"
"We both seem to be doing a lot of smiling, that's all."
My mom sits down next to me. "Yugi, were you talking to yourself before I came into the room?"
I hate lying to my mom. "No." But I'm not lying. I was talking to somebody, she wouldn't understand...
"Wouldn't understand what?" She places her hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. "Yugi?"
"Was I still talking out loud?" I asked, surprised. Yami gives me a sort of incredulous look and then simulates smacking his forehead. I laugh nervously. "Soooo," I say. "Mom."
"Soooo," she says back. "Son."
There's an awkward silence.
"You just narrated that."
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"Ah." I turn away, blushing.
"There's another awkward silence." This time it's my mother that's narrating, thinking she's caught on to my game. "Yuuuugi," she says, trying to mimic those ghostly noises you only hear ghosts make on weird, childish animes. But I can't help but smile.
"What?" I keep my chin elevated with my fist.
"You neeed to gooo to sleeeeep," she says in a ghostly groan. I roll my eyes and laugh. "Okay, mom."
She smiles and stands up. Blowing me a kiss (and earning another good-natured eye roll,) she walks to the door, where she turns around, casts me another worried look, (after all, she did catch me talking to my other self again,) and then leaves, shutting it behind me.
"Go to sleep!" she shouts six seconds later from down the hall.
"Okay!" I shout back, straining my scratchy throat. I close my mouth a bit too quickly, knocking my teeth against each other in an unpleasant way. Yami is regarding me warily. "What?" I tease. "Is my mom too mushy for you?"
I rolls his eyes, and says something. I blink incessantly until I realize that he's mouthing words, and that he doesn't want me to hear them. I narrow my eyes. "What are you saying?" I demand. He gives me a fey smile before retreating into the Millennium Puzzle, sending out a resounding "Sleep Tight."
"Hey! Get back out here and tell me--"
"Yugi?" my mom calls sweetly from the other side of the door. I freeze.
"Y-Yes mom?"
"Who are you talking to?"
"Did you know that carrots won't grow so well in shade!" I jabber.
"...Good night, Yugi."
"It's 4 in the afternoon."
"I SAID, good NIGHT, YUGI."
"...Good night Mom." I get myself comfortable and lay my head against the pillow. But I don't feel like sleeping; well, I do, but I know I shouldn't. Rest would help me get better more quickly, and if I want to milk this sore throat...
"Yami, come out, I want to talk to you."
"You're scaring me Yugi!" my mom teases from down the hall. Wow, she has good hearing.
"Goodnight, mom." Oh, well. Maybe later, then. After all, my illness is for Tea.