Mary and Daphne #128 (Patreon)

“Daffy?” Mary asked me with a very quizzical look on her face. “Honey?”

Not that I was getting teary, but I was, and I think she was probably wondering why since nothing had happened in the past few seconds that she could see. But I could see it.

“(Sniffle).”

“What’s wrong,” she asked and put her arms around me. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry (sniffle-snort).”

“Why are you crying?”

“I don’t wanna say.”

“Well, you have to.” I made my big puppy dog eyes at her, which only made her grin at me and say, “Or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

“Buhoohoo waaaah!” I swear I’m a grown up. Really.

“I didn’t give it to you yet, silly little girl.”

I can only imagine what Mary was thinking. Probably that I’d taken leave of my senses, but that’s not a recent thing. I left my senses at a highway rest stop the first time Mary took me over her knee at a highway rest stop, and we drove off and left them there and ya know what? Don’t miss them that much.

“Daffodil (kiss), sweetie, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“You have a grey hair-air-air (snort-snob).”

“What?”

“You have a grey hair.” I looked through my ridiculous tears and saw her giving me her what-would-she-be-like-if-she-were-pregnant look. Totally crazy – that’s what I’d be like.

“You silly goose,” she called me.

“Please don’t get older.” Yeah, even I’m aware that’s nonsense, but then, I’m known for nonsense. ‘There goes Daphne,’ people say, ‘so full of nonsense.’ Really.

She laughed her you-really-are-such-a-silly-goose laugh at me and squeezed me. “Know what I think,” she asked. “I think someone’s period is about to start.”

“Gee, ya think!?!” Hormones! Hormones everywhere! Why this month is worse than others, I dunno. “Sorry … I’m done crying.”

“Let’s go wash your pretty face and blow your nose.”

“Kay.”

“And then we can have a talk about the changes that are happening in your body.”

“(Sniff) That’s not funny.” Maybe a little funny, but don’t tell her.

She led me toward the stairs, and I had every intention of asking her to take a nap with me, confident she would cuz she likes me and stuff.

“Mary,” I said, “but seriously, let’s not get old.”

“We’ll try, but growing old with you wouldn’t be half bad.”

“If we have to.”

“My Daffodil.”

“My Mary.”