h1

Q. YARRA BANK TALK

November 9, 2009

Layla sat squat and shut down on a Yarra riverbank bench.  Her dark eyes funneling ant activities.

Gurgling apologetically at her shoulder, Uncle Pippy good-naturedly attempted to prod a response out of her.

You’re not a happy bunny then?

In her own time, she dealt curtly with the low priority question.

“Pippy.  I’m not even a bunny.”

His steel was sliced.  Just like that… the boundaries had shifted.  Top-heavy and dizzy, Pippy teetered.  He felt the relationship twist and buckle under the burden.  What a jaded old shining he was.  He’d been too heavy handed with the beautiful girl.

How uncivil of me.  But let there be no doubt that I always have your best interests in mind.  It’s just… I’ve gotten a little… comfortable recently.  Comfortable, self-absorbed and… unproductive.

Un what?  Unfortunate choice of words, Pippy.  She did, she winced.  Aargh.  Having gone as low as he could go, Pippy gave up the ghost, turned into a blanket and hid beneath himself.

Irritating.  Her dreams of motherhood obliterated, Layla desperately needed this time to work on nailing down new purpose, new meaning, new values.  But Pippy, contributor to her calamitous change of circumstance, was behaving bizarrely and getting in her way.

This was Callo all over again.  It had been easier to accept Pippy’s will when she perceived him as all-wise and aloof.  His current childish need for forgiveness and reassurance made her episode seem meaningless… it amplified her hardship.  But bite your lip… there’s no choice but to soldier on, is there?

That may be… but surely you’re worth an explanation.

Layla stood up wearily and looked back towards Pippy… still stupidly bunkered.

“I’ve got to make sense of all this.  Tell me the whole story.”

I can’t.

Wryght.  Well go…  No wait.  Not yet.

“You can’t?  Because you don’t know or because you don’t want to?”

Pippy’s silence was sorrowful and tight-lipped until.

Because it would affect the outcome.

Momentarily, she felt so much contempt for him.  Then, her poker instincts kicked in.  In reality, Pippy was in a weak position.  She could move all-in on his ass.  But what would she win by doing that?  He needs me, she thought.  He needs me and now I’m am in position.  Time to try a different tack.  She sang this lightly:

“Come on Pippy.  You can come out.  I can only hear your muffles.”

Pippy emerged, glowing with shame.

“Look Pippy, how are we going to proceed?”

How would you like to proceed?

“Yeah, go on, I can live with that.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: