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>Who could say no to such poetry? > >Right? > >Of course right. > >--- > >Colin and I have our one and only bitchy elvish >showdown about Carrots during the week of grieving >alone in his room wherein Colin demands to be told how >Carrots is and I resist the urge to kick him in the >shins and pull his hair. > >It goes a little something like this: > >“Hey – friend of Carrots,” As you may have already >guessed, this was not a good way for Colin to begin >the conversation. > >I’m slow, and he had clearly been purposefully >lagging, so we’re alone in our emptied biology >classroom. I heave a great all-suffering sigh. > >“Yes?” > >He looks snarky and resentful for awhile before >asking, “How is he?” In a displeased tone. > >I pause, caught between my intense dislike for him and >my constant overwhelming anxiety about Carrots, the >feeling of dread that had taken up residence in my >belly since the shit hit the fan. And by that I mean, >since Celery went AWOL during Spring Break. > >“He’s not dead.” Which, when you think about it, is a >pretty big accomplishment. You know. Considering. >Also, it’s about all I can say in terms of honest >progress. > >A kind of growl noise escapes the back of his throat. >I wonder for a minute if I could get him so mad he’d >try to fight me. Not to say I’d win (he’s wiry) but >it might make me feel better. Kyle seems to think >hitting something would make us all feel better. >Ultimately, I decide against it. I sigh again, mostly >stalling for time as I try to think of something else >I could say. I’m extremely annoyed with what I >eventually come up with, because although it is >something I both can, and probably should say, it will >also almost certainly cause me a great amount of >strain. I fake one more sigh of postponement, and >suck it back deep, bracing myself for the worst. > >“Thank-you.” > >It hangs there for a minute, and I repress the urge to >squish my face in disgust ala I just ate a lemon, >until a startled, but ultimately gratified look >crosses his face. > >I shrug uncomfortably. There’s more, but I can’t >quite manage it. > >We stare at each other awkwardly for another minute >before I turn and quickly leave the room. > >The next day Kyle calls me and tells me we’re going on >a rescue mission to Calgary.

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