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Monday, July 1, 2013

We Need to Talk About Celine


Celine had just sadistically bitten her little brother and drawn blood. The violence of the act was reinforced by the fact that she’d bitten him on the tongue.

Scotto and I were appalled at her vicious aggression. This was most definitely the worst act of green-eyed jealousy she’d ever perpetrated.

“We’re going to have to do something about this behaviour…” I whispered broodingly to Scotto. “You know Grandma told me she doesn’t like Celine and Grandma loves everyone! She thinks she’s cunning… sly… sneaky.”

“No-one likes her!” exclaimed Scotto in hushed tones and a sad sense of defeat.“No-one!

His declaration hung in the air like the stale, unpleasant stench of a teenager’s fart.

It was true. I thought about our kids; Lulu, Hagar and Padraic who especially resented Celine’s surly presence beside me on the couch every night. They were frightened of her churlish lip which drew back in a snarl every time they asked her to slide over and make room for them.

Our friends nodded and smiled politely whenever we talked about Celine but I could always see the bored glaze they attempted to mask and their suppressed yawns. The truth is they couldn’t stand or trust her either, largely due to the way she slunk around shiftily whenever they came to visit.

We’d call her out of the kitchen to come and say hello but she would cower behind the door, her eyes bulging in some strange and primitive fear.

“What can we do about it?” I beseeched. “We love her to the ends of the Earth. Why doesn’t anyone else?”

“We just have to accept the fact that she’s... different,” acknowledged Scotto dejectedly.

“It doesn’t help that her little brother is so affectionate and… normal.” I added. “I’ve been away for an entire week and he was all over me like a rash when I walked in; kissing and cuddling me. 

She won’t come near me and if I try to touch her she recoils in revulsion. She’s over there in the corner staring at me with those resentful, unforgiving eyes right now. It’s almost as if she hates me for leaving her.”

We watched our inexplicable, private girl skulk over to the couch, sit on the arm rest and glower at us with protruding, blackish eyeballs.
“I hope she forgives me,” I sighed, cuddling her little brother while she jealously watched. “Maybe I shouldn’t go on holidays without her any more. This is breaking my heart.”

                              Celine- the troubled child.

Celine's little brother recovering from having his tongue bitten.