I was moving my laundry into the dryer and I had this horrifying thought: maybe he secretly hates me because he knows what I did.
It’s stupid to think so. We wouldn’t be friendly apart from when our interactions with her overlap…but still…what if he did resent our being friends because of what happened? I never thought about that. That he might dislike me or feel any particular way at all about me.
Like me with stupid Jai, letting him teach me to shoot and listening carefully to all his instructions while still hating him so much that my blood was boiling. He did not know I hated him that much.
Now I will feel weird about things next time I see them. I didn’t mean to. It just…happened. Like everything always does.
She doesn’t hate me though, and I am certain of that at least, which makes me feel both a little better and a little more guilty.
I do kind of wish we hadn’t gotten onto the subject of Game of Thrones…something about falling down all the steep hills and missing our footing on the tangled roots that form steps in places by the stream, and how if she fell, we would put her in a basket and Schyler would have to carry her.
He was walking a good bit ahead of us by then, being sullen and acting like he was not with us.
Her: So, if I fall to my dea–
Me: Not fall. Say plummet–it sounds much better. And you’re not dying, just breaking your legs.
Her: Okay, fine. So I plummet to the bottom of a cliff and break my legs: how do you feel about being my Hodor?
he turns a little towards us: Hodor.
Her: I’ll take that as a yes.
Me: Good. I don’t know how I’d get you back to the car otherwise. I lack the tallness and broadness.
Her: So…who are you?
Me: A good question. You tell me.
Her: What about…Tyrion?
Me: What? Now, I’m not that tall, but I’m definitely taller than that. I am maybe that clever though, so I’ll let it slide…
Her: Well, you can’t be the Hound.
Me: I don’t kill people nearly often enough.
Her: Hm. Who am I? Schyler! Who am I?
Me: Hot Pie.
Her: What?! I don’t wanna be Hot Pie!
Me: Well, you used to work in a kitchen…
I don’t know.
I always read too much into it when anyone tells me they think I am like anything…I am utterly baffled at her choosing the dwarf for my character though.
Of course, I think I’d be just as baffled to be named any of the other characters in that series, either. Too much going on in every one. Too, too much.
Maybe that is why I like the series–the show and books–so much. Because of the excess of characterization. Because so much of each character is only what they think they know or feel in their own heads, and not things that actually happened.
So much like all the things that matter to me so much, and how three of four only really happened in my head.
Like wondering if he hates me for what I let happen to her. And how I know she doesn’t hate me, but still feel the weight of whatever she left unsaid. And how much I want to hurt and maim these men who have hurt my friends.
Words are too hard, but actions are a hundred thousand times harder when you don’t know what to do except use each word to propel you further away from the happening until it is lost in so many meaningless characters.