The Ballerina and the Revolutionary Read Online Free Page B

The Ballerina and the Revolutionary
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thousand times.’
    ‘Mum won’t be in hospital forever,’ Tomas said.
    Catherine shrugged.
    ‘How is she?’ I asked.
    Tomas’s eyes darkened. ‘You’ll see her tomorrow. She’ll be fine. She just needs a bit of peace and quiet. You know Mum.’
    ‘Not really,’ I whispered.
    ‘Did you tell ...’ Catherine frowned and looked at me for a moment, ‘ … her what happened?’ Her voice sounded sharp.
    The words made me uncomfortable, but I was sure that hadn’t been Catherine’s intention.
    Tomas flinched. ‘Sure.’
    ‘I know she had an accident,’ I said.
    Catherine laughed. I looked at her and she turned away but not before I caught a hint of malice in her icy eyes.
    ‘I should settle Little Missie for the night.’ She stood up and lifted Melissa from her rocker beside the table. The baby was fast asleep and didn’t make a sound. I expected Tomas to tell Catherine to wait until she finished her dinner, but he continued to eat in silence. I looked from one to the other, confused, but decided not to pass comment.
    ‘How’s work?’ I asked Tomas, after Catherine climbed the stairs.
    ‘Great. Top salesman almost every month.’
    I smiled. ‘Well done, Bro.’
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘This and that. Portraits mostly.’
    ‘Does it pay?’
    ‘I don’t need much.’
    He sighed. ‘You know you’ll have to grow up at some point, Sis.’
    ‘This sis thing, it kinda bothers me, you know?’ I blushed and concentrated on my food.
    ‘Not really. What do you mean?’
    ‘I ... I don’t identify as female.’
    ‘Huh?’
    ‘Have you heard of gender-queer?’
    He shook his head. ‘Is it okay, you know, if we don’t have some deep and confusing discussion about this shit right now? You know with Mum and ...’ He sighed.
    This shit? One step forward, two steps back. I stared at him coldly, trying to control my breathing, but he didn’t seem to notice. I wanted to rage at him, tell him how his dismissal of me and my identity made me feel, but I saw a tear glisten in the corner of his eye and forgot my words. He still needed me. I was his rock and a rock cannot change, not in his eyes. I watched as he brushed the tear away with the back of his hand and sniffed. We sat silently for the rest of the meal as I tried to figure out the least confrontational way to explain myself to him.
    Five minutes later, as Tomas and I cleared our plates, Catherine returned. She took our empty plates and her half-full one into the kitchen.
    ‘Can I help?’ I asked.
    ‘Don’t worry, we have a dishwasher. Would either of you like some apple pie?’
    ‘I’m full, thank you,’ I said.
    ‘You’re skin and bones, Giz. Eat something. Grow some breasts.’ Tomas laughed.
    I stared at him, hating him, imagining my eyes were daggers. ‘What the ...’
    ‘Tomas!’ Catherine shouted.
    ‘What?’ he asked.
    ‘What? Ummm, could you be any more rude, you ass-hole? I don’t even know where to start with how wrong that was,’ I said.
    ‘Hey! What did I do wrong now?’
    ‘You don’t talk about women’s breasts,’ Catherine said. ‘Especially not your sister’s and especially not when she’s sat right next to you. What are you thinking?’
    Tomas shrugged. ‘I was just saying.’ He looked grumpy as he took another sip of wine.
    I stared at them both, helplessly. Why was it so difficult to communicate with either of them? I wished for some shared language that might unite us and make them understand. In the end I sighed sadly and shook my head in resignation. ‘Well, don’t,’ I simply said.
    Catherine shot me an apologetic smile. I took my wine glass and headed for a comfortable looking arm chair. Catherine put a bowl of apple pie and a jug of cream next to Tomas and walked across towards me. ‘Coffee?’ she asked.
    ‘No, the wine’s great, thanks. Don’t let me stop you though. Oh, I’m sorry. Is it okay if I sit here and wait until you guys finish?’
    ‘Of course,’ she said and returned to the
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