Chapter 4
“Well, did he show this time?”
“=^_^=”
“That good?”
“He brought me roses!”
“Brought you what?”
“You’ve never heard about roses?”
“I’ve heard the stories. How’d he find them, or did he bring plastic kitsch?”
“The real thing.”
“I thought they were extinct?”
“Grew them on his roof. From bulbs or something.”
“Seeds. Roses grow from seeds.”
“How do you know that? Thought you weren’t into extraneous physicality of the pre-digital age?”
"Give me some credit. I’m the one in my third year, while you’ve only been in college since the start of summer. You’re certainly not supposed to be courting with a drop. You’re prohibited from courting until your third year.”
“We’re two years apart. What’s the difference?”
“The difference is why you’re supposed to wait. You’ll see when you’re my age.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Sounds like circuit logic.”
“Circuit or circular, it’s the rationale.”
“Don’t go fronting me with the rationale, Vidalia. You’re a comp-sci major. What do you know about it?”
“Where do you think the rationale comes from? All reversed engineered from comp-sci discoveries, reason over emotionalism.”
“Now you’re tossing college jargon.”
“See. You don’t understand.”
“I see you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“He brought me roses.”
“What not.”
“They smelt like dawn.”
“What not.”
“Do you even know what dawn smells like, Vidalia?”
“I said, ‘what not.’”
“Act like you don’t care, but you knew about the roses.”
“What does that prove?”
“Proves you’ve thought about it, too.”
“Thought about what?”
“The boy in the fairy tale, the one our mothers passed down. The one they used to tell before trace was legalized.”
“Trace is a City myth.”
“Marco doesn’t think so.”
“A modern myth. So are roses”
“I think it’s true love.”
“How would you know?”
“I feel it.”
“Feeling without supportive evidence is treason.”
“Stop with Mod jargon. I have my evidence.”
“The roses?”
“That. And much more.”
“You’re too young to judge. That’s why courtship is banned before junior year. You could hurt yourself.”
“What do you know about it? We’re two years apart, Vidalia. You were taking the same classes as me two years ago.”
“That difference is everything.”
"Then why’d they start holding our annual dances together?”
“A mistake of short term efficiency.”
“You’re talking in riddles again.”
“That’s because you’re too young to understand.”
“I’m in love.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Marco loves me.”
“How would he know?”
“Now Marco is too young to know?”
“He’s a drop. How can he develop the reason to love without finishing college? He’s preying on you with overt physicality. Untrained, undeveloped, and misdirected.”
“He’s self-taught.”
“That’s jib. Can’t teach yourself anything worth knowing.”
“He taught himself how to grow the roses on his roof, how to collect rain water before the dry season. He taught himself how to sew me a new dress.”
“I’m sure his parents taught him.”
“So? He didn’t need college.”
“Fine, so he can cut cloth, sew a dress, maybe place a few buttons. What does that prove?”
“It’s a wedding dress. We’re going to marry.”
“Marry? Are you insane? Licenses aren’t issued until senior year.”
“Marco found a loophole and a justice willing to marry us. You’re not the only one who can teach herself the finer points of the rationale.”
“How can you do this to yourself? What if you’re wrong? What if it’s not real love? They’ll send you away, cut your parents’ ship. Your parents will be off.”
“If you would let me tell it, you’ll believe.”
“Tell me what?”
“About last night.”
“What about?”
“Our feelings, the facts. I’ll tell you everything. Then you be the judge. I want your approval, Vidalia. You’re my best. I want you to say it’s ok.”
“Fine. I’ll weigh evenly. Just get to the telling.”