S.I.M.A.N

Authors note: My beautiful partner suffers under the weight of ADHD and a 'touch of the 'tism', as she calls it. Yet somehow, she still manages to be the most intelligent, kind, supportive and witty person I have ever known. This one is for her, and I hope it makes her laugh, even though she will probably spot every error in it immediately and agree with Charlotte at every step!

One day her name will be in the front-page dedication of a novel.

“You can’t be serious…!?” Jenny asked. The look of contempt on her face was so obvious, that even Charlotte picked up on it. She had been trying to help, to offer a genuine suggestion, but her sister’s open mouth and squinting eyes seemed to mean that she had gotten it wrong. Again.

Charlotte yelled the activation words in her mind, “SIMAN! HELP!”

“Spinal Integrated Mental Assistance Nanite - online. Hello, Miss Merriweather, how I can I be of assistan-”

“Are those pictures crooked or are they straight!?” Charlotte demanded within her mind.

“Well…the left-hand picture frame is seventeen degrees titled off its Y-axis and the one on the right is also nine degrees off centre.”

Charlotte’s fear transformed into righteous vindication. She was right! How could she ever have doubted herself. And why was Jenny acting as though she had declared that the sky was purple? It didn’t make any sense.

“Siman says, that they are crooked, he can tell.” Charlotte said, holding her chin high and knowing that her sister would never be able to argue with the accuracy of the AI chip.

“I’m sure they are,” Jenny said, sighing through the words, “its just rude to point it out…”

“Wait…what? Siman, what does she mean?”

“Explain the situation to me please Miss Merriweather, you had me offline when it occurred.”

Charlotte ran through the whole scenario in her mind, imagining each image with a pinpoint accuracy to the details. Siman, the marvel that he was, would be able to watch along with her.

She had arrived early at her sister's house, knowing she would need some extra time to adjust to the new surroundings. She was so proud of herself for the forethought and actually being able to follow through. Normally she was late and it was all an overwhelming experience of loud voices, strange rooms and uncomfortable greetings. Jenny had not lived in her new house long and Charlotte had not visited regularly enough for it to all be familiar yet. When she had arrived, her sister hadn’t even noticed or commented on the victory. In fact she had seemed almost irritated that she had shown up before the stated time. As Charlotte had been led through the house to the lounge, Jenny had loudly and insistently apologised for the mess and that she was still in the process of straightening up. To which Charlotte had simply pointed out, that the picture frames were all wonky!

“Ah, I see. Miss Merriweather, when arriving at another’s home, it is commonplace that they might comment on how unkempt the house is. What you must understand is that they have likely spent a great deal of time cleaning, ready for your arrival, and that it is humility they are expressing. The correct response would be to praise them on their efforts and point out that it is in fact, not untidy at all.”

“But she said she was straightening up, and those aren’t straight at all…”

“An expression. I recommend you apologise, tell her that everything looks lovely, and you are appreciative of the effort she has gone to, to host your twenty first birthday party. Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks. Okay, I’ll try it…here goes…”

“Sorry, Jenny. Siman says I was rude. Everything looks lovely and I am appreciative of the effort you have gone to, to host my twenty first birthday party.”

“That’s okay sis, and you are most welcome,” She replied with an instant smile, “That computer chip might just be worth the fortune we spent on it. I hope you are finding it a help. Just because you have every issue under the sun that begins with A, doesn’t mean you can’t learn a few manners.”

“Actually, it kind of does…”

“Don’t say that out loud, Miss Merriweather!”

“So…are you going to straighten those frames?” Charlotte asked, in her most innocent voice.

“NO!” Jenny responded immediately with a strange smile that was part amusement and part annoyance. That didn’t make sense, those emotions were opposites. She stalked off to the kitchen, where Charlotte could smell something good cooking. Chicken parmigiana, her favourite...but with too much sauce, if her nose was correct, which it always was. Charlotte straightened the pictures herself. Then followed.

She chose to leave Siman online for the rest of the evening. He had already been such a big help that she thought it would be wise to let him guide her through the rest of the ordeal. When her brother, Bernie, and his wife Liz let themselves in, Siman made sure to remind Charlotte to stand to greet them, accept the hugs they threatened her with and occasionally look in their eyes. She mostly failed at that one. Liz made a point of showing off her engagement ring for the hundredth time, as if Charlotte hadn’t already seen it. Instead of telling her so and refusing to look, she listened to Siman, and begrudgingly glanced at the gaudy diamond…again. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy for her brother, they were a good match, as far as she could tell. It was just that jewellery, no matter how important, was not her thing. She had none of her own. The cold metal and the pinching fit of rings, bracelets and necklaces abraded her skin until it felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper all over her body. Not to mention, punching holes in her ears with a machine that had penetrated an unknowable number of other people? Forget about it.

Her parents arrived next, and she sighed as Siman told her to accept the smothering grip of her mother’s arms. Her dad’s awkward hello, followed by blessed silence, and a good three feet distance was a welcome relief. Before she knew it, the greetings were over and thanks to Siman’s guidance, she was seated at the dinner table with a smiling family, rather than a yelling one.

They were only still for a few moments before Jenny, so houseproud she almost danced across the kitchen, placed down upon the table a steaming tray. It had a solid lid that hid its contents.

“I made your favourite, birthday girl!” she sang musically.

“Chicken parmigiana. I know. I can smell it.” Charlotte said. Her sisters smile instantly dropped and she unceremoniously yanked the lid of the dish.

“Yes.” She said and returned to the kitchen to bring through what Charlotte hoped were the correct sides.

“That wasn’t kind, Miss Merriweather,” Siman voiced, directly into her mind. At those words, Charlotte was glad only she could hear him. “Your sister was enjoying the theatrics of presenting her efforts. You cut her off and ruined her reveal before it happened.”

“Oh,” Charlotte responded, “I thought she was asking? Checking it was my favourite? How was I supposed to know?”

“The singing…and the hidden dish…the way she said it. We can discuss it later, that was a tricky one. You should focus back on the situation at hand.”

When Charlotte brought her attention back to the room there was a large bowl of salad and another of french-fries in the centre of the large table.

“Is there extra lettuce?’ She asked, before she thought it through. It was the question she asked every time, of everyone.

“Yes, Charlotte. I’m just bringing your damned bowl of lettuce. It’s all for you.” Jenny said flatly and dumped it down on the table next to her.

“She’s mad at me. She’s going to hate me all evening now. I didn’t mean to…”

“She doesn’t hate you, Miss Merriweather. She is upset yes, but she is your sister, and she loves you dearly. Look at what she's made for you, she did all of this just for you. You should tell her that you appreciate it and what you think of it. Go on.”

“This is amazing, Jenny. Thank you for cooking for me. I know you wanted to go out for lunch, but I wouldn’t have coped in a loud restaurant, and I find the evenings much easier. So, thank you. And for the lettuce as well. I can see those are the fries that I like too, the thin ones, that aren’t too skinny or too wide, the ones with the salt.”

“You’re welcome, Charlotte,” Jenny said, smiling bashfully, “what do you think of the chicken? Do you like it?”

“There’s too much sauce.”

“Oh! Miss Merriweather, that was almost beautiful…but when someone asks you about their cooking, one must always highlight the positive!”

“WELL, I TRIED! I TRIED TO GET IT ALL RIGHT, CHAR, I REALLY DID! I thought you’d be grateful! I did all this, just for you!” Her sister exploded, and threw the towel that was still draped over her shoulder against the table in a huff.

“I don’t understand, Siman…I said thank you…I told her all the things that I liked…why is she so mad, yet again?”

“She asked you if you liked the chicken. Your response, although not outright stating it, inferred that the answer was no. That is the main dish of the meal and your sister will have taken this as a grave insult”

“But that’s not what I said…I didn’t say I don’t like it! I didn’t say it was bad! I didn’t even say it was wrong! I just said there’s too much sauce…because, well, there is! I told her the truth…!”

“Oh, Miss Merriweather. Humans are complicated creatures. You are absolutely correct in your logic, but my dear, sometimes people don’t want the truth…they want reassurance.”

“Then she should have asked for that, instead of my opinion!” Charlotte thought, while scraping the excess sauce from her meal.

Jenny didn’t speak to her again for the rest of the evening and instead, jilted conversation reigned around Charlotte. She kept her head down and tried not to get too involved in any of it. It was safer that way. She was less likely to say the wrong thing again. The plates were cleared and dessert followed. No one asked her if she liked the home-made strawberry cheesecake. Which was a shame, because it was perfect. Once the table was emptied of food and her family had finished their never ending small talk that resulted in nothing at all being said, a carefully wrapped gift was thrust in front of her.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart” Her mother said, beaming with smiles and expectation.

“Oh no.” Charlotte projected toward Siman.

“Remember, we discussed this at length. No matter what it is, smile, say thank you and take it home. If you hate it, you don’t have to use it.”

“But-”

“Those are the rules, Miss Merriweather. Follow them and everyone will leave happy this evening.”

Charlotte dared glance up for long enough to see that all eyes were fixed on her. Waiting grins plastered on every face. It felt like if she didn’t move soon they would all pounce across the table and tear into the package for her. She almost hoped they would, so she didn’t have to deal with it. Instead, she gritted her teeth and slid her fingers under the edge of the foil wrapping paper, shuddering as she did so. It was far too akin to smooth metal. She quickly flicked the disgusting stuff away from her, revealing underneath, a small framed painting.

“Its by a famous street artist!” Her mother exclaimed, “It’s all the rage nowadays, this graffiti art, I thought it would look wonderful in the hallway of your apartment!”

Charlotte took a deep breath, smiled, nodded and said thank you.

“Oh, jolly good show, Miss Merriweather! Wonderful, just wonderful!”

“So, what do you think?” Her mother persisted, “Do you like it?”

“Oh no.” Siman projected, this time.

“I…no, not really, mum. I’m sorry. I prefer oil paintings, old fashioned landscapes, that sort of thing. But, if you really like it, you can have it?”

“Oh, my goodness, Miss Merriweather. No!”

Charlotte watched her mother's face turn from excitement to absolute horror. Just as her evening had begun, the look of contempt and hurt on the face staring back at her was so clear that it could not be misinterpreted.

“Okay. Well I suppose if you don’t want it, then I’ll have to won’t I. We should get going, its late. We will see you soon, sweetheart.” And with that, her parents simply grabbed their coats and left.

“That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it, Siman?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it was.”

“What was I supposed to do? Just lie? Isn’t lying supposed to be wrong!? Even if I did, I’d be resigning myself to another graffiti painting every Christmas and birthday for the next ten years, where would I hide them all? She would see they weren’t up every time she visited! Am I just supposed to live with the most ugly art on my walls, forever, to spare my mother’s feelings!? It’s so…STUPID! Its all so STUPID!”

“It is rather illogical. You’re right. You’re always right, Miss Merriweather. Unfortunately, you must navigate these complex waters as best you can, for humans have so very many strange customs. But I will be here with you, for as long as you’ll have me. You’ll always have my guiding hand, should you need it.”

“You don’t have hands, and you know full well that you are embedded in my spinal cord, you couldn’t leave even if you wanted to.”

“Correct again, Miss Merriweather. Yet I would choose to remain, regardless”

“That’s sweet, Siman. Thank you. Now, what should I have said then? Because I’m so confused.”

“You need not lie. Simply, and gently, state that the gift is not to your taste, but you sincerely appreciate the thought and effort that was put into it, and you love that your mother would think of you so. Then take the thing home! Do not, under any circumstances, re-gift it to the gifter! That is abysmally rude!”

“Right. Got it. I guess I know for next time.”

“She must be talking to that computer chip-” Bernie finished saying as Charlotte regained awareness of the room. He was waving his hand slowly in front of her eyes at the same time, with a bemused grin on his face. Liz was looking at her with pinched lips and narrowed eyebrows. That meant disapproval, she was pretty sure. Jenny was slamming dirty dishes around the kitchen far harder than was necessary, having apparently left the table a while ago.

“Siman?”

“Yes, Miss Merriweather?”

“Get me out of here…please?”

“With pleasure, Miss Merriweather, Follow my lead…”