What is love? Baby don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me…no more
He was so frustrated. Stymied, really.
His ex-wife was giving him the cold shoulder silent treatment. That coupled with the hurt he glimpsed in her eyes when he chanced a rare pass over, confounded him no end.
F****** Hell. Why the F*** was he being blackballed?! Obviously not a racial epithet, in the explosive manner of it being a pejorative slur, and neither was there any sexual connotation intended. Yeah, if that was the case then he’d actually have to go with blue-balled...a tiny discoloration between black and blue.
This was PG, right? Hence, the profanity filter?
No...? Not...? Okay then.
Fuck it. What the fuckity fucks sake was up with April not fucking talking to him?!
He was aware of the irony, coming as it was – again, no intended innuendo to intercourse – from the absolute worst communicator in his corner of his world. That would be him. J Avery. In actuality, JR Avery.
Oh please...the initials were contraindicative to “Junior”. How much side-eye action did he have to employ as an acceptable eye-roll indicator?
Although…he could see why that was a possibility. He was a Junior Avery after all.
However. Plausible Deniability. He refused to acknowledge the “R”.
Just as his father had expunged him from his life, so too was Robert abandoned from his name and legacy.
He was simply, Jackson Avery.
Double Board Certified Plastic Surgeon and ENT Specialist.
And blackballed ex to one unnaturally quiet, usually terrifyingly opinionated, Trauma Surgeon.
What the Fucking Hell, April?!
And to top it all off...his step-sister, he couldn’t get to shut up. She’d give him these weird looks, start a conversation and then segue into the most obscure tangents. Like talking Game of Thrones. It defied comprehension how anyone could stan that pairing of incestuous Lannister twins?! Was she effing serious? Right in front of his salad?!
At that point he actually stopped listening to the droning monotony that was her voice. He didn’t appreciate it at all.
In an about face, he took to revengeful snubbery. Was that in fact a word...a phrase...actionable intent...an emotion or possibly skirting the edges of moral ambiguity? All he knew was that he wanted her, April, to know that he knew that she was ignoring him and consequently he was counter ignoring her. Even though they were divorced, April was still his best friend. His favorite person. Although, with this silent passive aggressive bullshit she was pulling, BFF was stretching it.
Childish petulance. He knew that he was High School Musical-ling it – minus song and dance number, of course. Coz let’s face it, any musical talent genes had totally bypassed him. Another Avery non-inheritance; close but no cigar.
Hence, with teenage-like angst, he relegated her to friendly enemy status. Frenemy.
Not that his silent pouting garnered him any attention. The opposite, in fact. Admittedly using the tactic of a girl argument wasn’t the wisest course when you pitted it against any female; they ALL were all too familiar with that ploy. Not only was it common to them, but women invented emotional manipulation. It came naturally to them.
No. He was so not patronizing an entire segment of the population and neither was he being a misogynistic sexist...or a sexist misogynist. Also not gender stereotyping the entire feminine gender.
Okay, well maybe he was. A little. And yeah he knew that wasn’t April’s MO at all. She was honest to a fault. It was just that, since he’d divorced her, she’d become a vault regarding her emotions. Not that he could blame her. It was just frustrating in the extreme.
Ergo, business as usual. Regarding usual business, that is. What the heck...plastics consults required his undivided attention with the added advantage of ER (and one exasperating red-head) avoidance.
It wasn’t an in-your-face riposte but as a silent retaliation she got the message. She knew that he knew that she was giving him the brush-off and now she would know that his response to knowing was a reciprocal disregard. So there.