response #2 to challenge "the language of flowers"
Set pre-series. Emilyfic. Slightly over the word limit.
"Cultivating Ivy"
Even before they've unpacked all the boxes in their new Los Angeles home, Emily is in the yard, setting up a wire trellis. Soil beneath her fingernails, she shoves wires into the earth, creating a naked arch that looks stark in the neatly mowed lawn.
Too neat, in Emily's opinion. She wants rosebushes with large, droopy blossoms and hydrangeas for a soft, scrolling hedge in all the changeable colors of the sky. And she wants ivy. It will take years for the leaves to claim this trellis for their own, but they will eventually.
Emily intends to be here to see it. In a small way, this is a statement she's making to Arvin. No more moves, no more new countries. Now that he's out of intelligence, they can have safety and stability in their lives. They have time to cultivate ivy.
**
Two years after they're moved in, Emily overhears Arvin on the phone in the next room. What he says is very innocuous, except for one word: "Blowback."
This is spook-speak, a term for the unintended consequences of an intelligence operation. Possibly Arvin is simply using it out of force of habit. Emily knows how that goes. After years of listening to him talk that way, she had started using the word herself to refer to silly things, little accidents.
Possibly he isn't.
She is bewildered, then furious, then frightened. Twilight finds her wondering whether will confront him. Emily knows that she should; he will reassure her (because he couldn't have gone back, not after he promised), and then she will feel better.
Instead she wanders out into her garden, sipping a glass of wine, and inspects her trellis. The ivy is almost halfway up the sides now, covering most of the wire on the way.
**
Three years after that, Emily finds an airplane ticket in one of Arvin's books. Supposedly he was reading it on a business trip to New York for the bank; however, the dogeared ticket-turned-bookmark between the pages says that he went to London. As "Caspar Hawks," no less.
Emily is familiar with the name. Arvin never told her much about his CIA work, but he once let her invent an alias for him. Apparently he still likes it.
After two years of doubt and worry and curiosity, Emily finds that she is neither shocked nor disappointed. Her husband broke his promise to her, but isn't he really keeping a promise to his country? He's doing good work. The best way for her to support him is to accept the lie.
Five years ago, she wouldn't have accepted it so easily. But that was five years ago, when she had just quit working, and when she'd lived in four countries during the previous decade, and she had professional ties and friendships that have - atrophied, somehow.
Emily remembers what she was like then and thinks only that she was in a lot more pain. Both for reasons she can name and reasons she can't.
She puts the ticket back carefully and goes out to her garden. The ivy trellis is full and rich now, verdant with leaves. Emily considers it one of the rewards of staying still.
**
In the "language of flowers," ivy stands for marriage, but I thought it could also stand for dependence.
"Cultivating Ivy"
Even before they've unpacked all the boxes in their new Los Angeles home, Emily is in the yard, setting up a wire trellis. Soil beneath her fingernails, she shoves wires into the earth, creating a naked arch that looks stark in the neatly mowed lawn.
Too neat, in Emily's opinion. She wants rosebushes with large, droopy blossoms and hydrangeas for a soft, scrolling hedge in all the changeable colors of the sky. And she wants ivy. It will take years for the leaves to claim this trellis for their own, but they will eventually.
Emily intends to be here to see it. In a small way, this is a statement she's making to Arvin. No more moves, no more new countries. Now that he's out of intelligence, they can have safety and stability in their lives. They have time to cultivate ivy.
**
Two years after they're moved in, Emily overhears Arvin on the phone in the next room. What he says is very innocuous, except for one word: "Blowback."
This is spook-speak, a term for the unintended consequences of an intelligence operation. Possibly Arvin is simply using it out of force of habit. Emily knows how that goes. After years of listening to him talk that way, she had started using the word herself to refer to silly things, little accidents.
Possibly he isn't.
She is bewildered, then furious, then frightened. Twilight finds her wondering whether will confront him. Emily knows that she should; he will reassure her (because he couldn't have gone back, not after he promised), and then she will feel better.
Instead she wanders out into her garden, sipping a glass of wine, and inspects her trellis. The ivy is almost halfway up the sides now, covering most of the wire on the way.
**
Three years after that, Emily finds an airplane ticket in one of Arvin's books. Supposedly he was reading it on a business trip to New York for the bank; however, the dogeared ticket-turned-bookmark between the pages says that he went to London. As "Caspar Hawks," no less.
Emily is familiar with the name. Arvin never told her much about his CIA work, but he once let her invent an alias for him. Apparently he still likes it.
After two years of doubt and worry and curiosity, Emily finds that she is neither shocked nor disappointed. Her husband broke his promise to her, but isn't he really keeping a promise to his country? He's doing good work. The best way for her to support him is to accept the lie.
Five years ago, she wouldn't have accepted it so easily. But that was five years ago, when she had just quit working, and when she'd lived in four countries during the previous decade, and she had professional ties and friendships that have - atrophied, somehow.
Emily remembers what she was like then and thinks only that she was in a lot more pain. Both for reasons she can name and reasons she can't.
She puts the ticket back carefully and goes out to her garden. The ivy trellis is full and rich now, verdant with leaves. Emily considers it one of the rewards of staying still.
**
In the "language of flowers," ivy stands for marriage, but I thought it could also stand for dependence.