The Art of Duplication: Part Two
Rating: PG
Summary: All along something inside her has been missing, but the question isn't whether or not he can find it.
***
TWO;
becoming what you always were
Sometimes they'll sit side by side and not say a single word because there's really nothing important enough to say, and she thinks that maybe it's the best relationship she's ever been in.
He's not one to open doors for her, or even hold the door as he's going through, but he tells interesting jokes and always knows how to make her forget about the bad things that happen to her that day. He also knows when to leave her alone, when to pretend not to even know of her existence. Those times she thinks that maybe he's the best friend she's ever had.
It's not an unpleasant life, she decides, because he doesn't treat her badly and she's nowhere near being the beaten wife like some people seem to think she is. She supposes that she gives off an inferior air, an uncultivated look that begs to be rescued or just simply pitied.
She's always been good at that.
***
The first day at lunch she hides out in the library because she knows there will undoubtably be an uncomfortable silence, or worse, a feeling of not belonging when she sets her tray down next to his on the table full of popular people and even more popular demeanor. He might belong there, but she does not and she knows this. That's why she stays in the library, and would've continued to stay if he hadn't come to find her. For the life of her she still can't figure out why he does. She bites her tongue when she feels the question on her lips, she doesn't ask because she knows it's unlikely that he'll have the answer anyway.
They all sit down, in a silence that almost freezes the noise in the room, and she wonders if she were wrong all the time, she'd wish for once to be right.
***
They don't kiss until the seventh 'date', and she knows that it's something her mother would be proud of until she realizes that she's had no part in that decision.
She's an old fashioned girl, a country sort of girl who has never seen a cow in her entire life. She's been raised to think that women sit and listen, and don't speak unless spoken to, and even then with only the limited vocabulary of "yes, thank you," "no, thank you," "please," and, in times of doubt, a demure sigh. If her mother had her way she'd also be saying, "please, kind sir."
He doesn't kiss her until the seventh date, and she doesn't bother wondering what is wrong with her.
***
to be continued...
Summary: All along something inside her has been missing, but the question isn't whether or not he can find it.
***
TWO;
becoming what you always were
Sometimes they'll sit side by side and not say a single word because there's really nothing important enough to say, and she thinks that maybe it's the best relationship she's ever been in.
He's not one to open doors for her, or even hold the door as he's going through, but he tells interesting jokes and always knows how to make her forget about the bad things that happen to her that day. He also knows when to leave her alone, when to pretend not to even know of her existence. Those times she thinks that maybe he's the best friend she's ever had.
It's not an unpleasant life, she decides, because he doesn't treat her badly and she's nowhere near being the beaten wife like some people seem to think she is. She supposes that she gives off an inferior air, an uncultivated look that begs to be rescued or just simply pitied.
She's always been good at that.
***
The first day at lunch she hides out in the library because she knows there will undoubtably be an uncomfortable silence, or worse, a feeling of not belonging when she sets her tray down next to his on the table full of popular people and even more popular demeanor. He might belong there, but she does not and she knows this. That's why she stays in the library, and would've continued to stay if he hadn't come to find her. For the life of her she still can't figure out why he does. She bites her tongue when she feels the question on her lips, she doesn't ask because she knows it's unlikely that he'll have the answer anyway.
They all sit down, in a silence that almost freezes the noise in the room, and she wonders if she were wrong all the time, she'd wish for once to be right.
***
They don't kiss until the seventh 'date', and she knows that it's something her mother would be proud of until she realizes that she's had no part in that decision.
She's an old fashioned girl, a country sort of girl who has never seen a cow in her entire life. She's been raised to think that women sit and listen, and don't speak unless spoken to, and even then with only the limited vocabulary of "yes, thank you," "no, thank you," "please," and, in times of doubt, a demure sigh. If her mother had her way she'd also be saying, "please, kind sir."
He doesn't kiss her until the seventh date, and she doesn't bother wondering what is wrong with her.
***
to be continued...