The Art of Duplication: Part Three
Rating: PG
Summary: All along something inside her has been missing, but the question isn't whether or not he can find it.
***
THREE;
forgetting what you know
He drives her to school every morning except for Thursdays. Thursdays he doesn't come by, it's unspoken, and after the first day she doesn't wait for him.
One time, she comes close to asking him why. One time, she feels the acidic answers before she asks the question, the burn on her lips and the fire in her throat. One time, like other times, she swallows before the words come out.
She never sees him on Thursdays.
On Thursdays she eats lunch by herself in the library, with herself as the only company she needs. On Thursdays she doesn't speak to anyone, and on Thursdays she doesn't think about Fridays.
***
More out of politeness than anything else, he asks to meet her friends. He speaks in soft and gentle tones, devoid of the normal severity, and she knows that he does not really care. He speaks like her father does, and she knows that he does not really care.
She answers quickly, nimbly, like a pre-programmed doll.
Yes, thank you.
No, thank you.
Please (kind sir).
She answers with ease, with automation, with little doubt. She answers with lips pliant like soft plastic that can be easily moulded. He's happy with that non-committal sigh.
***
She doesn't like his friends, but she never says anything because it isn't her place to formulate an opinion on them. They're polite enough, but she knows that they don't like her much either because when they smile at her they bare their teeth. Really, though, she supposes she doesn't complain because they're just like him.
His mother looks nice, from the photos she's seen at his house anyway. His mother doesn't look like his mother, but like a young aunt or an older sister. His mother smiles in a straight line without showing any teeth.
There aren't any pictures of his father, and she's never met him, but he tells her that he's told if she looks at him from a side angle and squints he looks like the spitting image.
She thinks about his mother's photograph again and imagines that his mother is a genuine person with genuine smiles.
***
to be continued...
Summary: All along something inside her has been missing, but the question isn't whether or not he can find it.
***
THREE;
forgetting what you know
He drives her to school every morning except for Thursdays. Thursdays he doesn't come by, it's unspoken, and after the first day she doesn't wait for him.
One time, she comes close to asking him why. One time, she feels the acidic answers before she asks the question, the burn on her lips and the fire in her throat. One time, like other times, she swallows before the words come out.
She never sees him on Thursdays.
On Thursdays she eats lunch by herself in the library, with herself as the only company she needs. On Thursdays she doesn't speak to anyone, and on Thursdays she doesn't think about Fridays.
***
More out of politeness than anything else, he asks to meet her friends. He speaks in soft and gentle tones, devoid of the normal severity, and she knows that he does not really care. He speaks like her father does, and she knows that he does not really care.
She answers quickly, nimbly, like a pre-programmed doll.
Yes, thank you.
No, thank you.
Please (kind sir).
She answers with ease, with automation, with little doubt. She answers with lips pliant like soft plastic that can be easily moulded. He's happy with that non-committal sigh.
***
She doesn't like his friends, but she never says anything because it isn't her place to formulate an opinion on them. They're polite enough, but she knows that they don't like her much either because when they smile at her they bare their teeth. Really, though, she supposes she doesn't complain because they're just like him.
His mother looks nice, from the photos she's seen at his house anyway. His mother doesn't look like his mother, but like a young aunt or an older sister. His mother smiles in a straight line without showing any teeth.
There aren't any pictures of his father, and she's never met him, but he tells her that he's told if she looks at him from a side angle and squints he looks like the spitting image.
She thinks about his mother's photograph again and imagines that his mother is a genuine person with genuine smiles.
***
to be continued...