{fic - theinner_voices 3.a} There's Always a Catch.
3.a) "But you won't take the sting out of these words before I say them." - Eminem, Not Afraid
Title→ There's Always a Catch.
Synopsis→ Dinner always seems to go awry.
Verse→ Kafka
Who→ Martin Gray
Warning→ Verbal abuse. Sort of? Condescending, at least.
Authors Note→ For reference information, for the most part. Insight as to why Gabriella is the way she is re: the need to be the best.
“I’ve got something for you, sweetheart.”
Gabriella looked up from the small slice of pie she had been working on, and at her father with a curious expression on her face. “You got me something? What is it?”
There was a sort of childlike excitement in her eyes as she watched him nod and smile.
“Mhm. You wait right here while I go and get it for you.”
She did as told as he got up and left the room, finishing off the last bit of pie and ice cream, and wiping her mouth by the time he returned. “Should I close my eyes, Dad?”
“If you want,” he called back, and she did, because to her it just made it all that more exciting.
It had been a long time since she’d been able to get through a dinner with her father without arguing about something, whether it be who she dated, or what she did for work, and it felt good. She’d missed it, and thus far there hadn’t been a word of it. Of course that had been her doing, for the most part. Purposefully avoiding questions about work and her personal life in general, and instead getting him to tell her how he was doing, and what news there was around his life, and it seemed to have worked. He’d even told her that he’d been out to coffee with a nice woman they went to church with, and though she couldn’t remember exactly who it was, she was sure that he had made the right decision. He seemed happy, and she was happy for him.
“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”
That was until she did, and everything came crashing down again.
“I went to the library and got it through the internet for you!”
“Dad…you really shouldn’t have done that.” There was a frown in place of the smile now as she took the thick envelope bearing the emblem of Harvard, and she knew what would be inside without even having to open it. He’d mentioned dozens of times that she could have, should have attended Harvard Law School over the years. That she was throwing away her brilliance, as he put it, doing grease monkey work. That was how he saw it, after all.
“And! I’m going to give you the money that you need for the application fees, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve done the math. If I take out a mortgage on the shop, and get a loan, I’ll be able to help pay your tuition too, so you won’t have to worry about that either.” He beamed at her as he sat down again, happily cutting himself another piece of pie as she still stared at the packet. “It’s polite to say thank you when someone gives you something, Gabriella.”
That finally snapped her out of it, and she looked at him, her shoulders slumped now as she hugged the envelope against her chest, although the reasoning behind that was that she was hugging herself, really.
“Daddy. I…I already completed my college education. I went to Stanford, remember? And I even have a job now. A good one…” But she knew that was a moot point to make, just as she knew what he was going to say next.
“Oh, Gabriella. Building robots is a hobby,” he replied dismissively. She opened her mouth to say something at that, but their eyes met across the table, and it closed again. “You could have at least applied at Stark Industries if you felt it absolutely necessary to waste your life on it.”
She’d heard it all before. They’d argued about it before. Of course she had known a long time how much her father liked Stark, and Stark Industries. He’d attended the Expo in ’74, but things were different now, but he didn’t see that. And explaining that working for Hammer meant she was helping rebuild, and revamp the company was something she’d found to be another point that was moot in his books.
“But…I like what I do.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, and her gaze focused on the table. She felt like a little girl again at times like these, being scolded because she took a cookie from the plate the neighbour had brought over before dinner. “It makes me happy.”
“And I’m sure you’ll be able to find happiness at Harvard, too. You have said you miss going to school, and learning after all. You’ll get to do that again. And after you’ll have the chance at a real career.” Briefly she lifted his gaze to look at him, and inwardly sighed. The look on his face was like this was her graduation day, and she was valedictorian, instead of it being considering applying. “One day I’ll be able to walk past a building downtown and point up to the sign and say ‘You see the Gray, there? That’s my little girl. I’m so proud of her’.”
“But…”
“Now don’t start with your buts, Gabriella. I’m just trying to look out for you so you get the most out of life. You’re my special little girl, after all.” She forced herself to look up at him now, but she couldn’t hold his gaze long, instead focusing on his mouth. “You’re brilliant. You could do anything as long as you put your mind to it. You could even be President if you really wanted to.”
“But I don’t like public speaking.” Her voice was soft, meek even as she spoke, though that wasn’t something her father took seriously as he let out a booming laugh at it.
“I’m sure that they have classes that’ll help you get over that at Harvard. Now let me go get the application fee money for you. I’m sure you’ll want to get to working on that right away. The deadline for sending it in is January 1st, but it’s probably best to get it in as soon as possible.” As he spoke he was getting up again, going to the cupboard from which he removed a white envelope with her name on it. “I spoke to Mr.Nichols, your dean, and he’d be more than happy to write you up a letter of recommendation. And that…French teacher of yours. You were close, weren’t you? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind writing one for you either, if you called him. He always spoke so fondly of you whenever I was up there.”
She mumbled a response to that, though one that was more or less indistinguishable.
“Sit up straight, dear, no one likes a girl with a humped back.”
She did as told, and was met with a kiss to the top of her head, and the envelope being slid in between the other and her chest.
“Now what do you say?”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her grip on the papers tightened as she said it. “I should probably get going now, though. Work, tomorrow. Early. And I know you don’t like me walking when it’s too late.”
She got up and turned to face him, biting gently at her lower lip.
“Oh, don’t look so down, baby girl. Smile for me.”
She forced a smile onto her face as requested, though it never really reached her eyes. Nonetheless, it seemed to satisfy her father, and he smiled brightly in return, pulling her to him so he could kiss her forehead. “That’s my girl. You’re so pretty when you smile.”
That comment made the smile an inkling more genuine.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, Daddy. I’ll pick up your medication for you, too, so you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”
“Alright. You’re so good to take care of your old man the way you do.”
To that she simply nodded and forced another small smile, before turning to first clear up her dishes, putting them into the sink before heading towards the door, her father having sat back down at the table to finish his pie.
“Bye, Daddy.”
“Good bye, sweetie.”
Title→ There's Always a Catch.
Synopsis→ Dinner always seems to go awry.
Verse→ Kafka
Who→ Martin Gray
Warning→ Verbal abuse. Sort of? Condescending, at least.
Authors Note→ For reference information, for the most part. Insight as to why Gabriella is the way she is re: the need to be the best.
“I’ve got something for you, sweetheart.”
Gabriella looked up from the small slice of pie she had been working on, and at her father with a curious expression on her face. “You got me something? What is it?”
There was a sort of childlike excitement in her eyes as she watched him nod and smile.
“Mhm. You wait right here while I go and get it for you.”
She did as told as he got up and left the room, finishing off the last bit of pie and ice cream, and wiping her mouth by the time he returned. “Should I close my eyes, Dad?”
“If you want,” he called back, and she did, because to her it just made it all that more exciting.
It had been a long time since she’d been able to get through a dinner with her father without arguing about something, whether it be who she dated, or what she did for work, and it felt good. She’d missed it, and thus far there hadn’t been a word of it. Of course that had been her doing, for the most part. Purposefully avoiding questions about work and her personal life in general, and instead getting him to tell her how he was doing, and what news there was around his life, and it seemed to have worked. He’d even told her that he’d been out to coffee with a nice woman they went to church with, and though she couldn’t remember exactly who it was, she was sure that he had made the right decision. He seemed happy, and she was happy for him.
“Alright, you can open your eyes now.”
That was until she did, and everything came crashing down again.
“I went to the library and got it through the internet for you!”
“Dad…you really shouldn’t have done that.” There was a frown in place of the smile now as she took the thick envelope bearing the emblem of Harvard, and she knew what would be inside without even having to open it. He’d mentioned dozens of times that she could have, should have attended Harvard Law School over the years. That she was throwing away her brilliance, as he put it, doing grease monkey work. That was how he saw it, after all.
“And! I’m going to give you the money that you need for the application fees, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ve done the math. If I take out a mortgage on the shop, and get a loan, I’ll be able to help pay your tuition too, so you won’t have to worry about that either.” He beamed at her as he sat down again, happily cutting himself another piece of pie as she still stared at the packet. “It’s polite to say thank you when someone gives you something, Gabriella.”
That finally snapped her out of it, and she looked at him, her shoulders slumped now as she hugged the envelope against her chest, although the reasoning behind that was that she was hugging herself, really.
“Daddy. I…I already completed my college education. I went to Stanford, remember? And I even have a job now. A good one…” But she knew that was a moot point to make, just as she knew what he was going to say next.
“Oh, Gabriella. Building robots is a hobby,” he replied dismissively. She opened her mouth to say something at that, but their eyes met across the table, and it closed again. “You could have at least applied at Stark Industries if you felt it absolutely necessary to waste your life on it.”
She’d heard it all before. They’d argued about it before. Of course she had known a long time how much her father liked Stark, and Stark Industries. He’d attended the Expo in ’74, but things were different now, but he didn’t see that. And explaining that working for Hammer meant she was helping rebuild, and revamp the company was something she’d found to be another point that was moot in his books.
“But…I like what I do.” Her voice was quiet as she spoke, and her gaze focused on the table. She felt like a little girl again at times like these, being scolded because she took a cookie from the plate the neighbour had brought over before dinner. “It makes me happy.”
“And I’m sure you’ll be able to find happiness at Harvard, too. You have said you miss going to school, and learning after all. You’ll get to do that again. And after you’ll have the chance at a real career.” Briefly she lifted his gaze to look at him, and inwardly sighed. The look on his face was like this was her graduation day, and she was valedictorian, instead of it being considering applying. “One day I’ll be able to walk past a building downtown and point up to the sign and say ‘You see the Gray, there? That’s my little girl. I’m so proud of her’.”
“But…”
“Now don’t start with your buts, Gabriella. I’m just trying to look out for you so you get the most out of life. You’re my special little girl, after all.” She forced herself to look up at him now, but she couldn’t hold his gaze long, instead focusing on his mouth. “You’re brilliant. You could do anything as long as you put your mind to it. You could even be President if you really wanted to.”
“But I don’t like public speaking.” Her voice was soft, meek even as she spoke, though that wasn’t something her father took seriously as he let out a booming laugh at it.
“I’m sure that they have classes that’ll help you get over that at Harvard. Now let me go get the application fee money for you. I’m sure you’ll want to get to working on that right away. The deadline for sending it in is January 1st, but it’s probably best to get it in as soon as possible.” As he spoke he was getting up again, going to the cupboard from which he removed a white envelope with her name on it. “I spoke to Mr.Nichols, your dean, and he’d be more than happy to write you up a letter of recommendation. And that…French teacher of yours. You were close, weren’t you? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind writing one for you either, if you called him. He always spoke so fondly of you whenever I was up there.”
She mumbled a response to that, though one that was more or less indistinguishable.
“Sit up straight, dear, no one likes a girl with a humped back.”
She did as told, and was met with a kiss to the top of her head, and the envelope being slid in between the other and her chest.
“Now what do you say?”
“Thank you, Daddy.” Her grip on the papers tightened as she said it. “I should probably get going now, though. Work, tomorrow. Early. And I know you don’t like me walking when it’s too late.”
She got up and turned to face him, biting gently at her lower lip.
“Oh, don’t look so down, baby girl. Smile for me.”
She forced a smile onto her face as requested, though it never really reached her eyes. Nonetheless, it seemed to satisfy her father, and he smiled brightly in return, pulling her to him so he could kiss her forehead. “That’s my girl. You’re so pretty when you smile.”
That comment made the smile an inkling more genuine.
“I’ll see you on Sunday, Daddy. I’ll pick up your medication for you, too, so you don’t have to worry about that, okay?”
“Alright. You’re so good to take care of your old man the way you do.”
To that she simply nodded and forced another small smile, before turning to first clear up her dishes, putting them into the sink before heading towards the door, her father having sat back down at the table to finish his pie.
“Bye, Daddy.”
“Good bye, sweetie.”