Change of Season
Disclaimer: Joss owns All
Feedback: yes
Pairing: Joyce/Faith
A/N This is A/U folks. meaning. Dawn is alive, Everyones Human, it takes place pre- sunnydale, and joyce gets her freak on with a young hot chick. though it's not fuffy hope you give it a chance anyway
1
"TAXI!"
Joyce waves desperately for a cab, hoping against hope one will stop. It's particularly hard when carrying two suitcases and a carry-on on your shoulder.
It's going to be one of those days, I just know it, Joyce thinks as cab's whiz by, not seeming to pay attention to her. Why should today be any different from yesterday, or the day before, or before that? Hell, it's been one of those years!
Joyce's life has not been going well, lately. She's been going through a particularly nasty divorce with her husband, Hank. Hank the Horrible, as she's coming to think of him lately, has been fighting her on everything. Custody, alimony and child support, division of assets - it's as if Joyce had been cheating on him, rather than vice versa. At least that's the way he's acting. Never mind he's been neglecting me and the kids for ... what's her face? Sheila? Selena? Oh, who gives a damn. It's just the latest little tart in his collection, and now that I'm calling him on it, he's acting like a kid. He wants it all, but for the last 10 years? Not really been there.
She went on this art buying trip to get away from Hank the Horrible and his petty games. She'd wanted to bring her two daughters, Dawn and Buffy, along; she thought the we'll get away aspect, the traveling and seeing different places might have been fun. But they had school, and that's just what she'd need: Hank having an excuse to yank them away from her. So, she left them with her Aunt, and came alone.
Maybe just as well. Not like this trip has been a pleasure cruise. Anything that could go wrong, went wrong. Delays, airport hassles, problems with the dealers, ... arrgh, I swear that someone up there hates me. Now, at last, I get a chance to just relax for a little bit, see some of Boston? And the plane is late leaving Chicago because of weather. Then, I get here, and I have to wait two hours while the idiots that unload the plane try to find my bags. Oh, and they were already off and in the system! Why do they just keep hiring morons at the baggage claim counters? Now I can't even get a cab to my hotel. God, what ELSE can you do to me?
Joyce should be careful with those little challenges.
" TAXI!" She yells out again, dropping her bags so she can wave her arms, hoping to attract something. Finally, to her immense relief, a cab pulls over to the corner.
The driver jumps out of the cab, and pops the trunk, helping Joyce get her bags stowed away. He opens the door for her, then hops back in the cab.
" Welcome to Boston, ma'am." the driver calls from the front seat. " This is your first time here, right?"
" Yes, how did you know that?" Joyce asks, puzzled.
" Anyone that's been here once knows you can't grab a cab from the front entrance. You gotta go down to the stand located in the turnaround."
" Oh, " Joyce says, feeling 100 foolish. " You stopped, though."
" Yeah, well, I saw ya there, and figgered you wouldn't be getting a cab soon if ya didn't move... so I pulled up. Most times though, nobody will. You can get a ticket real fast there."
" Well, thank you and thank god for you. You're the first thing that's gone right today, " Joyce sighs, settling back in the seat.
" So, where can I take you today, ma'am?"
" Wyndham Hotel, downtown please," Joyce says. " And I'm Joyce, by the way. Joyce Summers."
The cab driver pulls out, heading towards Boston proper.
" Sam Magee, Ma'am. Pleasure to meetcha. So, been a rough trip?" He asks politely
" You wouldn't believe, " Joyce complains. " My flight got delayed 4 hours in Chicago, because of weather, and it's been pure hell getting through the airport. This whole buying trip has been... horrible. At least, now I can relax a little. Taking a little respite in Boston before I have to head back home."
" Well, sorry to hear things haven't been so smooth, but you'll love Boston, ma'am. Lots to see and do here," Sam says agreeably. " So, where you hail from?"
" California. I'm a art dealer there, and I'm just finishing up my purchases for my gallery."
" So it's business, then?" Sam asks.
" Sort of. I mean, if I find something to purchase here, I will, but mostly I'm here to relax a little. Get away from things, wind back down."
" Well, I tell ya, if I were wanting to relax, I'd be heading home. I'm never quite relaxed when I'm away."
" I'm guessing you don't have children, then, " Joyce laughs. " Relaxing and two teenage daughters, just won't be happening."
Sam laughs. " Actually, I got four. Two boys, two girls. But yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes you wish you could run away from home!"
" So, Sam, is the Wyndham far?" Joyce sighs, weary from her travels.
" No ma'am. I'll have ya there in a jiffy." Sam negotiates traffic like he'd been doing it all his life. Which he has." Planning on doing a little sight seeing?"
" Later, but not right now. Right now, the only thing I want to see is the inside of my room, and the only thing I want to do is put my feet up !"
" Well, we'll have you there in two shakes," Sam vows, speeding up a little.
The cab pulls up in front of the Wyndham, and Sam is out of the car, popping the trunk and taking out the luggage. He places it on the curb for her, and Joyce pulls out her purse, paying the fare and giving him a generous tip. Sam smiles. " Thank you, Mrs. Summers." He pulls out a card, handing it to her. " You need to get anywhere in old Beantown here, you call and ask for Sam, hear?"
He starts to pick up the cases, but Joyce stops him. " I got it from here, Sam, thanks."
Sam nods, gives her a polite little salute, and hops in his cab, speeding away.
Joyce bends to pick up the cases, but a bellman at the hotel rushes up to assist her.
" Welcome to the Wyndham, ma'am. Let me help you with those." He grabs the two cases, leaving the carry-on for Joyce. Joyce straightens up, a little surprised. Ok, what happened? All of a sudden, everyone wants to help. Maybe my luck is starting to change. Yeah, sure, Joyce. Sure.
Joyce enters the hotel, gets registered and finally gets into her room. Plopping down on the bed, she kicks off her well broken-in heels, and rubs her feet. Sighing, she lays back on the bed, and stares at the ceiling, for the moment just enjoying the quiet.
Her mind drifts back to California, and her kids. I really wish they could've come with. I miss them. Wonder if they miss me? I dunno, teenage daughters, no mom to wreck their lives, living with a doting Great Aunt. Maybe I should call them? Naw … why ruin their fun? Anyway, with my luck Hank the Horrible will be there, and that would ruin any relaxation I'll get on my stopover in Boston. Well, that's it. No more work, or anything til I hit New York. For now, Joyce is on vacation… sort of.
Joyce settles back for a small nap. She wants to rest up before she conquers Boston.
2
" Heya, Leon, goin' to lunch, " Faith heads towards the elevators.
" Whoa up, Faith, " Leon, the Docent supervisor, stops her." I need you to take Lindsey's group."
" Hey, gimme a break here. Been leading people around all morning. This poor girl's bushed, you know? What's the deal with Lindsey, anyway?"
" She called in, family emergency." Leon says, shrugging
Yeah, I bet. As in, she got blotto with her boyo last night, and now is too woozy to make it into work.
" I had Maggie on it, but she's gotta go, and Bobbi will take over this afternoon. But I got one tour that's not covered. So, I need you to take it."
" C'mon, Leon. I'm dying here. I'm so hungry, I could eat the exhibits." Faith pleads with him.
" Faith, I really need you to do this. I mean, really, " Leon's tone gets a little cold. " Get me?"
Oh, I'm getting ya. You're too fucking lazy to lead the group yourself, so you're sticking me with it.
" Leon, I'm not so good on the Impressionists, you know. That's Lindsey's tour. I don't know them so well…" Faith still tries to wiggle out of it.
Leon snorts. " Gimme a break, ok, Faith? Like any of you guys know the first thing about art, period. You just learn the script, and show the tourists the pretty pictures. I got Lindsey's script here, so just go over it, get familiar and get out there. Keep to the tour, and you'll be fine." He hands the script to Faith. " You got 15 minutes to get ready. So…" he takes off before Faith can say anything else.
Faith sighs, and sits down, going over the script.
God, how'd I get into this crap, anyway?
Faith has been working at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Wing of the MFA for the last 2 years, ever since graduating from High School. Well, escaping anyway. Don't know how much I'd give for that piece of paper that says I graduated. She's not thinking of Art as a career. Ask her, and she'll tell you. She's not thinking of anything as a career. Frankly, she doesn't take anything too seriously in this life, and she's certainly not taking this job seriously. Too seriously.
Still she doesn't want to lose it. Not that it pays so great. It doesn't. But it does provide her with the three B's: Bed, board and booze. Mostly beer, though she doesn't mind an occasional bottle of Jack now and then. And this job beats out the alternatives: Fast food( grease pit city); public works( planting daisies in the park and scooping up the dog shit), or being a receptionist or hostess somewhere.
Nope, despite the fact that Leon was a lazy, bossy fat ass, this job was pretty sweet, and she wanted to hang onto it for awhile, at least. So, she studied the script, and when she felt not completely lost anymore; got up, straightened up, and went to meet the tour group. With 3 minutes to spare!
3
The Isabella Stewart Gardner wing of the Museum of Fine Art was named after a wealthy benefactress of the Museum. In design, it resembled a large Italian Villa, and the various "rooms" held collections donated by Mrs. Gardner and others. They were divided into classical, impressionist and modern sections. Faith usually worked as docent in the modern art section. Even though she wasn't particularly interested in art, she'd learned enough about her own collection to hold up under questions from the tour groups. But the Impressionists were foreign territory to her, and she was going to have to fake her way through it. Oh well, if I'm lucky, I'll get a group that's pretty green too. I'll just stick to the script and get them through it.
Faith walks through the employees only doors, and towards the group waiting for her.
Joyce Summers looks around the tour group, waiting a little impatiently to begin. This was one of the things she ' had' to see while in Boston. The reputation of the Isabella Gardner Stewart collection was well known in the art business. It was supposed to have one of the best collections of Impressionists in America, and she was anxious to get started. It's really too bad this is open by tour only. I'd really just like to take my time and really study the collection.
She isn't too impressed by the rest of her fellow ' tourists'. Mostly, it comprised of a local private school outing, chaperoned by a pair of obviously harried and oblivious teachers. The only other tour takers seemed to be a group of senior citizens. Ok, now I'm feeling really old. The only people on the impressionist tour… old folks and school kids. I'm beginning to think I'm totally out of date, even in art! A young woman, in her very early twenties came to the fore of the group, and Joyce realizes that this is the tour guide. The docent. God, would you look at her? She's barely older than Buffy. Ok, forget old. Now, I'm feeling ancient.
Faith takes one look at the group, and groans internally. Great. School group. Lots of questions, lots of having to run after them to keep them in the group … She cocks her head, noticing the older woman standing towards the back. Teacher? No, not wearing one of the school jackets. And definitely not with the Seniors. Hmmm.
" Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Faith McKerrigan, and I'll be your guide this afternoon through the tour. We are going to explore the 19th Century Impressionist movement, including one of the finest collections of French and European Impressionist paintings in America. I only ask that we all stay together as a group; that will increase the enjoyment of the exhibition for everyone. Please try not to stray off. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I hope you will enjoy your tour of the Isabella Stewart Gardner collection. Now, if you follow me, we'll begin."
Faith turns, and started leading the group through the entrance to the first hall.
Just as she feared, things didn't go smoothly. More than once she has to chase down students who decided that some of the dimmer corners of the Villa made excellent places to make out , or otherwise get into mischief. Not the most patient of people, Faith has to draw deeply on her reserve to keep a cool head, especially when the supposed ' chaperones' are nowhere to be found. That led to some amusement. And a bit of disgust on Faith's part when she found them.
On top of that, some of the seniors would dally by this painting or that, sometimes looking interested, more often confused. So, she has to move around constantly, trying to keep the seniors up with the group, and the school kids from wandering just about everywhere.
Needless to say, sticking to the script is hard. Fortunately, she has it on her clipboard, and is experienced enough to sneak peeks when no one is looking, to keep ahead.
Joyce follows along, feeling some empathy for the poor woman. She knows from experience how trying it can be with just two active teenagers, keeping them in check and in sight. She can see the strain on the girl's face, and her heart goes out to her. Poor thing, she must be ready to pop.
She also notes that while Ms. Mckerrigan tries to sound knowledgeable of the Impressionists, she's pretty much working from a script.
I wonder if she even knows anything about the Impressionists Or even if she bothers to come look at the paintings when she's not working. If I worked here, they couldn’t keep me away
However, Faith stays on top of it, using her wit, sharpness and sheer bravado, through most of the tour. It's not until near the end of the tour that disaster strikes, in the form of a painting not on her list.
The painting in question is one by James A.M. Whistler, a reproduction of his famous At the Piano. She's lost. She doesn't recognize the picture, and surreptitiously goes through the notes, only to realize that a page is missing. The page with the description of this Painting. Goddammit! What do I do now? Fake it, Faith. Won't be the first time.
"You know, this is one of my favorite paintings,"
Joyce speaks up, having noticed Faith's distress, " Whistler's At the Piano”.
She moves closer to Faith. " I believe it's a fine example of his style, wouldn't you agree?" She addresses Faith.
"Yes," the look of grateful relief floods over Faith's face, and she smiles at Joyce. " absolutely. But since you seem to be particularly knowledgeable of this work, would you like to share that with us?"
Joyce, nodding just a hair , holds forth on the painting, pointing out it's similarity to some of Manet's early works, noting that while Manet tended to be more about placement and light, Whistler's works went for an emotional mood. She also pointed out the influences of the Courbet on Whistler's earlier works, and the elements of the 17th century Dutch and Spanish schools. Even Faith, who isn't particularly impressed by anything is impressed by Joyce's depth of knowledge. By the end, the entire group claps, and Joyce, realizing she's put herself in the spotlight, blushes.
She looks around, and sees Faith staring at her with frank interest. What's she staring at? God, do I have like something in my teeth?
As she's making her way back to the group, Joyce feels her hands shake a little, and her stomach do jumping jacks. I wish she would stop staring at me! It's like she's undressing me!
" Thank you, for that informative talk on the Whistler painting" Faith grins, a little salaciously." Now, if you'd all follow me…"
Faith manages to get through the rest of the tour without incident, and as the others are leaving, goes over to Joyce, who is lingering by the last exhibit.
"Hey… er… I didn't get your name," Faith confesses.
"Joyce. Joyce Summers, Ms. McKerrigan," Joyce smiles at her.
"Joyce. Right. Nice name, " Faith says, " I just wanted to say thanks. You really saved my butt out there."
"Oh, piffle, "Joyce says, " You just lost your place in your notes. I'm sure you would've found it."
"No, actually , there was a page missing. I was gonna try to fake it, but boy, you really knew your stuff. You should be doing this," Faith says, then frowns. " No, wait, I wouldn't wish Leon on anyone. Not on someone like you."
What? Like me? What does she mean? Who's Leon?
"Oh, my boss, and the snob assed overeducated docent supervisor for the museum…and did I mention, a total jerk?"
Joyce laughs, and shakes her head, " Sounds like a graduate student."
"I think so. Boston College. Certainly not Harvard," Faith laughs," trust me, he doesn't have the brains for Harvard!"
"Oh, yeah, I remember grad students. They so loved to lord it over the undergrads, at least when I went to college. You know, back in the Pleistocene era."
Faith makes a face," Oh, c'mon, you're not that old. You're what? 30? 31?"
Joyce can almost feel her ears burning. " You, Ms. McKerrigan, are a flatterer. A charming flatterer but still a flatterer."
"Of course, I can't totally hate Leon now. You kinda ruined that for me."
"I ruined that for you?" Joyce looks at her, puzzled.
"If not for him, I never would've met you…" Damn, I'm gonna have to start being nicer to him. Wait, no, I don't think so. I'll just buy him a box of candy… and only poison half of it.
The women stand there for a moment. Joyce is embarrassed, antsy and excited all at the same time. She doesn't have a clue what to make of it, but part of her is screaming ’ wrong, so wrong, run, run NOW!'. Joyce knows that voice and trusts it. It's kept her safe up to now.
"I really have to go now, Ms. McKerrigan" Joyce backs away, feeling trapped. She hits a railing, and makes a little noise.
Faith catches up to her. She takes Joyce's hand in both of hers. " Faith. Please, call me Faith."
"Faith, then, " Joyce smiles, but is intently aware of Faith's hands on her. She withdraws her hand as quickly as she can without being rude. " It was nice meeting you." Joyce starts to turn to go.
"Uhhh… Joyce?" Faith moves around , trying to get back in front of her, " I was wondering. I have my lunch break coming up, and I was … well, hoping you'd let me buy you lunch. Because of what you did. Please?" It suddenly becomes very important to Faith that she not lose contact with this woman. " I mean, maybe we could talk some more about that art junk, you know?" Ok, this isn't working. Go for broke, Faith… " Look, I like you, Joyce. Really like you. I want to get to know you better. So, if that's cool, please, have lunch with me, ok?"
Joyce is feeling majorly wigged. And a little crowded. " I appreciate it, but I really don’t know you that well, and frankly? Not really feeling up to being sociable. I don't mean to be rude, but I've had a heck of a day, and I only came here today because I wanted to be sure I got it in before I left Boston. But thank you for the offer."
"That's the point. To get to know each other. I really want to get to know you, Joyce, " Faith is almost sounding desperate. " I've never met anyone like you, and I like what I'm seeing. And I want to see you more…"
"Faith, again, thank you. but really, I just can't. I hope you understand, but I really can't have lunch with you. You seem like a nice girl, but … I'm sorry, I have to go now," Joyce, feeling anxious, doesn't wait for an answer, but leaves.
"Wait… Joyce… wait!" Faith calls out, running after her, " please, I'm sorry, I was rude… I didn't mean it. Don't run away, please."
Joyce stops, and turns around. Her face has an angry expression on it. She waits for Faith to catch up.
"Ms. McKerrigan," Joyce's words are clipped and precise. " You meant exactly what you said. I'm sorry, but if I wasn't clear, I'm really not interested.
I wouldn't put up with that if a man did it to me, so do you think I should because you did it to me? I don't think it was either proper, or very nice. Good day, "
Joyce goes to turn, and then turns back, " And I think it better you call me Mrs. Summers from now on." She turns and leaves without looking back.
Faith watches her hurry away, and stands there, dazed and upset. Gee, what? Did I like try to attack her or something? Why'd she get so mad?
C'mon, Faith, do you really need to ask? Are you that stupid? You came on to her, pushed her against a wall, practically. Geeze, the only thing you didn't do was to rip the clothes off her ! She was right. You came on like a crude drunken sailor. What the hell did you expect her to do? Lay down and spread her legs?
Stupid, Faith. Totally stupid! Dumb, stupid and moronic. You blew it, big time. You're NEVER gonna see her again.
Idiot!
Faith shakes her head, and walks away.
4
"Smooth, Joyce, really smooth, " Joyce chides herself as she walks back to her hotel.
She decided to forgo a cab, because she wanted the air. And she wanted to think. And cool off.
At first, Joyce is totally angry. God, what the hell did that young woman think? I was some kind of desperate woman cruising for a date? And hey, there's the whole I'm not a lesbian, or even close! God, I've never felt so… dirty in my life! Never mind, insulted. Thinking I was so needy I'd go cruising for a kid in a museum! God, what kind of person does she think I am?
Uhhh… Joyce? Did you figure maybe she didn't know what kind of person that you were? That maybe she wanted to FIND OUT what kind of person you were? Think about it? Did she try to maul you? Did she come on to you, really? I mean, somewhere out of your gutter dwelling mind, that is? She asked you to lunch. Said she liked you. Geeze, and that's terrible…because…? Yeah, go ahead smarty, what's the answer? What's so terrible? Sure, she was flirting with you. But so what? You didn't even give her the courtesy to tell her you're not interested in her, that way. No, instead you treat her like Buffy when she comes home late from a date. " Your in trouble, young lady. Get to your room, you're grounded for a week." God, Joyce, that's just so…mom!
And if you want to admit it, Joyce, it was nice to be noticed, wasn't it? Kind of nice to be paid attention to, not being ignored like Hank the Horrible would do. She actually treated you like a person. Not a 'wife', not a 'mom'( ok, being mom? Not bad, but still), but as a person. Someone who actually matters more than just being sure the house runs smoothly. Someone who actually was more than a Wife and Mom. Now, how was that terrible? And, did she actually do anything that led you to think she wanted more than lunch? I mean, really?
Geeze, Joyce. Get a grip. Maybe you should just relax, and invite her to lunch, and be done with it. Yeah, ok, that's a plan. let's do that. Yeah, A perfectly safe, neutral lunch. You eat, you talk a little, and then it's over. Anyway, what's the deal? By tomorrow, she will have forgotten all about the incident, and hey, I will too.
Joyce, however, doesn't keep her word. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she thinks about the young girl, and what happened at the museum.
What was her name again? Faith? Yeah, that's it. Faith. God, she must think I'm a nut case. Or a loon. Definitely, loon. Why did I react like that? I mean, what did I think would happen? Am I that burnt out over the divorce that I'm starting to imagine things? About perfect strangers? Why did that happen? I mean, I didn't freak on Sam… the cab driver, and he's more my type. Meaning male. But still… Ok, this has gone beyond weird, Joyce. Any moment, Rod Serling's going to pop out of the closet, and tell you you've entered the twilight zone. Geeze, get a grip!
However, try as she might, the incident, and the attendant strangeness won't go away.
Ok, this is just stupid. Here's what I'm going to do. Tomorrow, I'll go back to the Museum around lunch time, ask her to lunch. That way, we do it, get it over with, and it's out of my mind. God, I can't believe I'm acted like that. I'm an adult, for god's sake, pushing 40. Yet, I'm, acting like a schoolgirl or something.
I've got to be a total idiot!
5
Faith was just leaving for lunch, still kicking herself over yesterday. What was I thinking? Am I a kid, or what? I might as well have said, "come on, baby, let's fuck!" When the hell did I grow a dick and start thinking with it?
She looks across the street, and stops dead in her tracks. Stand there, holding a bag, was Joyce. Looking uncertain. Looking apologetic. God, looking hot!
Joyce had dressed more casually, wearing a blazer, pink button down oxford shirt, jeans and boots. Man, can you say sexy?
Ok, Faith, get a grip? What's she doing here? I thought after yesterday, I'd never see her again! I swear she wanted to slap me. Not like I didn't deserve it.
Faith makes her way across the street, and comes up to Joyce, who at the moment happens to be looking away.
"Hey," Faith says, from behind her.
Joyce jumps a little, and turns around.
"Wow, you scared me!" Joyce says, a trace of irritation in her tone.
"Yeah, I got that affect on lots of women," Faith winks. " Like yesterday. I really came on strong. Ok, I was a dick, ok? And hey, I'm really sorry. I would've told you that, if you hadn't run off so fast."
Joyce's cheeks go pink, and Faith smirks. Nice. Really nice!
"Yeah, about that. Look, things have been kind of crazy lately, and … well… I just … oh I don't know, I acted crazy, ok? I took it all wrong, and over-reacted. I'm sorry. I wanted to come by, and see if maybe we could have that lunch?" She shakes the bag. "What do you think?" She opens the bag, and shows the contents. "Hoagies, really nice. And coffee… and stuff… so?"
"Gee, don't know, Joyce, "Faith grins. "Sure you won't like freak out, rip the sandwich from my mouth and take off again?"
"Ok, ok, I deserve that, "Joyce says ruefully, "Just, say yes, ok?"
"Yes, ok, "Faith teases her. She looks at the bag" Oooo, Barneys. You really did it right, didn't you? How'd you know about Barney's?" In Faith's opinion, Barney's makes the best Hoagies, anywhere, ever.
"I asked the concierge. He told me."
"Good man, "Faith grins, "Well, this'll be nice, having lunch with you. Been a long time since I've had lunch with an attractive woman."
Joyce almost drops the bag, and blushes deep red. Ok, no mistaking that comment.
"You know you're an attractive woman, don't you, Joyce?" Faith says, openly flirting with her. Casually, she takes Joyce's arm and leads her deeper into the little garden park. "C'mon, I know a nice little spot."
Joyce allows herself to be led, and they find a little spot near a pond with a bridge. They sit on the bench, Joyce placing the bag between them. A little safety never hurts..
For awhile, they don't say anything as they munch on the sandwiches. Joyce, for her part, is a little taken aback at the younger woman's brashness.
Ok, I know I've been out of circulation for a long time, but I recognize a full court flirt when I see one. And she was flirting with me. Wasn't she? Oh, c'mon, old girl, don't get so full of yourself. She was probably just trying to be friendly. Anyway, if she flirts a little, so what? Not like I'm going to see her after today. Just relax, girl. Enjoy, for once. Nice not to be treated like a chair, you know?
"So, ummm… Faith, you're from Boston, then?" Joyce finally breaks the silence, trying to lighten things up a little.
"Yeah. Really good thing too. Hate to be from say, oh, Atlanta. The commute would be killer, "Faith chuckles."
"Very funny, Faith. I mean, you were born here?"
"Oh, yeah. Born and bred. South Boston.
"Oh, ok, "Joyce says, not really knowing where that is.'
"You ever see the movie Good Will Hunting ?" Faith asks.
"Yeah, sure. Matt Damon, Ben Afleck, Robin Williams."
"Then you've seen South Boston. Part of it, anyway. It was shot there."
"Really? I didn't know that. Imagine!"
"Don't have to, if you've seen the movie, "Faith says, taking it literally. "Pretty cool that the Southie was totally a genius. One up on those snobby guys, fer sure. "She looks at Joyce, "So, where you from?"
"California. I live there, with my children."
"You got kids?" Faith looks amazed.
"Well, yes, two girls. Dawn, 15, and Buffy, almost 18."
You're shitting me! When did you have them, like, when you were 13?"
Joyce laughs. "Now you're being silly. I'm 39, Faith. Almost forty!"
"No way! No WAY! You're shitting me now, I know it. You look like 30!"
"Well, thank you, "Joyce blushes, "And if you want to think I'm 30, I won't argue with you."
Faith feels a bit of disappointment. Damn! The good ones are always straight, and married. Drag!
"So, I'm guessing you're like here with the kids and Hubby?"
"No hubby," Joyce says, a slight bitter edge in her voice. "Ex-hubby. And no, I'm here alone. Kids are back home, in school. Wish I could've brought them along. I really miss them!"
"Oh, so you're divorced?" YES! " I'm sorry to hear that!" Like hell I'm sorry!
"It's for the best, know what I mean? We've been kind of drifting apart for the last 10 years. And Hank …" Joyce goes quiet. She gets a sad-angry look on her face.
"What? What's wrong?" Faith asks.
"Just… damn… I caught him cheating on me. I guess that explains the not being home…EVER!"
"Oh, man, that so sucks!" Not for me. Oh, it so don't suck for me! " Bastard!"
"Maybe that's why he was playing around. I never wanted to … "Joyce blushes pink." … you know." She says in a small voice.
"Huh?" Faith looks at her. What the … never? Oh my god!
"Yeah, I just couldn't get the idea of putting it in my mouth… kinda ick, if you think about it."
Faith shrugs. Oh, I agree, baby. Me and cocks? So not simpatico!
"So, maybe he went looking for someone who would. Maybe this was my fault…"
"Ok, that's bogus. If the guy hinges your marriage on you sucking his cock, he's totally a prick, you know?"
Joyce just blushes and goes quiet.
"Hey, sorry. Look I don't know… I'm just going by what you tell me here. "Shit, girl, don't fuck this up before it even gets going!
"No, actually, I was thinking about it, and all the crap he gave me?" Joyce looks at Faith, " and you're right. He is a total prick!" Joyce blushes. " Oh god, did I just say that out loud?"
"Oh yeah, you did, "Faith nods, " but don't worry, he sounds like a real dick."
"Oh, he is, he really is, " Joyce laughs. " Wow, that's the first time I've been able to laugh about it, ever."
"Well, I hope he got the lil cocksucker he so richly deserves. Letting a fine woman like you go, " Faith says. They look at each other, and laugh.
"So, you're from California, huh?" Faith asks, after the laughter subsides." I always kinda wanted to go there. You know, like Matt Damon did, at the end of Good Will Hunting."
"Yeah, born and bred," Joyce smiles. " Los Angeles, actually."
"Whoa. L.A. totally cool!"
"Sure. If you forget about the smog, and traffic, and the general hassle. Yeah, I suppose it's cool."
"I bet it's pretty. And warm. Damn, I'm so damned tired of freezing my ass off in these Boston winters!"
"Yeah, that'd be a shame, " Joyce deadpans.
"What?" Faith looks puzzled.
"Your ass dropping off, frozen," Joyce chuckles.
Faith looks at her, and laughs heartily.
"God, I like you. You're … weird, but good weird, get it?"
"I'm weird?" Joyce looks at Faith. " Who's the one working as a docent at an art museum, and doesn't know squat about art? Isn't that just a little weird?"
Damn, busted!
"Hey, I know stuff. Just not about a bunch of old painter dudes, " Faith catches Joyce's look. " I do! I know… I know… what I like!"
Joyce starts laughing. She looks at Faith, and laughs harder. Faith starts to get offended, then she catches the laugh, and soon both are at it, laughing like idiots.
"I … I … guess It's ok … as long… as you don't tell me… you like… the dogs playing …poker…" Joyce gets out between laughs.
"Oh…Damn!… I thought… that's…so cool" Faith laughs along with her.
Faith looks at her watch, and her laughter dies. " Oh crap!"
"Huh?"
"I'm late! Gotta get back to work, " Faith pops up. " Hey, can we like…look, if you won't freak, can we like… do dinner? Maybe a movie or somethin?"
Joyce looks at Faith. She's a little nervous. She's having a great time. And she likes this girl. Really likes her. But … what the hell do we have in common? I'm old enough to be her mom!
"Look, Faith, " Joyce says, " This was very nice. But… really, I don't think I really want more." She looks at Faith, and smiles," It… well, it's just not my thing."
"Your thing?" Faith cocks her head." For Christ's sake, Joyce. I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to see you again. Have dinner. A couple of chuckles. You're a funny lady. I like you. Emphasize, like. Friends. Is that so bad?"
"No, but…" Joyce stalls, not sure where this is going, and whether she wants to go along for the ride.
"Aw, c'mon, don't think about it!" Faith says, getting a little antsy, " just say yes!"
Oh, what the hell? It's just dinner. Nothing's going to happen!
"Ok, yes!" Joyce says. " Should I like pick you up here?"
"Er… no…really, I'd kinda like to go home and shower and change beforehand. So… where you staying?"
"Wyndham Hotel, downtown. Do you know where it is? I could meet you back here, if that'd be easier."
"Naw, I know where the Wyndham is, " Faith says, waving her hand, " I worked there for awhile. Didn't work out."
"Ok, my hotel then. What time?"
"Well, after I get off work, and go home, and get ready… let's say … oh… around 7?"
"Ok, 7 it is. See you tonight." Joyce stands up, grabbing the basket.
"Cool beans. Seeya!" Faith takes off, a little jaunty bounce in her walk.
Joyce watches her walk away, and she can't help feeling she might have made a mistake. Or maybe not.
Feeling confused, she hails a cab to take her back to her hotel.
A few hours later, Joyce is in her room, checking her look in the mirror. Ok, god, let's see. I don't think it's too momish… god, what am I thinking? This is just a casual dinner among friends. Friends. That's so weird. I've known the girl like, 2 hours max, and I feel like she's a friend. Gaaah, stop thinking so much. She turns back to the mirror.
She's wearing a basic black backless cocktail dress, heels and a pearl necklace. Too much? Hell, I don't know. I don't know where we're going Oh, screw it. If she doesn't like it, too darned bad! I've already spent two hours trying on different looks. This goes with anything.
The phone by her bed rings, and Joyce walks over to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Yes, Mrs. Summers? This is the concierge. There's a young lady down here. She says she's here to meet up with you?"
"Yes, that's correct. Please tell her I'll be down in a few minutes"
"Very good, Mrs. Summers."
"Thank you. Goodbye."
Joyce sets down the phone, and goes to the closet, retrieving her coat. Picking her purse up off the bed, she heads for the door.
She pauses before opening it. Somehow, she has a feeling, things are going to change. Change a lot.
She's not sure how she feels about that. It makes her nervous. It frankly, scares her a little.
But maybe, it's what I need. Maybe I need shaking up.
Oh, god, Joyce. It's dinner. Don't be an ass! Nothing's going to happen!
You're such a … mom!
Opening the door, she walks through and closes it behind her.
To be continued
Feedback: yes
Pairing: Joyce/Faith
A/N This is A/U folks. meaning. Dawn is alive, Everyones Human, it takes place pre- sunnydale, and joyce gets her freak on with a young hot chick. though it's not fuffy hope you give it a chance anyway
1
"TAXI!"
Joyce waves desperately for a cab, hoping against hope one will stop. It's particularly hard when carrying two suitcases and a carry-on on your shoulder.
It's going to be one of those days, I just know it, Joyce thinks as cab's whiz by, not seeming to pay attention to her. Why should today be any different from yesterday, or the day before, or before that? Hell, it's been one of those years!
Joyce's life has not been going well, lately. She's been going through a particularly nasty divorce with her husband, Hank. Hank the Horrible, as she's coming to think of him lately, has been fighting her on everything. Custody, alimony and child support, division of assets - it's as if Joyce had been cheating on him, rather than vice versa. At least that's the way he's acting. Never mind he's been neglecting me and the kids for ... what's her face? Sheila? Selena? Oh, who gives a damn. It's just the latest little tart in his collection, and now that I'm calling him on it, he's acting like a kid. He wants it all, but for the last 10 years? Not really been there.
She went on this art buying trip to get away from Hank the Horrible and his petty games. She'd wanted to bring her two daughters, Dawn and Buffy, along; she thought the we'll get away aspect, the traveling and seeing different places might have been fun. But they had school, and that's just what she'd need: Hank having an excuse to yank them away from her. So, she left them with her Aunt, and came alone.
Maybe just as well. Not like this trip has been a pleasure cruise. Anything that could go wrong, went wrong. Delays, airport hassles, problems with the dealers, ... arrgh, I swear that someone up there hates me. Now, at last, I get a chance to just relax for a little bit, see some of Boston? And the plane is late leaving Chicago because of weather. Then, I get here, and I have to wait two hours while the idiots that unload the plane try to find my bags. Oh, and they were already off and in the system! Why do they just keep hiring morons at the baggage claim counters? Now I can't even get a cab to my hotel. God, what ELSE can you do to me?
Joyce should be careful with those little challenges.
" TAXI!" She yells out again, dropping her bags so she can wave her arms, hoping to attract something. Finally, to her immense relief, a cab pulls over to the corner.
The driver jumps out of the cab, and pops the trunk, helping Joyce get her bags stowed away. He opens the door for her, then hops back in the cab.
" Welcome to Boston, ma'am." the driver calls from the front seat. " This is your first time here, right?"
" Yes, how did you know that?" Joyce asks, puzzled.
" Anyone that's been here once knows you can't grab a cab from the front entrance. You gotta go down to the stand located in the turnaround."
" Oh, " Joyce says, feeling 100 foolish. " You stopped, though."
" Yeah, well, I saw ya there, and figgered you wouldn't be getting a cab soon if ya didn't move... so I pulled up. Most times though, nobody will. You can get a ticket real fast there."
" Well, thank you and thank god for you. You're the first thing that's gone right today, " Joyce sighs, settling back in the seat.
" So, where can I take you today, ma'am?"
" Wyndham Hotel, downtown please," Joyce says. " And I'm Joyce, by the way. Joyce Summers."
The cab driver pulls out, heading towards Boston proper.
" Sam Magee, Ma'am. Pleasure to meetcha. So, been a rough trip?" He asks politely
" You wouldn't believe, " Joyce complains. " My flight got delayed 4 hours in Chicago, because of weather, and it's been pure hell getting through the airport. This whole buying trip has been... horrible. At least, now I can relax a little. Taking a little respite in Boston before I have to head back home."
" Well, sorry to hear things haven't been so smooth, but you'll love Boston, ma'am. Lots to see and do here," Sam says agreeably. " So, where you hail from?"
" California. I'm a art dealer there, and I'm just finishing up my purchases for my gallery."
" So it's business, then?" Sam asks.
" Sort of. I mean, if I find something to purchase here, I will, but mostly I'm here to relax a little. Get away from things, wind back down."
" Well, I tell ya, if I were wanting to relax, I'd be heading home. I'm never quite relaxed when I'm away."
" I'm guessing you don't have children, then, " Joyce laughs. " Relaxing and two teenage daughters, just won't be happening."
Sam laughs. " Actually, I got four. Two boys, two girls. But yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes you wish you could run away from home!"
" So, Sam, is the Wyndham far?" Joyce sighs, weary from her travels.
" No ma'am. I'll have ya there in a jiffy." Sam negotiates traffic like he'd been doing it all his life. Which he has." Planning on doing a little sight seeing?"
" Later, but not right now. Right now, the only thing I want to see is the inside of my room, and the only thing I want to do is put my feet up !"
" Well, we'll have you there in two shakes," Sam vows, speeding up a little.
The cab pulls up in front of the Wyndham, and Sam is out of the car, popping the trunk and taking out the luggage. He places it on the curb for her, and Joyce pulls out her purse, paying the fare and giving him a generous tip. Sam smiles. " Thank you, Mrs. Summers." He pulls out a card, handing it to her. " You need to get anywhere in old Beantown here, you call and ask for Sam, hear?"
He starts to pick up the cases, but Joyce stops him. " I got it from here, Sam, thanks."
Sam nods, gives her a polite little salute, and hops in his cab, speeding away.
Joyce bends to pick up the cases, but a bellman at the hotel rushes up to assist her.
" Welcome to the Wyndham, ma'am. Let me help you with those." He grabs the two cases, leaving the carry-on for Joyce. Joyce straightens up, a little surprised. Ok, what happened? All of a sudden, everyone wants to help. Maybe my luck is starting to change. Yeah, sure, Joyce. Sure.
Joyce enters the hotel, gets registered and finally gets into her room. Plopping down on the bed, she kicks off her well broken-in heels, and rubs her feet. Sighing, she lays back on the bed, and stares at the ceiling, for the moment just enjoying the quiet.
Her mind drifts back to California, and her kids. I really wish they could've come with. I miss them. Wonder if they miss me? I dunno, teenage daughters, no mom to wreck their lives, living with a doting Great Aunt. Maybe I should call them? Naw … why ruin their fun? Anyway, with my luck Hank the Horrible will be there, and that would ruin any relaxation I'll get on my stopover in Boston. Well, that's it. No more work, or anything til I hit New York. For now, Joyce is on vacation… sort of.
Joyce settles back for a small nap. She wants to rest up before she conquers Boston.
2
" Heya, Leon, goin' to lunch, " Faith heads towards the elevators.
" Whoa up, Faith, " Leon, the Docent supervisor, stops her." I need you to take Lindsey's group."
" Hey, gimme a break here. Been leading people around all morning. This poor girl's bushed, you know? What's the deal with Lindsey, anyway?"
" She called in, family emergency." Leon says, shrugging
Yeah, I bet. As in, she got blotto with her boyo last night, and now is too woozy to make it into work.
" I had Maggie on it, but she's gotta go, and Bobbi will take over this afternoon. But I got one tour that's not covered. So, I need you to take it."
" C'mon, Leon. I'm dying here. I'm so hungry, I could eat the exhibits." Faith pleads with him.
" Faith, I really need you to do this. I mean, really, " Leon's tone gets a little cold. " Get me?"
Oh, I'm getting ya. You're too fucking lazy to lead the group yourself, so you're sticking me with it.
" Leon, I'm not so good on the Impressionists, you know. That's Lindsey's tour. I don't know them so well…" Faith still tries to wiggle out of it.
Leon snorts. " Gimme a break, ok, Faith? Like any of you guys know the first thing about art, period. You just learn the script, and show the tourists the pretty pictures. I got Lindsey's script here, so just go over it, get familiar and get out there. Keep to the tour, and you'll be fine." He hands the script to Faith. " You got 15 minutes to get ready. So…" he takes off before Faith can say anything else.
Faith sighs, and sits down, going over the script.
God, how'd I get into this crap, anyway?
Faith has been working at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Wing of the MFA for the last 2 years, ever since graduating from High School. Well, escaping anyway. Don't know how much I'd give for that piece of paper that says I graduated. She's not thinking of Art as a career. Ask her, and she'll tell you. She's not thinking of anything as a career. Frankly, she doesn't take anything too seriously in this life, and she's certainly not taking this job seriously. Too seriously.
Still she doesn't want to lose it. Not that it pays so great. It doesn't. But it does provide her with the three B's: Bed, board and booze. Mostly beer, though she doesn't mind an occasional bottle of Jack now and then. And this job beats out the alternatives: Fast food( grease pit city); public works( planting daisies in the park and scooping up the dog shit), or being a receptionist or hostess somewhere.
Nope, despite the fact that Leon was a lazy, bossy fat ass, this job was pretty sweet, and she wanted to hang onto it for awhile, at least. So, she studied the script, and when she felt not completely lost anymore; got up, straightened up, and went to meet the tour group. With 3 minutes to spare!
3
The Isabella Stewart Gardner wing of the Museum of Fine Art was named after a wealthy benefactress of the Museum. In design, it resembled a large Italian Villa, and the various "rooms" held collections donated by Mrs. Gardner and others. They were divided into classical, impressionist and modern sections. Faith usually worked as docent in the modern art section. Even though she wasn't particularly interested in art, she'd learned enough about her own collection to hold up under questions from the tour groups. But the Impressionists were foreign territory to her, and she was going to have to fake her way through it. Oh well, if I'm lucky, I'll get a group that's pretty green too. I'll just stick to the script and get them through it.
Faith walks through the employees only doors, and towards the group waiting for her.
Joyce Summers looks around the tour group, waiting a little impatiently to begin. This was one of the things she ' had' to see while in Boston. The reputation of the Isabella Gardner Stewart collection was well known in the art business. It was supposed to have one of the best collections of Impressionists in America, and she was anxious to get started. It's really too bad this is open by tour only. I'd really just like to take my time and really study the collection.
She isn't too impressed by the rest of her fellow ' tourists'. Mostly, it comprised of a local private school outing, chaperoned by a pair of obviously harried and oblivious teachers. The only other tour takers seemed to be a group of senior citizens. Ok, now I'm feeling really old. The only people on the impressionist tour… old folks and school kids. I'm beginning to think I'm totally out of date, even in art! A young woman, in her very early twenties came to the fore of the group, and Joyce realizes that this is the tour guide. The docent. God, would you look at her? She's barely older than Buffy. Ok, forget old. Now, I'm feeling ancient.
Faith takes one look at the group, and groans internally. Great. School group. Lots of questions, lots of having to run after them to keep them in the group … She cocks her head, noticing the older woman standing towards the back. Teacher? No, not wearing one of the school jackets. And definitely not with the Seniors. Hmmm.
" Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen. My name is Faith McKerrigan, and I'll be your guide this afternoon through the tour. We are going to explore the 19th Century Impressionist movement, including one of the finest collections of French and European Impressionist paintings in America. I only ask that we all stay together as a group; that will increase the enjoyment of the exhibition for everyone. Please try not to stray off. If you have any questions, feel free to ask, I hope you will enjoy your tour of the Isabella Stewart Gardner collection. Now, if you follow me, we'll begin."
Faith turns, and started leading the group through the entrance to the first hall.
Just as she feared, things didn't go smoothly. More than once she has to chase down students who decided that some of the dimmer corners of the Villa made excellent places to make out , or otherwise get into mischief. Not the most patient of people, Faith has to draw deeply on her reserve to keep a cool head, especially when the supposed ' chaperones' are nowhere to be found. That led to some amusement. And a bit of disgust on Faith's part when she found them.
On top of that, some of the seniors would dally by this painting or that, sometimes looking interested, more often confused. So, she has to move around constantly, trying to keep the seniors up with the group, and the school kids from wandering just about everywhere.
Needless to say, sticking to the script is hard. Fortunately, she has it on her clipboard, and is experienced enough to sneak peeks when no one is looking, to keep ahead.
Joyce follows along, feeling some empathy for the poor woman. She knows from experience how trying it can be with just two active teenagers, keeping them in check and in sight. She can see the strain on the girl's face, and her heart goes out to her. Poor thing, she must be ready to pop.
She also notes that while Ms. Mckerrigan tries to sound knowledgeable of the Impressionists, she's pretty much working from a script.
I wonder if she even knows anything about the Impressionists Or even if she bothers to come look at the paintings when she's not working. If I worked here, they couldn’t keep me away
However, Faith stays on top of it, using her wit, sharpness and sheer bravado, through most of the tour. It's not until near the end of the tour that disaster strikes, in the form of a painting not on her list.
The painting in question is one by James A.M. Whistler, a reproduction of his famous At the Piano. She's lost. She doesn't recognize the picture, and surreptitiously goes through the notes, only to realize that a page is missing. The page with the description of this Painting. Goddammit! What do I do now? Fake it, Faith. Won't be the first time.
"You know, this is one of my favorite paintings,"
Joyce speaks up, having noticed Faith's distress, " Whistler's At the Piano”.
She moves closer to Faith. " I believe it's a fine example of his style, wouldn't you agree?" She addresses Faith.
"Yes," the look of grateful relief floods over Faith's face, and she smiles at Joyce. " absolutely. But since you seem to be particularly knowledgeable of this work, would you like to share that with us?"
Joyce, nodding just a hair , holds forth on the painting, pointing out it's similarity to some of Manet's early works, noting that while Manet tended to be more about placement and light, Whistler's works went for an emotional mood. She also pointed out the influences of the Courbet on Whistler's earlier works, and the elements of the 17th century Dutch and Spanish schools. Even Faith, who isn't particularly impressed by anything is impressed by Joyce's depth of knowledge. By the end, the entire group claps, and Joyce, realizing she's put herself in the spotlight, blushes.
She looks around, and sees Faith staring at her with frank interest. What's she staring at? God, do I have like something in my teeth?
As she's making her way back to the group, Joyce feels her hands shake a little, and her stomach do jumping jacks. I wish she would stop staring at me! It's like she's undressing me!
" Thank you, for that informative talk on the Whistler painting" Faith grins, a little salaciously." Now, if you'd all follow me…"
Faith manages to get through the rest of the tour without incident, and as the others are leaving, goes over to Joyce, who is lingering by the last exhibit.
"Hey… er… I didn't get your name," Faith confesses.
"Joyce. Joyce Summers, Ms. McKerrigan," Joyce smiles at her.
"Joyce. Right. Nice name, " Faith says, " I just wanted to say thanks. You really saved my butt out there."
"Oh, piffle, "Joyce says, " You just lost your place in your notes. I'm sure you would've found it."
"No, actually , there was a page missing. I was gonna try to fake it, but boy, you really knew your stuff. You should be doing this," Faith says, then frowns. " No, wait, I wouldn't wish Leon on anyone. Not on someone like you."
What? Like me? What does she mean? Who's Leon?
"Oh, my boss, and the snob assed overeducated docent supervisor for the museum…and did I mention, a total jerk?"
Joyce laughs, and shakes her head, " Sounds like a graduate student."
"I think so. Boston College. Certainly not Harvard," Faith laughs," trust me, he doesn't have the brains for Harvard!"
"Oh, yeah, I remember grad students. They so loved to lord it over the undergrads, at least when I went to college. You know, back in the Pleistocene era."
Faith makes a face," Oh, c'mon, you're not that old. You're what? 30? 31?"
Joyce can almost feel her ears burning. " You, Ms. McKerrigan, are a flatterer. A charming flatterer but still a flatterer."
"Of course, I can't totally hate Leon now. You kinda ruined that for me."
"I ruined that for you?" Joyce looks at her, puzzled.
"If not for him, I never would've met you…" Damn, I'm gonna have to start being nicer to him. Wait, no, I don't think so. I'll just buy him a box of candy… and only poison half of it.
The women stand there for a moment. Joyce is embarrassed, antsy and excited all at the same time. She doesn't have a clue what to make of it, but part of her is screaming ’ wrong, so wrong, run, run NOW!'. Joyce knows that voice and trusts it. It's kept her safe up to now.
"I really have to go now, Ms. McKerrigan" Joyce backs away, feeling trapped. She hits a railing, and makes a little noise.
Faith catches up to her. She takes Joyce's hand in both of hers. " Faith. Please, call me Faith."
"Faith, then, " Joyce smiles, but is intently aware of Faith's hands on her. She withdraws her hand as quickly as she can without being rude. " It was nice meeting you." Joyce starts to turn to go.
"Uhhh… Joyce?" Faith moves around , trying to get back in front of her, " I was wondering. I have my lunch break coming up, and I was … well, hoping you'd let me buy you lunch. Because of what you did. Please?" It suddenly becomes very important to Faith that she not lose contact with this woman. " I mean, maybe we could talk some more about that art junk, you know?" Ok, this isn't working. Go for broke, Faith… " Look, I like you, Joyce. Really like you. I want to get to know you better. So, if that's cool, please, have lunch with me, ok?"
Joyce is feeling majorly wigged. And a little crowded. " I appreciate it, but I really don’t know you that well, and frankly? Not really feeling up to being sociable. I don't mean to be rude, but I've had a heck of a day, and I only came here today because I wanted to be sure I got it in before I left Boston. But thank you for the offer."
"That's the point. To get to know each other. I really want to get to know you, Joyce, " Faith is almost sounding desperate. " I've never met anyone like you, and I like what I'm seeing. And I want to see you more…"
"Faith, again, thank you. but really, I just can't. I hope you understand, but I really can't have lunch with you. You seem like a nice girl, but … I'm sorry, I have to go now," Joyce, feeling anxious, doesn't wait for an answer, but leaves.
"Wait… Joyce… wait!" Faith calls out, running after her, " please, I'm sorry, I was rude… I didn't mean it. Don't run away, please."
Joyce stops, and turns around. Her face has an angry expression on it. She waits for Faith to catch up.
"Ms. McKerrigan," Joyce's words are clipped and precise. " You meant exactly what you said. I'm sorry, but if I wasn't clear, I'm really not interested.
I wouldn't put up with that if a man did it to me, so do you think I should because you did it to me? I don't think it was either proper, or very nice. Good day, "
Joyce goes to turn, and then turns back, " And I think it better you call me Mrs. Summers from now on." She turns and leaves without looking back.
Faith watches her hurry away, and stands there, dazed and upset. Gee, what? Did I like try to attack her or something? Why'd she get so mad?
C'mon, Faith, do you really need to ask? Are you that stupid? You came on to her, pushed her against a wall, practically. Geeze, the only thing you didn't do was to rip the clothes off her ! She was right. You came on like a crude drunken sailor. What the hell did you expect her to do? Lay down and spread her legs?
Stupid, Faith. Totally stupid! Dumb, stupid and moronic. You blew it, big time. You're NEVER gonna see her again.
Idiot!
Faith shakes her head, and walks away.
4
"Smooth, Joyce, really smooth, " Joyce chides herself as she walks back to her hotel.
She decided to forgo a cab, because she wanted the air. And she wanted to think. And cool off.
At first, Joyce is totally angry. God, what the hell did that young woman think? I was some kind of desperate woman cruising for a date? And hey, there's the whole I'm not a lesbian, or even close! God, I've never felt so… dirty in my life! Never mind, insulted. Thinking I was so needy I'd go cruising for a kid in a museum! God, what kind of person does she think I am?
Uhhh… Joyce? Did you figure maybe she didn't know what kind of person that you were? That maybe she wanted to FIND OUT what kind of person you were? Think about it? Did she try to maul you? Did she come on to you, really? I mean, somewhere out of your gutter dwelling mind, that is? She asked you to lunch. Said she liked you. Geeze, and that's terrible…because…? Yeah, go ahead smarty, what's the answer? What's so terrible? Sure, she was flirting with you. But so what? You didn't even give her the courtesy to tell her you're not interested in her, that way. No, instead you treat her like Buffy when she comes home late from a date. " Your in trouble, young lady. Get to your room, you're grounded for a week." God, Joyce, that's just so…mom!
And if you want to admit it, Joyce, it was nice to be noticed, wasn't it? Kind of nice to be paid attention to, not being ignored like Hank the Horrible would do. She actually treated you like a person. Not a 'wife', not a 'mom'( ok, being mom? Not bad, but still), but as a person. Someone who actually matters more than just being sure the house runs smoothly. Someone who actually was more than a Wife and Mom. Now, how was that terrible? And, did she actually do anything that led you to think she wanted more than lunch? I mean, really?
Geeze, Joyce. Get a grip. Maybe you should just relax, and invite her to lunch, and be done with it. Yeah, ok, that's a plan. let's do that. Yeah, A perfectly safe, neutral lunch. You eat, you talk a little, and then it's over. Anyway, what's the deal? By tomorrow, she will have forgotten all about the incident, and hey, I will too.
Joyce, however, doesn't keep her word. For the rest of the afternoon and evening, she thinks about the young girl, and what happened at the museum.
What was her name again? Faith? Yeah, that's it. Faith. God, she must think I'm a nut case. Or a loon. Definitely, loon. Why did I react like that? I mean, what did I think would happen? Am I that burnt out over the divorce that I'm starting to imagine things? About perfect strangers? Why did that happen? I mean, I didn't freak on Sam… the cab driver, and he's more my type. Meaning male. But still… Ok, this has gone beyond weird, Joyce. Any moment, Rod Serling's going to pop out of the closet, and tell you you've entered the twilight zone. Geeze, get a grip!
However, try as she might, the incident, and the attendant strangeness won't go away.
Ok, this is just stupid. Here's what I'm going to do. Tomorrow, I'll go back to the Museum around lunch time, ask her to lunch. That way, we do it, get it over with, and it's out of my mind. God, I can't believe I'm acted like that. I'm an adult, for god's sake, pushing 40. Yet, I'm, acting like a schoolgirl or something.
I've got to be a total idiot!
5
Faith was just leaving for lunch, still kicking herself over yesterday. What was I thinking? Am I a kid, or what? I might as well have said, "come on, baby, let's fuck!" When the hell did I grow a dick and start thinking with it?
She looks across the street, and stops dead in her tracks. Stand there, holding a bag, was Joyce. Looking uncertain. Looking apologetic. God, looking hot!
Joyce had dressed more casually, wearing a blazer, pink button down oxford shirt, jeans and boots. Man, can you say sexy?
Ok, Faith, get a grip? What's she doing here? I thought after yesterday, I'd never see her again! I swear she wanted to slap me. Not like I didn't deserve it.
Faith makes her way across the street, and comes up to Joyce, who at the moment happens to be looking away.
"Hey," Faith says, from behind her.
Joyce jumps a little, and turns around.
"Wow, you scared me!" Joyce says, a trace of irritation in her tone.
"Yeah, I got that affect on lots of women," Faith winks. " Like yesterday. I really came on strong. Ok, I was a dick, ok? And hey, I'm really sorry. I would've told you that, if you hadn't run off so fast."
Joyce's cheeks go pink, and Faith smirks. Nice. Really nice!
"Yeah, about that. Look, things have been kind of crazy lately, and … well… I just … oh I don't know, I acted crazy, ok? I took it all wrong, and over-reacted. I'm sorry. I wanted to come by, and see if maybe we could have that lunch?" She shakes the bag. "What do you think?" She opens the bag, and shows the contents. "Hoagies, really nice. And coffee… and stuff… so?"
"Gee, don't know, Joyce, "Faith grins. "Sure you won't like freak out, rip the sandwich from my mouth and take off again?"
"Ok, ok, I deserve that, "Joyce says ruefully, "Just, say yes, ok?"
"Yes, ok, "Faith teases her. She looks at the bag" Oooo, Barneys. You really did it right, didn't you? How'd you know about Barney's?" In Faith's opinion, Barney's makes the best Hoagies, anywhere, ever.
"I asked the concierge. He told me."
"Good man, "Faith grins, "Well, this'll be nice, having lunch with you. Been a long time since I've had lunch with an attractive woman."
Joyce almost drops the bag, and blushes deep red. Ok, no mistaking that comment.
"You know you're an attractive woman, don't you, Joyce?" Faith says, openly flirting with her. Casually, she takes Joyce's arm and leads her deeper into the little garden park. "C'mon, I know a nice little spot."
Joyce allows herself to be led, and they find a little spot near a pond with a bridge. They sit on the bench, Joyce placing the bag between them. A little safety never hurts..
For awhile, they don't say anything as they munch on the sandwiches. Joyce, for her part, is a little taken aback at the younger woman's brashness.
Ok, I know I've been out of circulation for a long time, but I recognize a full court flirt when I see one. And she was flirting with me. Wasn't she? Oh, c'mon, old girl, don't get so full of yourself. She was probably just trying to be friendly. Anyway, if she flirts a little, so what? Not like I'm going to see her after today. Just relax, girl. Enjoy, for once. Nice not to be treated like a chair, you know?
"So, ummm… Faith, you're from Boston, then?" Joyce finally breaks the silence, trying to lighten things up a little.
"Yeah. Really good thing too. Hate to be from say, oh, Atlanta. The commute would be killer, "Faith chuckles."
"Very funny, Faith. I mean, you were born here?"
"Oh, yeah. Born and bred. South Boston.
"Oh, ok, "Joyce says, not really knowing where that is.'
"You ever see the movie Good Will Hunting ?" Faith asks.
"Yeah, sure. Matt Damon, Ben Afleck, Robin Williams."
"Then you've seen South Boston. Part of it, anyway. It was shot there."
"Really? I didn't know that. Imagine!"
"Don't have to, if you've seen the movie, "Faith says, taking it literally. "Pretty cool that the Southie was totally a genius. One up on those snobby guys, fer sure. "She looks at Joyce, "So, where you from?"
"California. I live there, with my children."
"You got kids?" Faith looks amazed.
"Well, yes, two girls. Dawn, 15, and Buffy, almost 18."
You're shitting me! When did you have them, like, when you were 13?"
Joyce laughs. "Now you're being silly. I'm 39, Faith. Almost forty!"
"No way! No WAY! You're shitting me now, I know it. You look like 30!"
"Well, thank you, "Joyce blushes, "And if you want to think I'm 30, I won't argue with you."
Faith feels a bit of disappointment. Damn! The good ones are always straight, and married. Drag!
"So, I'm guessing you're like here with the kids and Hubby?"
"No hubby," Joyce says, a slight bitter edge in her voice. "Ex-hubby. And no, I'm here alone. Kids are back home, in school. Wish I could've brought them along. I really miss them!"
"Oh, so you're divorced?" YES! " I'm sorry to hear that!" Like hell I'm sorry!
"It's for the best, know what I mean? We've been kind of drifting apart for the last 10 years. And Hank …" Joyce goes quiet. She gets a sad-angry look on her face.
"What? What's wrong?" Faith asks.
"Just… damn… I caught him cheating on me. I guess that explains the not being home…EVER!"
"Oh, man, that so sucks!" Not for me. Oh, it so don't suck for me! " Bastard!"
"Maybe that's why he was playing around. I never wanted to … "Joyce blushes pink." … you know." She says in a small voice.
"Huh?" Faith looks at her. What the … never? Oh my god!
"Yeah, I just couldn't get the idea of putting it in my mouth… kinda ick, if you think about it."
Faith shrugs. Oh, I agree, baby. Me and cocks? So not simpatico!
"So, maybe he went looking for someone who would. Maybe this was my fault…"
"Ok, that's bogus. If the guy hinges your marriage on you sucking his cock, he's totally a prick, you know?"
Joyce just blushes and goes quiet.
"Hey, sorry. Look I don't know… I'm just going by what you tell me here. "Shit, girl, don't fuck this up before it even gets going!
"No, actually, I was thinking about it, and all the crap he gave me?" Joyce looks at Faith, " and you're right. He is a total prick!" Joyce blushes. " Oh god, did I just say that out loud?"
"Oh yeah, you did, "Faith nods, " but don't worry, he sounds like a real dick."
"Oh, he is, he really is, " Joyce laughs. " Wow, that's the first time I've been able to laugh about it, ever."
"Well, I hope he got the lil cocksucker he so richly deserves. Letting a fine woman like you go, " Faith says. They look at each other, and laugh.
"So, you're from California, huh?" Faith asks, after the laughter subsides." I always kinda wanted to go there. You know, like Matt Damon did, at the end of Good Will Hunting."
"Yeah, born and bred," Joyce smiles. " Los Angeles, actually."
"Whoa. L.A. totally cool!"
"Sure. If you forget about the smog, and traffic, and the general hassle. Yeah, I suppose it's cool."
"I bet it's pretty. And warm. Damn, I'm so damned tired of freezing my ass off in these Boston winters!"
"Yeah, that'd be a shame, " Joyce deadpans.
"What?" Faith looks puzzled.
"Your ass dropping off, frozen," Joyce chuckles.
Faith looks at her, and laughs heartily.
"God, I like you. You're … weird, but good weird, get it?"
"I'm weird?" Joyce looks at Faith. " Who's the one working as a docent at an art museum, and doesn't know squat about art? Isn't that just a little weird?"
Damn, busted!
"Hey, I know stuff. Just not about a bunch of old painter dudes, " Faith catches Joyce's look. " I do! I know… I know… what I like!"
Joyce starts laughing. She looks at Faith, and laughs harder. Faith starts to get offended, then she catches the laugh, and soon both are at it, laughing like idiots.
"I … I … guess It's ok … as long… as you don't tell me… you like… the dogs playing …poker…" Joyce gets out between laughs.
"Oh…Damn!… I thought… that's…so cool" Faith laughs along with her.
Faith looks at her watch, and her laughter dies. " Oh crap!"
"Huh?"
"I'm late! Gotta get back to work, " Faith pops up. " Hey, can we like…look, if you won't freak, can we like… do dinner? Maybe a movie or somethin?"
Joyce looks at Faith. She's a little nervous. She's having a great time. And she likes this girl. Really likes her. But … what the hell do we have in common? I'm old enough to be her mom!
"Look, Faith, " Joyce says, " This was very nice. But… really, I don't think I really want more." She looks at Faith, and smiles," It… well, it's just not my thing."
"Your thing?" Faith cocks her head." For Christ's sake, Joyce. I'm not asking you to marry me. I just want to see you again. Have dinner. A couple of chuckles. You're a funny lady. I like you. Emphasize, like. Friends. Is that so bad?"
"No, but…" Joyce stalls, not sure where this is going, and whether she wants to go along for the ride.
"Aw, c'mon, don't think about it!" Faith says, getting a little antsy, " just say yes!"
Oh, what the hell? It's just dinner. Nothing's going to happen!
"Ok, yes!" Joyce says. " Should I like pick you up here?"
"Er… no…really, I'd kinda like to go home and shower and change beforehand. So… where you staying?"
"Wyndham Hotel, downtown. Do you know where it is? I could meet you back here, if that'd be easier."
"Naw, I know where the Wyndham is, " Faith says, waving her hand, " I worked there for awhile. Didn't work out."
"Ok, my hotel then. What time?"
"Well, after I get off work, and go home, and get ready… let's say … oh… around 7?"
"Ok, 7 it is. See you tonight." Joyce stands up, grabbing the basket.
"Cool beans. Seeya!" Faith takes off, a little jaunty bounce in her walk.
Joyce watches her walk away, and she can't help feeling she might have made a mistake. Or maybe not.
Feeling confused, she hails a cab to take her back to her hotel.
A few hours later, Joyce is in her room, checking her look in the mirror. Ok, god, let's see. I don't think it's too momish… god, what am I thinking? This is just a casual dinner among friends. Friends. That's so weird. I've known the girl like, 2 hours max, and I feel like she's a friend. Gaaah, stop thinking so much. She turns back to the mirror.
She's wearing a basic black backless cocktail dress, heels and a pearl necklace. Too much? Hell, I don't know. I don't know where we're going Oh, screw it. If she doesn't like it, too darned bad! I've already spent two hours trying on different looks. This goes with anything.
The phone by her bed rings, and Joyce walks over to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Yes, Mrs. Summers? This is the concierge. There's a young lady down here. She says she's here to meet up with you?"
"Yes, that's correct. Please tell her I'll be down in a few minutes"
"Very good, Mrs. Summers."
"Thank you. Goodbye."
Joyce sets down the phone, and goes to the closet, retrieving her coat. Picking her purse up off the bed, she heads for the door.
She pauses before opening it. Somehow, she has a feeling, things are going to change. Change a lot.
She's not sure how she feels about that. It makes her nervous. It frankly, scares her a little.
But maybe, it's what I need. Maybe I need shaking up.
Oh, god, Joyce. It's dinner. Don't be an ass! Nothing's going to happen!
You're such a … mom!
Opening the door, she walks through and closes it behind her.
To be continued