Fic: 5 x 7
Title: 5 x 7
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Pairings: Leslie, Marlene, Leslie/Dave
Rating: PG
Word count: ~3400
Summary: Five defining moments of Leslie in seven-year intervals, from Marlene's somewhat unreliable POV. For the Defining Moments Challenge in Government Shutdown.
Notes: Big thank you to stillscape for the beta! And to rikyl, jncar, and saucydiva for help brainstorming on tumblr. Comments are sweet like J.J.'s waffles.
5 x 7
7 - Math is hard. / You're putting an awful lot of salgar on your pasta.
"Honey, it's not that big a deal."
Leslie sniveled, loudly, and Marlene forced her face to remain neutral though the sound set her teeth on edge and caused her facial muscles to twitch with the desire to grimace.
"Yes, it iiiiis," Leslie wailed. It ended in a sob, and another two large tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped from her chin onto the spaghetti in front of her.
Marlene sighed. She couldn't help it. Leslie, in turn, started blubbering even more loudly than before. Of course.
"It's going to be okay, I promise you. Why don't you try to eat something? It'll make you feel better."
"How … can … you … say … eat something … when everything is … so horrible and ruined and I … don't even … want to live … any- anymo-ore, " Leslie bawled. She was still being wrecked by sobs. You'd think her only family had been condemned to a particularly slow and horrible death. Or at the very least that her pet dog had been hit by a car.
It was nothing of the sort, of course. George Washington the dachshund lay in his basket by the door and when Marlene looked over at him, he slapped a paw across his eyes, as if to echo Marlene's own frustration. Leslie's father was alive and well in Palm Beach, Florida. He'd moved there a year ago to be closer to the girl's only grandmother, whose physical health was a good deal better still than her mental health had ever been, as she was a bit of a religious nut. School was out for summer, too. All in all, Leslie's existence at the moment should have been enviably trouble-free.
"Sweetheart, look at me," Marlene said. Leslie's eyes were brimming with tears, but her mother's stern tone brooked no argument. She did as she was told. "One B never ruined anything.” Marlene wasn't exactly pleased about it, either. But at this point trying to get Leslie to stop breaking up took priority. “Nobody's going to care about it next year. In fact, I promise you, nobody will even remember-"
"Then … what … is the point … of anything!" Leslie cried.
And just like that, she got Marlene's last nerve. "The point is you don't just sit there, crying! You can do better next year."
Now Leslie was staring at her with those large, innocent blue eyes of hers. It could be unnerving sometimes, the way they bore into you, the pools of clear blue that appeared to be free of all depth and impurity.
"But I love math!" the seven-year-old declared defiantly.
“Good. So you work hard at it and and get an A next year.”
Leslie nodded bravely, even as her eyes ran over again with tears. “Okay,” she said.
Marlene tilted her head towards Leslie's pasta, which had to be getting cold by now. Leslie wiped her nose with the edge of her t-shirt-causing a twitch near Marlene's right eyebrow-, then picked up her cutlery.
The relative calm didn't last long, however. Leslie took a taste of the spaghetti and slammed her fork down on the table. It was the sound of finality. "This … this … this spaghetti …," she wailed in between sobs, "it's … too … too … too salty now … salty with … with … my own T-T-TEARS!"
And George Washington ran after her as Leslie fled the kitchen without another look at Marlene.
14 - He lives in Florida.
A single tear had begun to roll down her cheek. Marlene discreetly lifted her sunglasses and used her index finger to wipe it away, hoping no one would notice. Then she felt Leslie's arm go around her shoulder. When she looked over at her daughter, the fourteen-year-old gave her a slight smile.
Leslie seemed absurdly calm today. Marlene couldn't figure it out. They were standing by Robert's grave, watching his casket being lowered into the ground. The moment was causing unfortunate cracks in Marlene's composure, but Leslie appeared to have gone through all the stages of grief in record time and to have arrived at the serene acceptance of her father's death just in time for the funeral.
"I won't believe a word of it until I see him," she'd said over and over and over again that night Nana Knope had called to inform them Robert had in fact not been dieting so much as battling cancer for the last five months. (Leslie, when she'd returned from Florida last Christmas, had made the observation that her father had "finally started to lose some weight.") After the bombshell had been dropped on their heads, Leslie and Marlene had sat in the living room that suddenly felt too large and silent, even though Robert's presence in Marlene's house wasn't really a thing that could be missed. After all, he hadn't lived there for eleven years. At any rate, Marlene had opted for stoicism, saying "yes" every time Leslie reached the point at which she declared that Nana Knope had always been kind of nuts anyway, in her circular argument of why they shouldn't believe a word of it.
Marlene had chosen to remain stoic again the next day, when she'd had to hold Leslie at a safe distance from her father's hospital bed. The girl might have started shaking and rattling the prone and emaciated figure of her father if given half a chance.
"You're my FATHER!" Leslie had raged at him. "How DARE YOU keep this from me!"
"I'm sorry," Marlene had said to Robert after Leslie had stormed from the room with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't worry about it." He'd shrugged. "Guess I deserved that."
"There must be something I can do," Leslie had pled with Robert's doctors the day after that. "I could donate something. A kidney … would that help? Or a lung? What if I gave him a lung?" The doctors had shaken their heads and politely informed her that there was nothing to be done. Marlene had copied their professional stoicism as best she could. Leslie had still insisted on filling out an organ donor card, which she'd put it in her wallet after Marlene had reluctantly given her consent.
Marlene had gone for stoicism again four days later, when Nana Knope had called before dawn to inform them it was time. Robert had died at eight in the morning, with Leslie, Marlene, and Nana Knope by his side. Leslie had spent the rest of the day sobbing by his bedside and refusing to let anyone touch the body.
But now, as they watched the casket disappear from sunlight into the shadowy hole in the ground, Leslie appeared to be handling the spectacle of institutionalized grief all right, and it was Marlene who felt uncharacteristically emotionally unstable. It had something to do with the fact that you weren't really supposed to cry, no doubt. Not at funerals in general-those were supposed to be healthy expressions of institutionally tranquilized grief, to be born by the bereaved with grace and dignity-and certainly not at the funeral of the husband you divorced almost a dozen years ago. Marlene had never done well with sticking to the socially prescribed behaviour for any situation. She'd always been contrary like that, and a little bit perverse. Unlike Leslie, she thought, who turned her face towards the trees in the distance and breathed in deeply, never detaching her hand from her mother's shoulder. She was even more the picture of unmarred celestial innocence right now than usual. With the way sunlight hit her bright blond hair, almost giving her a halo … Yes, her daughter seemed for all the world to have gone through and simultaneously purged herself of all the ugly emotions death evoked, while Marlene herself was only just now ready to admit that she did, in fact, want to cry.
Until two years later, Marlene didn't think she fully understood the serene composure with which Leslie had been able to meet her father's funeral. Then she happened to pass by the door to her daughter's room one night. Inside, her sixteen-year-old was cramming for a math test with her best friend Susie.
"What about your dad, anyway?" Marlene overheard Susie asking, seemingly apropos of nothing.
"Oh, he doesn't live here," Leslie said. "He lives in Florida. In a cemetery."
21 - I once kissed a girl in college.
She knew it was Leslie calling before she picked up the phone. The ringing had that special kind of urgency and enthusiasm to it, somehow.
"Mom!" Leslie said, excited. "I had a meeting with Mr Brenner, guess what he said!"
Mr Brenner was Leslie's academic adviser. "Oh, I don't know, honey-"
"ThatI'llgraduatesummacumlaudenextspring!" Leslie said so fast the words as good as overleapt each other. Then she took an audible breath. "If I keep going as I have been, I mean."
"Sweetheart, that's great!"
"You really think so?" Leslie sounded cautious now, and Marlene felt a pang of guilt. She herself had spent her college days subsisting on a diverse diet of beer, vodka, espresso and ramen noodles, pulling one all-nighter after the other, and going from a torrid love affair with her Economics lecturer to a passionate romance with her roommate Marlah. Leslie, on the other hand, seemed to forsake all such worldly pleasures in favour of a complete immersion in the austerities of academia. At least as far as Marlene could tell, that was what her daughter's college life amounted to. She knew Leslie to be a model student, taking an extravagant load of classes that often lasted from early morning to late at night. On top of that she was involved in myriad clubs that, taken together, seemed to cover the entire political spectrum.
In short, her daughter's college career was every parent's dream. It just wasn't Marlene's dream for Leslie. After all, the girl's academic intelligence had never been in question; it was the street smarts she lacked that Marlene had hoped Leslie would pick up in Bloomington. But it wasn't Leslie's fault that she'd failed to guess at her mother's slightly perverted aspirations for her college career …
Any decent mother would at least pretend academic excellence and sexual asceticism were what she really wanted from her daughter, Marlene thought, so …
"Of course I think it's great. I'm proud of you, honey."
"Thanks mom." She could practically see the wide grin that spread itself across Leslie's face all the way in Bloomington.
"So have you thought about what you're going to do after?"
"Embark on the exciting journey that will lead to me becoming the first female President of the United States! Of course."
"Mh. And how are you planning to start your great political career?"
"For one thing, I thought … you know Grandma and Grandpa Griggs' old house? And how it's just been sitting there, mostly. Well … I thought … if you didn't mind, I could, you know, move in there and-"
"You're coming back home? Why?" Marlene had been expecting this, if she was being honest with herself. And fearing it.
"'Course I am! I've missed Pawnee so much. I mean, Bloomington is great, and I love it here, I do, but I've just … I've missed my hometown. SO much!"
"But, Leslie, what are you even going to do here?" I'd been hoping against hope you'd find someplace else you liked better than this provincial little hole, she thought. An absurd pipe dream, that, I know.
"Get a job, of course! Like you. Public Servant Leslie Knope, that sounds pretty sweet to me. We'll be this political dynasty, you and I. Plus, honestly, part of me just wants to sit under a tree in Ramsett Park and smell the air of Pawnee, Sweetums pollution and all."
"But you want to move into your grandparents' dusty old house? You know it's still full of all their old junk, too … Don't you think you'll be smothered by the old people smell … " I would be, Marlene thought, and I'm a generation closer to your grandparents.
"No, that's what I love about it! The history in that old house. It'll be like I'm surrounded by … by the ghosts of Pawnee! And, you know, the ghosts of my ancestors. If you let me. Please, please let me move in there!"
"I … well, I can't very well say no to that. It has just been sitting empty, so I suppose it's yours if you want it. But I really wish you'd th-"
"Yes! Thanks, mom! I love you so much!"
"Sweetheart, don't you at least want to think about … I don't know, grad school, perhaps? With your grades. Or at least try to get a job in a bigger city … Indianapolis really isn't that far away… "
"Nah, this will be perfect!"
Marlene sighed. It was impossible to force Leslie to do anything, of course. Always had been. But, then, suddenly, there was a commotion at the other end of the line. It sounded like … like what must have been a bunch of people banging at Leslie's door, followed by a muffled female voice yelling, "Yo, Knope, you comin' with us or what?"
"Mom, sorry … there are some people waiting outside my door. So I gotta- study, um, study group- so I gotta go … study … with them now. I'lltalktoyoulaterbye!"
Leslie had hung up on her before Marlene got a chance to say goodbye. And despite her daughter's rather disconcerting decision to go live with the ghosts of her grandparents, and even in spite of her brilliant academic record, the fact that Leslie had just lied to her about going to study-and that fact alone-was what made Marlene smile.
28 - So he left and I waited for an ambulance.
"Thanks for picking me up, mom."
"Mhm."
"Lindsay just has this really, really promising second date tonight, also. Or not also, as it turns out I guess. But that's why I didn't want to call her."
"Mhm."
"I mean, I didn't want to ruin her night, too."
Silence.
"Sorry if I ruined yours."
"That's fine."
"Okay. Good."
"You eaten?"
"No, actually. Never even got that far." Leslie sighed.
Silence.
"So can we go to J.J.'s?"
"You just spent four hours in the emergency room with a broken kneecap and you want to go to J.J.'s now?
"Sure, why not? Nothing like some good old fashioned comfort food with my mom after a night like tonight."
Marlene sighed heavily. "Okay then."
"Great."
After Leslie had hobbled her way over to a booth at J.J.'s and they'd placed their order, Marlene couldn't hold her tongue any longer.
"You really know how to pick 'em, honey."
"I know." Leslie sounded glum.
"So what happened finally?"
Her daughter heaved a sigh. "I've no idea, actually. We took a walk in Wamapokestone Park and it was just super romantic and lovely. I thought. I even threw a penny in the fountain … "
Ah, that explained it. Or some of it at least. Namely how Leslie had ended up being alone when Marlene had picked her up at the emergency room. She'd somehow believed it was good idea to throw a penny into a fountain that symbolized eternal love. On a second date. Part of Marlene wanted to grab and shake her, tell her that she had to keep such romantic fantasies to herself … but, then, Leslie had been punished plenty tonight already.
"… and then we went up the stairs to where the Love Tree is, and I tripped. He called for an ambulance and then he said he wasn't 'feeling it' … and, well, left. That's all."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Marlene covered Leslie's hand with her own on the table. Her daughter appeared to be transfixed by the tabletop.
Until the waitress arrived with their plates, and an extra can of whipped cream in her hands. "Waffles! And extra whipped cream! Thanks so much, Marta. I feel better already," Leslie exclaimed then. She was smiling again already, too. Marlene could only shake her head.
35 - I dated Dave for three months.
The way Leslie talked about him, Marlene had been picturing Dave as a law-enforcing hunk to rival the fire-fighting hunks on the calendar in her bedroom. Of course, knowing her daughter's boundless enthusiasm that never seemed to be marred by too much realism, she might have known better. Dave actually turned out to be a fat, balding ginger, who loomed awkwardly next to the tiny figure of her daughter.
It was mid-November and by now Leslie felt that enough water had passed under the bridge to continue with those animal events of hers at the zoo. At least one of them, she said, she had to get in before winter really hit. Because elephants were pregnant for almost two years at a time, Leslie had meant to throw Mona the elephant a baby shower that summer. But those plans were derailed when the gay penguin wedding had proven controversial. Now Mona was expected to deliver in two months' time, which meant that, if Leslie wanted to get in the shower, it had to happen in rainy November and in the elephants' not entirely species-appropriate indoor enclosure. Marlene shook her head at the notion that drawing public attention to the narrow stalls in which the elephants spent most of their winter could possibly be considered a positive advertisement for Pawnee Zoo.
And she would certainly have skipped this particular Parks event, if Leslie had not been dropping some very heavy hints that her new boyfriend would be there to help out. That meant that Leslie felt ready to introduce him to Marlene, which meant that she was feeling serious about him. Of course, it had not taken much for Leslie to feel serious about some of her men-or boys-in the past, but it had been over six years now since Marlene had met a one of Leslie's boyfriends. She was intrigued.
So that was why she stood behind the cluster of excited children eager to present their gifts of carrots, apples, and peanuts to the expecting mother elephant. Leslie smiled brightly as she presided over the proceedings, and Dave, who, judging by his uniform, was actually supposed to be on duty, stood by her side. He twitched nervously every few seconds. Marlene had the impression the policeman was somehow gearing up to single-handedly defend Leslie from the elephant, should the large animal decide to take down the bars separating it from its audience.
Several reporters had shown up for the occasion, too-you couldn't really blame them, given Leslie's track record at the zoo-, and Dave appeared to be thoroughly uncomfortable with the spotlight. His hands moved from his pockets behind his back and to his hips, then back into his pockets. His eyes roamed through the room. He seemed unable to focus anywhere for more than five seconds, too. A fat, ginger, over-protective klutz-that was the impression he made on Marlene.
Later, Leslie introduced them. "Mom, this is Dave. Dave, this is my mom, the great Marlene Griggs-Knope," she said and Marlene watched all colour disappear from Dave's face. Evidently, no warning had been extended to him about this meeting.
"The great. Whoa. Well, it's a … it's an honor to meet you ma'am. Mar- Mrs Gri- Mrs Knope." Easily flustered, wasn't he? Too easily. Leslie, after all, was wont to spring anything on anyone at any time. Dave didn't seem to be handling that kind of spontaneity very well at all.
"Griggs-Knope. Call me Marlene, please. So-you've been dating my daughter for about two months, I hear," she said, her voice so crystal clear it could have cut glass.
"Yes'm. I mean, Mrs Griggs-Knope. Marlene," Dave stammered in response. Good god, but he was a tad slow, wasn't he?
"I have been," Dave went on, continuing to stumble over his words. "Dating Leslie. Not just- And I have feelings. For her. Your daughter. That are adult … but that are appropriate, given the nature-" Appropriate? Adult? And stammering. Three things Leslie could probably do without, in a man.
"Pleasure to meet you, Dave." Her tone and eyes said otherwise, Marlene knew.
"Uhu. Yes. Likewise. Of, of course." He scratched his head and gave Marlene a lopsided smile.
Perhaps Dave was a nice guy, she decided. But he'd never be able to keep up with Leslie, a woman who didn't hesitate to take over Joan Callamezzo's show if that was what it took to get a word in edgewise. A woman who had publicly defended a night of drunken debauchery spent in a gay bar by loudly protesting that civil servants were allowed to have fun, too.
It would never last.
Fandom: Parks and Recreation
Characters/Pairings: Leslie, Marlene, Leslie/Dave
Rating: PG
Word count: ~3400
Summary: Five defining moments of Leslie in seven-year intervals, from Marlene's somewhat unreliable POV. For the Defining Moments Challenge in Government Shutdown.
Notes: Big thank you to stillscape for the beta! And to rikyl, jncar, and saucydiva for help brainstorming on tumblr. Comments are sweet like J.J.'s waffles.
5 x 7
7 - Math is hard. / You're putting an awful lot of salgar on your pasta.
"Honey, it's not that big a deal."
Leslie sniveled, loudly, and Marlene forced her face to remain neutral though the sound set her teeth on edge and caused her facial muscles to twitch with the desire to grimace.
"Yes, it iiiiis," Leslie wailed. It ended in a sob, and another two large tears rolled down her cheeks and dropped from her chin onto the spaghetti in front of her.
Marlene sighed. She couldn't help it. Leslie, in turn, started blubbering even more loudly than before. Of course.
"It's going to be okay, I promise you. Why don't you try to eat something? It'll make you feel better."
"How … can … you … say … eat something … when everything is … so horrible and ruined and I … don't even … want to live … any- anymo-ore, " Leslie bawled. She was still being wrecked by sobs. You'd think her only family had been condemned to a particularly slow and horrible death. Or at the very least that her pet dog had been hit by a car.
It was nothing of the sort, of course. George Washington the dachshund lay in his basket by the door and when Marlene looked over at him, he slapped a paw across his eyes, as if to echo Marlene's own frustration. Leslie's father was alive and well in Palm Beach, Florida. He'd moved there a year ago to be closer to the girl's only grandmother, whose physical health was a good deal better still than her mental health had ever been, as she was a bit of a religious nut. School was out for summer, too. All in all, Leslie's existence at the moment should have been enviably trouble-free.
"Sweetheart, look at me," Marlene said. Leslie's eyes were brimming with tears, but her mother's stern tone brooked no argument. She did as she was told. "One B never ruined anything.” Marlene wasn't exactly pleased about it, either. But at this point trying to get Leslie to stop breaking up took priority. “Nobody's going to care about it next year. In fact, I promise you, nobody will even remember-"
"Then … what … is the point … of anything!" Leslie cried.
And just like that, she got Marlene's last nerve. "The point is you don't just sit there, crying! You can do better next year."
Now Leslie was staring at her with those large, innocent blue eyes of hers. It could be unnerving sometimes, the way they bore into you, the pools of clear blue that appeared to be free of all depth and impurity.
"But I love math!" the seven-year-old declared defiantly.
“Good. So you work hard at it and and get an A next year.”
Leslie nodded bravely, even as her eyes ran over again with tears. “Okay,” she said.
Marlene tilted her head towards Leslie's pasta, which had to be getting cold by now. Leslie wiped her nose with the edge of her t-shirt-causing a twitch near Marlene's right eyebrow-, then picked up her cutlery.
The relative calm didn't last long, however. Leslie took a taste of the spaghetti and slammed her fork down on the table. It was the sound of finality. "This … this … this spaghetti …," she wailed in between sobs, "it's … too … too … too salty now … salty with … with … my own T-T-TEARS!"
And George Washington ran after her as Leslie fled the kitchen without another look at Marlene.
14 - He lives in Florida.
A single tear had begun to roll down her cheek. Marlene discreetly lifted her sunglasses and used her index finger to wipe it away, hoping no one would notice. Then she felt Leslie's arm go around her shoulder. When she looked over at her daughter, the fourteen-year-old gave her a slight smile.
Leslie seemed absurdly calm today. Marlene couldn't figure it out. They were standing by Robert's grave, watching his casket being lowered into the ground. The moment was causing unfortunate cracks in Marlene's composure, but Leslie appeared to have gone through all the stages of grief in record time and to have arrived at the serene acceptance of her father's death just in time for the funeral.
"I won't believe a word of it until I see him," she'd said over and over and over again that night Nana Knope had called to inform them Robert had in fact not been dieting so much as battling cancer for the last five months. (Leslie, when she'd returned from Florida last Christmas, had made the observation that her father had "finally started to lose some weight.") After the bombshell had been dropped on their heads, Leslie and Marlene had sat in the living room that suddenly felt too large and silent, even though Robert's presence in Marlene's house wasn't really a thing that could be missed. After all, he hadn't lived there for eleven years. At any rate, Marlene had opted for stoicism, saying "yes" every time Leslie reached the point at which she declared that Nana Knope had always been kind of nuts anyway, in her circular argument of why they shouldn't believe a word of it.
Marlene had chosen to remain stoic again the next day, when she'd had to hold Leslie at a safe distance from her father's hospital bed. The girl might have started shaking and rattling the prone and emaciated figure of her father if given half a chance.
"You're my FATHER!" Leslie had raged at him. "How DARE YOU keep this from me!"
"I'm sorry," Marlene had said to Robert after Leslie had stormed from the room with a look of disgust on her face.
"Don't worry about it." He'd shrugged. "Guess I deserved that."
"There must be something I can do," Leslie had pled with Robert's doctors the day after that. "I could donate something. A kidney … would that help? Or a lung? What if I gave him a lung?" The doctors had shaken their heads and politely informed her that there was nothing to be done. Marlene had copied their professional stoicism as best she could. Leslie had still insisted on filling out an organ donor card, which she'd put it in her wallet after Marlene had reluctantly given her consent.
Marlene had gone for stoicism again four days later, when Nana Knope had called before dawn to inform them it was time. Robert had died at eight in the morning, with Leslie, Marlene, and Nana Knope by his side. Leslie had spent the rest of the day sobbing by his bedside and refusing to let anyone touch the body.
But now, as they watched the casket disappear from sunlight into the shadowy hole in the ground, Leslie appeared to be handling the spectacle of institutionalized grief all right, and it was Marlene who felt uncharacteristically emotionally unstable. It had something to do with the fact that you weren't really supposed to cry, no doubt. Not at funerals in general-those were supposed to be healthy expressions of institutionally tranquilized grief, to be born by the bereaved with grace and dignity-and certainly not at the funeral of the husband you divorced almost a dozen years ago. Marlene had never done well with sticking to the socially prescribed behaviour for any situation. She'd always been contrary like that, and a little bit perverse. Unlike Leslie, she thought, who turned her face towards the trees in the distance and breathed in deeply, never detaching her hand from her mother's shoulder. She was even more the picture of unmarred celestial innocence right now than usual. With the way sunlight hit her bright blond hair, almost giving her a halo … Yes, her daughter seemed for all the world to have gone through and simultaneously purged herself of all the ugly emotions death evoked, while Marlene herself was only just now ready to admit that she did, in fact, want to cry.
Until two years later, Marlene didn't think she fully understood the serene composure with which Leslie had been able to meet her father's funeral. Then she happened to pass by the door to her daughter's room one night. Inside, her sixteen-year-old was cramming for a math test with her best friend Susie.
"What about your dad, anyway?" Marlene overheard Susie asking, seemingly apropos of nothing.
"Oh, he doesn't live here," Leslie said. "He lives in Florida. In a cemetery."
21 - I once kissed a girl in college.
She knew it was Leslie calling before she picked up the phone. The ringing had that special kind of urgency and enthusiasm to it, somehow.
"Mom!" Leslie said, excited. "I had a meeting with Mr Brenner, guess what he said!"
Mr Brenner was Leslie's academic adviser. "Oh, I don't know, honey-"
"ThatI'llgraduatesummacumlaudenextspring!" Leslie said so fast the words as good as overleapt each other. Then she took an audible breath. "If I keep going as I have been, I mean."
"Sweetheart, that's great!"
"You really think so?" Leslie sounded cautious now, and Marlene felt a pang of guilt. She herself had spent her college days subsisting on a diverse diet of beer, vodka, espresso and ramen noodles, pulling one all-nighter after the other, and going from a torrid love affair with her Economics lecturer to a passionate romance with her roommate Marlah. Leslie, on the other hand, seemed to forsake all such worldly pleasures in favour of a complete immersion in the austerities of academia. At least as far as Marlene could tell, that was what her daughter's college life amounted to. She knew Leslie to be a model student, taking an extravagant load of classes that often lasted from early morning to late at night. On top of that she was involved in myriad clubs that, taken together, seemed to cover the entire political spectrum.
In short, her daughter's college career was every parent's dream. It just wasn't Marlene's dream for Leslie. After all, the girl's academic intelligence had never been in question; it was the street smarts she lacked that Marlene had hoped Leslie would pick up in Bloomington. But it wasn't Leslie's fault that she'd failed to guess at her mother's slightly perverted aspirations for her college career …
Any decent mother would at least pretend academic excellence and sexual asceticism were what she really wanted from her daughter, Marlene thought, so …
"Of course I think it's great. I'm proud of you, honey."
"Thanks mom." She could practically see the wide grin that spread itself across Leslie's face all the way in Bloomington.
"So have you thought about what you're going to do after?"
"Embark on the exciting journey that will lead to me becoming the first female President of the United States! Of course."
"Mh. And how are you planning to start your great political career?"
"For one thing, I thought … you know Grandma and Grandpa Griggs' old house? And how it's just been sitting there, mostly. Well … I thought … if you didn't mind, I could, you know, move in there and-"
"You're coming back home? Why?" Marlene had been expecting this, if she was being honest with herself. And fearing it.
"'Course I am! I've missed Pawnee so much. I mean, Bloomington is great, and I love it here, I do, but I've just … I've missed my hometown. SO much!"
"But, Leslie, what are you even going to do here?" I'd been hoping against hope you'd find someplace else you liked better than this provincial little hole, she thought. An absurd pipe dream, that, I know.
"Get a job, of course! Like you. Public Servant Leslie Knope, that sounds pretty sweet to me. We'll be this political dynasty, you and I. Plus, honestly, part of me just wants to sit under a tree in Ramsett Park and smell the air of Pawnee, Sweetums pollution and all."
"But you want to move into your grandparents' dusty old house? You know it's still full of all their old junk, too … Don't you think you'll be smothered by the old people smell … " I would be, Marlene thought, and I'm a generation closer to your grandparents.
"No, that's what I love about it! The history in that old house. It'll be like I'm surrounded by … by the ghosts of Pawnee! And, you know, the ghosts of my ancestors. If you let me. Please, please let me move in there!"
"I … well, I can't very well say no to that. It has just been sitting empty, so I suppose it's yours if you want it. But I really wish you'd th-"
"Yes! Thanks, mom! I love you so much!"
"Sweetheart, don't you at least want to think about … I don't know, grad school, perhaps? With your grades. Or at least try to get a job in a bigger city … Indianapolis really isn't that far away… "
"Nah, this will be perfect!"
Marlene sighed. It was impossible to force Leslie to do anything, of course. Always had been. But, then, suddenly, there was a commotion at the other end of the line. It sounded like … like what must have been a bunch of people banging at Leslie's door, followed by a muffled female voice yelling, "Yo, Knope, you comin' with us or what?"
"Mom, sorry … there are some people waiting outside my door. So I gotta- study, um, study group- so I gotta go … study … with them now. I'lltalktoyoulaterbye!"
Leslie had hung up on her before Marlene got a chance to say goodbye. And despite her daughter's rather disconcerting decision to go live with the ghosts of her grandparents, and even in spite of her brilliant academic record, the fact that Leslie had just lied to her about going to study-and that fact alone-was what made Marlene smile.
28 - So he left and I waited for an ambulance.
"Thanks for picking me up, mom."
"Mhm."
"Lindsay just has this really, really promising second date tonight, also. Or not also, as it turns out I guess. But that's why I didn't want to call her."
"Mhm."
"I mean, I didn't want to ruin her night, too."
Silence.
"Sorry if I ruined yours."
"That's fine."
"Okay. Good."
"You eaten?"
"No, actually. Never even got that far." Leslie sighed.
Silence.
"So can we go to J.J.'s?"
"You just spent four hours in the emergency room with a broken kneecap and you want to go to J.J.'s now?
"Sure, why not? Nothing like some good old fashioned comfort food with my mom after a night like tonight."
Marlene sighed heavily. "Okay then."
"Great."
After Leslie had hobbled her way over to a booth at J.J.'s and they'd placed their order, Marlene couldn't hold her tongue any longer.
"You really know how to pick 'em, honey."
"I know." Leslie sounded glum.
"So what happened finally?"
Her daughter heaved a sigh. "I've no idea, actually. We took a walk in Wamapokestone Park and it was just super romantic and lovely. I thought. I even threw a penny in the fountain … "
Ah, that explained it. Or some of it at least. Namely how Leslie had ended up being alone when Marlene had picked her up at the emergency room. She'd somehow believed it was good idea to throw a penny into a fountain that symbolized eternal love. On a second date. Part of Marlene wanted to grab and shake her, tell her that she had to keep such romantic fantasies to herself … but, then, Leslie had been punished plenty tonight already.
"… and then we went up the stairs to where the Love Tree is, and I tripped. He called for an ambulance and then he said he wasn't 'feeling it' … and, well, left. That's all."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Marlene covered Leslie's hand with her own on the table. Her daughter appeared to be transfixed by the tabletop.
Until the waitress arrived with their plates, and an extra can of whipped cream in her hands. "Waffles! And extra whipped cream! Thanks so much, Marta. I feel better already," Leslie exclaimed then. She was smiling again already, too. Marlene could only shake her head.
35 - I dated Dave for three months.
The way Leslie talked about him, Marlene had been picturing Dave as a law-enforcing hunk to rival the fire-fighting hunks on the calendar in her bedroom. Of course, knowing her daughter's boundless enthusiasm that never seemed to be marred by too much realism, she might have known better. Dave actually turned out to be a fat, balding ginger, who loomed awkwardly next to the tiny figure of her daughter.
It was mid-November and by now Leslie felt that enough water had passed under the bridge to continue with those animal events of hers at the zoo. At least one of them, she said, she had to get in before winter really hit. Because elephants were pregnant for almost two years at a time, Leslie had meant to throw Mona the elephant a baby shower that summer. But those plans were derailed when the gay penguin wedding had proven controversial. Now Mona was expected to deliver in two months' time, which meant that, if Leslie wanted to get in the shower, it had to happen in rainy November and in the elephants' not entirely species-appropriate indoor enclosure. Marlene shook her head at the notion that drawing public attention to the narrow stalls in which the elephants spent most of their winter could possibly be considered a positive advertisement for Pawnee Zoo.
And she would certainly have skipped this particular Parks event, if Leslie had not been dropping some very heavy hints that her new boyfriend would be there to help out. That meant that Leslie felt ready to introduce him to Marlene, which meant that she was feeling serious about him. Of course, it had not taken much for Leslie to feel serious about some of her men-or boys-in the past, but it had been over six years now since Marlene had met a one of Leslie's boyfriends. She was intrigued.
So that was why she stood behind the cluster of excited children eager to present their gifts of carrots, apples, and peanuts to the expecting mother elephant. Leslie smiled brightly as she presided over the proceedings, and Dave, who, judging by his uniform, was actually supposed to be on duty, stood by her side. He twitched nervously every few seconds. Marlene had the impression the policeman was somehow gearing up to single-handedly defend Leslie from the elephant, should the large animal decide to take down the bars separating it from its audience.
Several reporters had shown up for the occasion, too-you couldn't really blame them, given Leslie's track record at the zoo-, and Dave appeared to be thoroughly uncomfortable with the spotlight. His hands moved from his pockets behind his back and to his hips, then back into his pockets. His eyes roamed through the room. He seemed unable to focus anywhere for more than five seconds, too. A fat, ginger, over-protective klutz-that was the impression he made on Marlene.
Later, Leslie introduced them. "Mom, this is Dave. Dave, this is my mom, the great Marlene Griggs-Knope," she said and Marlene watched all colour disappear from Dave's face. Evidently, no warning had been extended to him about this meeting.
"The great. Whoa. Well, it's a … it's an honor to meet you ma'am. Mar- Mrs Gri- Mrs Knope." Easily flustered, wasn't he? Too easily. Leslie, after all, was wont to spring anything on anyone at any time. Dave didn't seem to be handling that kind of spontaneity very well at all.
"Griggs-Knope. Call me Marlene, please. So-you've been dating my daughter for about two months, I hear," she said, her voice so crystal clear it could have cut glass.
"Yes'm. I mean, Mrs Griggs-Knope. Marlene," Dave stammered in response. Good god, but he was a tad slow, wasn't he?
"I have been," Dave went on, continuing to stumble over his words. "Dating Leslie. Not just- And I have feelings. For her. Your daughter. That are adult … but that are appropriate, given the nature-" Appropriate? Adult? And stammering. Three things Leslie could probably do without, in a man.
"Pleasure to meet you, Dave." Her tone and eyes said otherwise, Marlene knew.
"Uhu. Yes. Likewise. Of, of course." He scratched his head and gave Marlene a lopsided smile.
Perhaps Dave was a nice guy, she decided. But he'd never be able to keep up with Leslie, a woman who didn't hesitate to take over Joan Callamezzo's show if that was what it took to get a word in edgewise. A woman who had publicly defended a night of drunken debauchery spent in a gay bar by loudly protesting that civil servants were allowed to have fun, too.
It would never last.