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Story mode!
Nov. 13th, 2012 09:41 am(I've been meaning to do this for months, am just now getting around to doing so. Lazy mofo is lazy.)
Monday at the Roflhaus (as she refers to it): he's working on window stuff on the computer, she's messing around on his iphone. The fact that an old friend of his had called last week with church drama is in the back of her mind, but she isn't really paying much heed to it - it's a fact, just like the hundreds of other facts that swim around in her mind.
At least, she doesn't pay much heed to it until a call shows up on his phone. She sees it's from Montana. No way. Who is it? Terry? Art? Dennis again? ...Nah, they wouldn't call, I'm overreacting. She presses the button to turn the sound back on, the familiar sound of Ima Robot's "Greenback Boogie" fills the air, and she hands the phone to her husband. He looks vaguely irritated, no doubt expecting a work call - further complaints from bizarre customers. "Hello? ...Hi, Terry."
No freaking way! She mouths his full name, asking in so many words if this is seriously who this is or if it's a roofing customer who just happens to have the same name and live in the same area. He doesn't respond, but as the conversation gets under way she realizes that it is indeed who she thought it was.
She catches his eye again and mouths "Huge balls", pantomiming what she means in case he's suddenly lost the ability to read lips. He smiles and rolls his eyes in agreement.
The conversation stretches on. She can tell from his voice that he's trying to be neutral and nice, suddenly involved in drama with people he used to be really close friends with, but was deeply hurt, even betrayed, by. She hears a kind of longing in his voice - these people used to be very close friends, and she knows that he misses their friendship. She knows that he at least would love to reconcile with them, have an active friendship with them. She wouldn't - she's met everyone involved and doesn't really like them all that well, and since the original drama and betrayal her opinion hasn't improved. But she knows her husband well, knows that he takes pain deeply, that he still hurts over the thoughtless actions of these people several years ago.
She listens to his end of the conversation as she mows down Rebel soldiers in Star Wars Battlefront II. And she listens to him talk about it, late at night in bed, when they're both in that twilight state that precedes going to sleep. And her heart aches for him - she also knows loneliness, how it hurts to miss people that have betrayed you, just wanting to have those friendships back.
Her inclination is to wreak physical or emotional harm on these people, these people that have dared to hurt her husband. She's never pretended to be anything other than vengeful, and she'd love to wreak vengeance on them now. But she also knows that this won't help... that nothing she can do would help, other than to... listen, empathize, show him through action that at least one person in his life will never betray him. So she'll do that, she decides. Because ultimately, all she really wants to do is help, anyway.
Monday at the Roflhaus (as she refers to it): he's working on window stuff on the computer, she's messing around on his iphone. The fact that an old friend of his had called last week with church drama is in the back of her mind, but she isn't really paying much heed to it - it's a fact, just like the hundreds of other facts that swim around in her mind.
At least, she doesn't pay much heed to it until a call shows up on his phone. She sees it's from Montana. No way. Who is it? Terry? Art? Dennis again? ...Nah, they wouldn't call, I'm overreacting. She presses the button to turn the sound back on, the familiar sound of Ima Robot's "Greenback Boogie" fills the air, and she hands the phone to her husband. He looks vaguely irritated, no doubt expecting a work call - further complaints from bizarre customers. "Hello? ...Hi, Terry."
No freaking way! She mouths his full name, asking in so many words if this is seriously who this is or if it's a roofing customer who just happens to have the same name and live in the same area. He doesn't respond, but as the conversation gets under way she realizes that it is indeed who she thought it was.
She catches his eye again and mouths "Huge balls", pantomiming what she means in case he's suddenly lost the ability to read lips. He smiles and rolls his eyes in agreement.
The conversation stretches on. She can tell from his voice that he's trying to be neutral and nice, suddenly involved in drama with people he used to be really close friends with, but was deeply hurt, even betrayed, by. She hears a kind of longing in his voice - these people used to be very close friends, and she knows that he misses their friendship. She knows that he at least would love to reconcile with them, have an active friendship with them. She wouldn't - she's met everyone involved and doesn't really like them all that well, and since the original drama and betrayal her opinion hasn't improved. But she knows her husband well, knows that he takes pain deeply, that he still hurts over the thoughtless actions of these people several years ago.
She listens to his end of the conversation as she mows down Rebel soldiers in Star Wars Battlefront II. And she listens to him talk about it, late at night in bed, when they're both in that twilight state that precedes going to sleep. And her heart aches for him - she also knows loneliness, how it hurts to miss people that have betrayed you, just wanting to have those friendships back.
Her inclination is to wreak physical or emotional harm on these people, these people that have dared to hurt her husband. She's never pretended to be anything other than vengeful, and she'd love to wreak vengeance on them now. But she also knows that this won't help... that nothing she can do would help, other than to... listen, empathize, show him through action that at least one person in his life will never betray him. So she'll do that, she decides. Because ultimately, all she really wants to do is help, anyway.
