'a white canvas, complete in itself,' bbtfic, genpenny, 500 words
Title: a white canvas, complete in itself
Rating: G
Summary: Gen. Penny. She's changed since she moved out to California.
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: This was written for help_haiti and their awesome auction, off a lightening round prompt from juniperlane. Cross-posted to penny_career.
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She's arguing with her sister one day, and the phone is loud in her ear. She's leaning back against the kitchen island as she pokes at the rug with her toe and Beth rattles on and on about obligation and family.
"Mom's going to be upset if you're not there," Beth says. Penny can hear the kids in the background, a steady hum coming through the receiver. The girls are six (both blonde, with the same wide, white smiles) and Jeremy is 12. She doesn't see them enough, but she sends postcards once a month and misses them almost daily. "It's their anniversary, Pen."
Penny leans harder against the counter and her voice is a sigh when she speaks. "I can't, Beth. I have to work. And I don't have money for a plane ticket anyway, and my car's in the shop." She can practically hear the impatient shake of her sister's head all the way from Nebraska, and Beth's voice is loud as she says, "I'll lend you the money, or Mom and Dad'll buy your ticket if you ask them. You know-"
"No," Penny interrupts. She learned her lesson borrowing money from Sheldon: she doesn't want to owe anyone anything. She wants to make it on her own. "I'm not asking Mom and Dad for money." Her voice is sharp and clear. Strong. New.
The background noise through the receiver fades, and Beth's voice is softer when she asks, "Are you okay?" Penny can just picture Beth, stepping away from the family and tucked into a quiet corner, her face settled into a worried frown. They've both been that way since they were young. Their most intimate childhood conversations took place in the kitchen pantry, and Penny still picks at the paper labels on canned goods when feeling especially stressed. "Are things really that tight, Penny?"
Penny just shakes her head and doesn't answer, which she knows is answer enough for Beth, whose breath hits the receiver in a rush as she starts again. "Ask Mom and Dad for the money. Come home and see your family."
"No," Penny responds in that same strong tone. She lets it settle around her, lifting her shoulders, pushing out her chest. "I will not ask Dad for help." There is warning enough in her tone that she knows Beth will not push her again, at least for tonight.
Penny hears the twins in the background, and the hustle of Beth's home around her as her sister goes back to her family. "You've changed, Penny." She almost can't hear her over the sound of the kids and her brother-in-law and the blaring TV, but then Beth says, "You weren't like this before you left," and Penny hears her just fine.
She bites off her reply and stays quiet, but when she hangs up the phone, she's smiling.
Rating: G
Summary: Gen. Penny. She's changed since she moved out to California.
Word Count: 500
Disclaimer: This was written for help_haiti and their awesome auction, off a lightening round prompt from juniperlane. Cross-posted to penny_career.
----
She's arguing with her sister one day, and the phone is loud in her ear. She's leaning back against the kitchen island as she pokes at the rug with her toe and Beth rattles on and on about obligation and family.
"Mom's going to be upset if you're not there," Beth says. Penny can hear the kids in the background, a steady hum coming through the receiver. The girls are six (both blonde, with the same wide, white smiles) and Jeremy is 12. She doesn't see them enough, but she sends postcards once a month and misses them almost daily. "It's their anniversary, Pen."
Penny leans harder against the counter and her voice is a sigh when she speaks. "I can't, Beth. I have to work. And I don't have money for a plane ticket anyway, and my car's in the shop." She can practically hear the impatient shake of her sister's head all the way from Nebraska, and Beth's voice is loud as she says, "I'll lend you the money, or Mom and Dad'll buy your ticket if you ask them. You know-"
"No," Penny interrupts. She learned her lesson borrowing money from Sheldon: she doesn't want to owe anyone anything. She wants to make it on her own. "I'm not asking Mom and Dad for money." Her voice is sharp and clear. Strong. New.
The background noise through the receiver fades, and Beth's voice is softer when she asks, "Are you okay?" Penny can just picture Beth, stepping away from the family and tucked into a quiet corner, her face settled into a worried frown. They've both been that way since they were young. Their most intimate childhood conversations took place in the kitchen pantry, and Penny still picks at the paper labels on canned goods when feeling especially stressed. "Are things really that tight, Penny?"
Penny just shakes her head and doesn't answer, which she knows is answer enough for Beth, whose breath hits the receiver in a rush as she starts again. "Ask Mom and Dad for the money. Come home and see your family."
"No," Penny responds in that same strong tone. She lets it settle around her, lifting her shoulders, pushing out her chest. "I will not ask Dad for help." There is warning enough in her tone that she knows Beth will not push her again, at least for tonight.
Penny hears the twins in the background, and the hustle of Beth's home around her as her sister goes back to her family. "You've changed, Penny." She almost can't hear her over the sound of the kids and her brother-in-law and the blaring TV, but then Beth says, "You weren't like this before you left," and Penny hears her just fine.
She bites off her reply and stays quiet, but when she hangs up the phone, she's smiling.