Talisman
for ar_drabbles challenge 22: Faith
She hated head scarves. The wig was bad enough, but at least that allowed her the illusion of normalcy. The head scarves made her feel like she ought to be carrying a load of rags and a feather duster.
It surprised her that anyone would take the time to craft these things. It shocked her that there was enough of a market for such an effort to be worthwhile. It startled her how touched she was that someone gave her -- not The President - a gift. It saddened her that it was just a little too short to fit her head.
Bill found her at the mirror, crying, knotting the fabric over and over desperately, a symbol of faith that had to fit if there were to be any hope. His agile fingers and better viewing angle were no help; the scarf was too small.
"Maybe you could use it as a pocket scarf."
"It's a head scarf, Bill."
"You could keep it on the desk, look at it while you work."
"It's meant to be worn. That's why Emily gave it to me. It's hope. It's not just for me, it's for everyone."
Bill left and she went back to tying and retying the ends, catching the material on a broken nail.
"Let me." His voice in her ear was confident, the sound of a solution offered. He looped a rubber band around the ends and secured them against the back of Laura's head. "You won't be able to wear it outside, but at least you can wear it. It could be our equivalent of lacy little lingerie."
"Only you would find a head scarf sexy, Bill."
"It's you. I'll always find you sexy. It's not the scarf. You believe in things. Scrolls and scarves. I believe in you."
She hated head scarves. The wig was bad enough, but at least that allowed her the illusion of normalcy. The head scarves made her feel like she ought to be carrying a load of rags and a feather duster.
It surprised her that anyone would take the time to craft these things. It shocked her that there was enough of a market for such an effort to be worthwhile. It startled her how touched she was that someone gave her -- not The President - a gift. It saddened her that it was just a little too short to fit her head.
Bill found her at the mirror, crying, knotting the fabric over and over desperately, a symbol of faith that had to fit if there were to be any hope. His agile fingers and better viewing angle were no help; the scarf was too small.
"Maybe you could use it as a pocket scarf."
"It's a head scarf, Bill."
"You could keep it on the desk, look at it while you work."
"It's meant to be worn. That's why Emily gave it to me. It's hope. It's not just for me, it's for everyone."
Bill left and she went back to tying and retying the ends, catching the material on a broken nail.
"Let me." His voice in her ear was confident, the sound of a solution offered. He looped a rubber band around the ends and secured them against the back of Laura's head. "You won't be able to wear it outside, but at least you can wear it. It could be our equivalent of lacy little lingerie."
"Only you would find a head scarf sexy, Bill."
"It's you. I'll always find you sexy. It's not the scarf. You believe in things. Scrolls and scarves. I believe in you."