Enshrine me in castles of splendor
Frakking phone monopoly kept me offline for days, but I'm still using the rat icon because bsg_aussiegirl challenged me to write this within a specific number of minutes.
For ar_drabbles challenge 31: home
She feels almost at home in her skin when she runs, pushing her body to its limits, forcing it to be functional, not decorative.
"A woman can be beautiful or she can be smart. You're both, Laura, so you'll have to choose."
"That's not fair, Daddy."
"Life's not fair."
"If I want to be beautiful?"
"Life will be easy. People will do things for you. You'll never really grow."
"And if I want to be smart?"
"You'll go far. But your life will be lonely and hard."
She usually chose brains over beauty. In high school she'd let her grades slip while she dated the captain of the football team. Dad grounded her for a month. Soon her boyfriend found another girl beautiful.
She had her share of lovers, met at lectures or political rallies. Richard was her only work affair, and she knew it was ending when he stopped calling her the smartest member of his cabinet and starting calling her the most beautiful.
She's not sure what Bill sees in her. It can't be beauty, not after the diloxin. Probably never was, or he'd look at her differently than he had before. Maybe he doesn't even think of her looks. She doesn't think of his when she thinks of him -- just his voice, his eyes, his hands, and always his words.
She runs, thinking of him, feeling light and easy. She's running toward something, she doesn't know what, but finds it waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
"You're flushed. You look good."
She'd chosen smart. It worked out to nothing but a handful of poisoned dirt.
She looks in Bill's eyes and sees what he sees: brains, bones, duty, disease, and always her beauty.
With a shock she understands.
What she's seeing is home.
For ar_drabbles challenge 31: home
She feels almost at home in her skin when she runs, pushing her body to its limits, forcing it to be functional, not decorative.
"A woman can be beautiful or she can be smart. You're both, Laura, so you'll have to choose."
"That's not fair, Daddy."
"Life's not fair."
"If I want to be beautiful?"
"Life will be easy. People will do things for you. You'll never really grow."
"And if I want to be smart?"
"You'll go far. But your life will be lonely and hard."
She usually chose brains over beauty. In high school she'd let her grades slip while she dated the captain of the football team. Dad grounded her for a month. Soon her boyfriend found another girl beautiful.
She had her share of lovers, met at lectures or political rallies. Richard was her only work affair, and she knew it was ending when he stopped calling her the smartest member of his cabinet and starting calling her the most beautiful.
She's not sure what Bill sees in her. It can't be beauty, not after the diloxin. Probably never was, or he'd look at her differently than he had before. Maybe he doesn't even think of her looks. She doesn't think of his when she thinks of him -- just his voice, his eyes, his hands, and always his words.
She runs, thinking of him, feeling light and easy. She's running toward something, she doesn't know what, but finds it waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
"You're flushed. You look good."
She'd chosen smart. It worked out to nothing but a handful of poisoned dirt.
She looks in Bill's eyes and sees what he sees: brains, bones, duty, disease, and always her beauty.
With a shock she understands.
What she's seeing is home.