C:\Users\SazhRan\Documents\Stories\Awesome.txt

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Re: C:\Users\SazhRan\Documents\Stories\Awesome.txt

Innlegg SazhRan S. Prosper » 01 Nov 2011 21:57

HEI, ALLE SAMMEN. Her er en lang en, om jenter i rullestoler og kjærleik og individualisme og hele pakka. Vær så god, nyt!
Seriøst, plz les. ;_; Det tok SÅ LANG TID å bbkode.

Earthbound


“Riley's coming to visit,” Elizabeth says over breakfast. She'd gotten the message late last night, unable to close her eyes without seeing maggots eating at her dead legs.
“That's nice, honey,” her mother says, between bites of a bran muffin. Elizabeth glances down at her own Cocoa Puffs.
“He's bringing someone,” Elizabeth elaborates.
At this, her mother starts to look vaguely interested. “A girl?”
“He didn't say.”
“When?”
“Thursday, he said.”
The rest of the breakfast passes in silence, only broken when Elizabeth drops her spoon on the floor. Her mother retrieves it.

Today is Tuesday. Elizabeth catches herself wondering about the mystery person Riley is bringing, and berates herself. Large chunks of code have to be rewritten because of seemingly inconsequential mistakes, and she's done working later than usual.
The noises and scents of her mother starting dinner travels down the hallway and into her home office, and she gives up, rolling her wheelchair to her room instead.

That night, the maggots leave her and her damaged legs alone. Instead, she dreams of somebody taking her away.

On Wednesday, work passes in a blur, and Elizabeth's mother insists on braiding her hair.
“You look so cute, just like when you were eight!”
“Thanks, mom,” Elizabeth says, and focuses on the TV.

“You don't think they'll have to sleep here, do you?” Her mother's eating another bran muffin, appearing concerned. “We only have one sofa, I suppose I could find a sleeping bag in the attic for the other..”
“I'm sure it's fine, mom,” Elizabeth says. “I think Riley would've told you.”
Her mother's lips thin, and she turns away.

At last, they arrive. Riley's signature stomping of boots makes Elizabeth want to rush to the door. Instead, she rolls behind when her mother goes to open it.
“Hey, mom.” Riley's smile is awkward, and so is the hug he gives her. He perks up when he sees Elizabeth, looming behind her mom like a clumsy shadow.
“Eli, hi!”
“Hi,” Elizabeth says, and gratefully returns the hug he leans down to give her. Over his shoulder, she can see a woman. His plus one, Elizabeth's mind helpfully supplies, and she lowers her gaze just as the woman is about to meet it.
“Mom, Eli, this is Dora,” Riley says as he steps back.
Elizabeth tries to wave, but the motion gets awkward and she stops halfway through. Nobody seems to notice.
“Hello,” Elizabeth's mom says, and grips Dora's outstretched hand. “How do you know Riley?”
“Mom,” Riley says sharply.
“We met in the military,” Dora says, still with a friendly smile.
That can't be healthy, smiling for so long, Elizabeth thinks. After all, her mother is very careful about her health, and Elizabeth hasn't seen her smile in a long time.
Neither of them smile much.
Elizabeth stops being a passenger on that train of thought, and listens back in on the conversation.
“As long as you're happy,” her mother is saying with a sigh.
Mom,” Riley says again, knife edge in his voice. Elizabeth's mother ignores him.
“I made us some sandwiches,” she says, and starts heading for the kitchen. Riley follows her.
Out of her peripheral vision, Elizabeth can see Dora eying her wheelchair. She flushes, and makes sure Dora has walked past before rolling after.

The kitchen is filled with an awkward silence. Elizabeth's mother seems to have finished interrogating Dora, and is busying herself with something on the counter, effectively turning her back to them. No sandwich for her, of course. Elizabeth's has extra mayo.
Riley and Dora have both taken seats at their kitchen table. Elizabeth finds it harder to avoid their gazes when they're practically eye level.
“So,” Riley says. Dora and Elizabeth both look at him. “How's the code, Eli?”
Elizabeth glances over at Dora, who looks interestedly back. “Same old,” she mumbles into her sandwich.
Riley smiles. “Well,” he says, “I've gotten a cat.”
“You have?” Dora says, and almost turns in her seat to look at him. “How come I didn't know that?”
Riley shrugs. “I dunno, maybe because you haven't been over in a while? We'll talk about it later, whatever.” The words sound accusing, and Riley's eyes adapt the apologetic sheen they had for a year after coming back from the army and finding Elizabeth broken.
“What kind of cat is it?” Elizabeth asks shyly.
“A regular house cat, I think,” Riley replies, and his smile is almost indulgent. Dora looks annoyed as she munches on her own sandwich. “I don't know much about cats, I picked it up at the shelter a few days ago.”
Dora opens her mouth to asks something, but changes her mind after a meaningful glance from Riley.
“What's its name?” Elizabeth asks, still not meeting Riley's stare. He wouldn't meet hers for such a long time, it feels uncomfortable now.
“Actually, I was hoping to get your help on that,” Riley says. His plate is just crumbs, devoured as soon as they sat down. Riley's the speed eater of them. Elizabeth gets into the habit if she's stressed enough. “It's a boycat, small-ish. Gray. What do you think it should be called?”
“Tom,” Elizabeth says after a moment's thought. She can see Dora crack a smile at the suggestion.
Riley nods. “Sounds good,” he says, and is obviously done formulating another sentence when Elizabeth's mother interrupts him.
“Riley!” She turns around, and catches all three of them by surprise. Dora, who was in the middle of swallowing, makes an awkward sound. “I need to talk to you.”
Riley's brows pinch together, but he makes no argument before following Elizabeth's mother out the door.
Dora and Elizabeth look after them.
Dora turns to Elizabeth. “So,” she says, and Elizabeth thinks, here's one who doesn't waste time thinking before she speaks. “How'd you get into the chair?”
Elizabeth turns red, and she can feel her features twist into something angry. She meets Dora's eyes, a charcoal brown common for her complexion. “I'm sorry?”
“Oh, wait,” Dora says, and looks embarrassed. “That was pretty rude, wasn't it? Sorry. My parents dropped me on my head a lot when I was a kid.” She fiddles a bit with the napkin beside her plate.
“You don't have to tell me if you don't wanna, no pressure and all that. I'm just curious, I know some vets in chairs like that.” She nods towards Elizabeth's manual wheelchair, and Elizabeth softens. It's strangely refreshing not to skirt around the issue, and it's not like she doesn't think of the accident every day anyway.
She looks down at her wheelchair. “Drunk driver, car accident.”
“Oh.” Dora looks sympathetic, but there's no pity in her eyes. Elizabeth's learned to tell the difference. “That sucks.”
Elizabeth shrugs. “It's been a while. Can we-- uhm, can we talk about something else now?”
“Sure,” Dora says. “So, you work with code?”

They're having a conversation, Elizabeth realizes in the middle of listening to Dora rant about what was wrong in War and Peace. A real, proper conversation, and it feels liberating. Granted, sometimes it veers awfully close to a monologue on Dora's part, but still. Elizabeth loves her mother, she does, but they haven't talked like this in ages.
“Uhm, if I might--”
“Yeah, yeah, go on.”
“What I think Tolstoy was actually trying to say, is--”
Elizabeth starts, but trails off as the kitchen door opens, and two unhappy-looking figures enter. Elizabeth had almost forgotten they existed at all.
“Well, Eli, it was nice seeing you,” Riley says, “but me and Dora have to leave.”
Elizabeth feels disappointed without really understanding why, at least until Dora turns back to her and asks, “Do you IM anywhere? My phone's shit, can't afford the texting charges anyway.”
“Yeah,” she says, a bit taken aback and flattered in a way she hasn't been before. “I'm earthbound on Skype.”
“Great!” Dora smiles, and Elizabeth can't help but smile back.

“That brother of yours,” Elizabeth's mom says over pasta carbonara, and sighs.
“What?” Elizabeth asks, grabbing a glass of soda.
“He's a bit odd, isn't he?”
“Well,” Elizabeth says. She'd always thought Riley was pretty well-adjusted, coming back from war the same person who enlisted, but her mother does have a point. She always does. “I guess you're right.”
“And that girl he brought..”
Her mother sighs again. She reaches across the table to wipe some sauce from Elizabeth's chin.
“At least I have you here with me. Right?”
“Yeah, mom,” Elizabeth says, “You'll always have me.”

(That's something they never speak of, how it's Elizabeth's mother, not Riley's, and Elizabeth's brother, not her own son.)

greencandle: eli
greencandle: eeeeli
greencandle: eliiii
greencandle: can i call you eli btw
earthbound: hi. sure.
greencandle: gr8
greencandle: so, sup?
earthbound: working
greencandle : this late?
earthbound: yeah, i was distracted earlier today.
earthbound: also, it's not that late.
greencandle: maybe I'm just lucky with my job, then ;)

Dora's a paper-pusher of some kind. Elizabeth thought it sounded dead boring when Dora first mentioned it, but Dora swore by it before she could even word her thoughts. Not that she would've.

“Remember to move your thighs, not your back!” Elizabeth's watching a Sporty Sara jump around on the screen when her mom comes home earlier than expected. She grasps for the remote, but it falls to the floor in her desperation. By the time she's gotten it back, her mother's entered the living room.
“Elizabeth..”
Elizabeth turns off the TV, and dutifully turns to face her mother. She's still in her white pediatrician gown, and she's looking at Elizabeth with dismayed eyes.
“You know how I feel about those videos.”
Elizabeth nods, and studies the floor. She tries to guess the story behind some of the unfamiliar indentations.
“I'm disappointed in you.”
Elizabeth nods again. Shame reddens her face.
“It's obvious that you don't respect my authority,” Elizabeth's mother continues. She sighs. That's all she does these days, sighs and sighs and sighs. Elizabeth never thought the exhalation of breath could be so filled with words. “I'm taking away your internet outside work hours for a week. I'm sorry, honey, but you have to learn. These kinds of videos aren't good for you, darling, you know that.”
“Yeah, mom. Sorry, mom.”
Elizabeth's mom walks over to the TV, pops out the DVD, puts it in its case. “And I'm taking this.”

greencandle: hey eli
greencandle: guess what i found on the internets
earthbound: sorry, can't talk now or for a week.
greencandle: uh, kay
greencandle: y not?
earthbound: mom's taking away my internet.
greencandle: LOL
greencandle: srsly? does she think youre 12?
earthbound: what? no.
earthbound: i'm sorry, i have to go.
earthbound has logged off.

“Honey, come watch television with me. There's that actress you like.”
“Okay, mom.”

“Baby, I'm running down to the store. Do you want anything? Candy?”
“I'm alright, mom.”
“Come on, the weekend's almost here. I think you deserve something delicious for being such a sweet girl.”
“Some KitKats, then, mom. Please.”

“Do you want a bath, hon? I can put the water on for you.” Elizabeth's mom stands off to the side of Elizabeth's gaze. She looks worried, almost.
“That sounds great, actually. Yeah.” Elizabeth gives her mother a small smile, and the worried lines of her face decrease bit by bit.
“Great! It'll be done in just a few minutes.” Her mom bustles out, and Elizabeth turns back to the yammering TV. When her mom calls the bath done, and Elizabeth rolls into the bathroom, the first thing she does is ask her mother to cover up the mirror.
One of the few things Elizabeth dislikes more than mirrors is the blurry image she saw of herself before her mother covered it up.

Elizabeth thinks about Dora's last few words, about her mother thinking she's twelve years old. She doesn't, Elizabeth thinks with a vehement tone that takes her by surprise. Her mother is kind and giving, and she wants Elizabeth's best. Even in situations where Elizabeth might not see it herself.

“Hey, baby.” Elizabeth's mom's come in after another one of her nightmares. Elizabeth is sweaty, and her throat is sore. She's running her hands up and down her legs.
“Maggots again?”
Elizabeth nods, and her mom pushes back the hair that creeps into her face. Her mother sighs, and looks down. She's sitting on the edge of the bed. The covers are pushed back almost entirely, exposing Elizabeth's pale legs to the Maine winter air.
Elizabeth's mom looks almost despairing for a moment, then she pulls herself back together. “I'm sorry, honey. Do you want some warm milk?”
Elizabeth nods again.

greencandle: :o!
greencandle: ur back!
greencandle: and so late to
earthbound: you're not one to talk
earthbound: why're you up?
greencandle: bad dreams
earthbound: same
greencandle: not a vet for nothing!
greencandle: wanna share?
earthbound: not really
greencandle: ok
greencandle: anyway
greencandle: youve missed out on a lot this week
earthbound: like what?

greencandle: so earthbound huh
greencandle: that sounds deep
earthbound: it's not really
earthbound: i got it after the accident
greencandle: y, wats it mean?
earthbound: it's silly
greencandle: cmoooon
earthbound: well
earthbound: i used to run track in high school
earthbound: i wasn't very good, none of us were to be frank
earthbound: but i miss it, you know?
earthbound: i miss that sense of flying you sometimes got
greencandle: that's not silly atall
earthbound: so, what about greencandle?
greencandle: oh, its from a cohen song
greencandle: shows how inventive i am, huh
greencandle: hold on
greencandle: here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iels3GLw-zs
earthbound: it's nice
greencandle: yep

Somehow, when Elizabeth goes to sleep, she starts looking forward to waking up not because she won't be plagued by terrible dreams, but because she actually wants to experience a new day. She wakes up, and sometimes she doesn't even wear the clothes her mother has picked out for her, laid out on the bed. There's this feeling in her stomach, this wonderful feeling of something that Elizabeth can't -- won't -- identify.

earthbound: can i ask you something
greencandle: sure
earthbound: what was the war like?
greencandle: well
greencandle: its kind of hard to exlpain
greencandle: it was war, yknow
greencandle: but there were happy times
greencandle: and sad times
greencandle: and that terrible moment
greencandle: where you realize that maybe not everyone who arrived with you is going to leave iwth you
earthbound: would you do it again?
greencandle: not in a million years


Weeks pass like that. Dora keeps circling around the subject of family, keeps trying to get Elizabeth to talk about her mother. Elizabeth logs off every time the subject rises, angered by Dora's ridiculous thoughts on it, but when Dora suggests meeting for coffee or tea or something at a local bakery, Elizabeth still takes the offer after a day's thought.
“Mom?” Elizabeth turns to her mother, who's sitting in the sofa beside her. Elizabeth's wheelchair stands forlorn by the sofa's side.
“Yeah, baby?” Her mom doesn't really pay attention, keeps watching the colorful TV shop commercial advertising some new health product.
“I need you to drive me somewhere.”
Her mother starts a bit. “Oh? Where?”
“I'm meeting someone at the baker's.”
“Who?” Her mother doesn't look like she's quite buying into the idea. Elizabeth hasn't left the house in a long, long time.
Elizabeth doesn't know why, but it's like she wants to keep this meeting to herself. Without her mother's knowledge. It seems like a ludicrous thought, absurd, but she still says: “.. Melissa.”
“Melissa? From high school?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought she moved to Oregon?”
“She's back, for a while. She.. emailed me.”
“Alright, then.” Her mother still looks a bit suspicious, but smooths out her wrinkles with a hand. She doesn't need them staying. “When do you have to be there? How long do you plan on staying? I could wait in the car.”
“This Wednesday, at six. You don't have to wait, I'll call when you can come pick me up.”
“You don't have a cell phone.”
“I can borrow Melissa's.”
“Honey.. there'll be people there. You know that, right?”
“I know, mom. I can handle it.”

Elizabeth ends up calling her mom 20 minutes after she's arrived, while Dora frantically tries to calm her down. It feels like everyone's staring at her, and this whole place is full of strangers, and she can't breathe properly, and all she wants to do is go home.

greencandle: im sorry
greencandle: really
greencandle: my parents dropped me on my head a lot
earthbound: you always say that
earthbound: but it's ok.
greencandle: i still feel really bad
earthbound: it's not your fault
earthbound: I just really haven't been.. out, in a while
greencandle: hey, no pressure
greencandle: really
greencandle: we'll do it on ur time

Elizabeth has just gotten off the phone with her mom – “sorry, honey, I have to stay late, but there are some left-overs in the fridge you can reheat. Put the microwave at 6 minutes or so. It has broccoli, so don't drink milk with it, that upsets your stomach, okay?” – when she remembers that she hasn't watched any of her aerobics videos in a while.
Her laptop's already open in her lap, an IM window with greencandle (offline) open. She torrents a generic video, doesn't bother to research while it downloads.
When it's done, she places her laptop on their dinner table and presses play.

It's.. okay, Elizabeth supposes, after watching in immobile silence for fifteen minutes. It doesn't quite excite her the way it used to. The whole thing seems a bit bland.
“And now, down on the floor,” the Sporty Sara on the computer screen suggests, “Come on, everybody join in!”
Elizabeth, purely for experimental purposes, does as she's told.

It's humiliating. She can't even do a single sit-up without breathing heavy, and Sporty Sara is practically tossing them left and right as she keeps yelling encouragements. They only continue with the floor-based exercises for another ten minutes, but Elizabeth finds herself rewinding that piece and trying desperately to keep up, taking a breather whenever they focus on the legs.
After 20 minutes, she's run ragged, but she feels inexplicably pleased with herself as she manages back into the chair and rolls to the bathroom to clean up.

It becomes a thing Elizabeth does, after her mother's left for work in the mornings, and the house still has that quiet, sleepy smell. She doesn't really ask herself why, knows she wouldn't be able to answer it anyway.

earthbound: so i'd like to try that meeting thing again
earthbound: if you don't mind
greencandle: not atall!
greencandle: when were u thinking?
earthbound: whenever, i don't really have plans.. what works for you?
greencandle: I could come pick u up
greencandle: n we could go to mine's
greencandle: if u want
earthbound: sure
earthbound: tomorrow?
greencandle: yep ;)

“You're pretty quiet.” Elizabeth startles, looking up from Dora's colorful rug. Her apartment is confusing, switching between overflowing and messy to almost spartan. (“My roommate moved out couple weeks back,” Dora says, later. “I can afford the rent by my own self now, but I'm not used to the extra space yet, you know?”)
“Sorry,” Elizabeth says.
“Oh, you know, nothing to apologize about,” Dora hurriedly adds. “I figure it's better than the mess we ended up in last time.”
Elizabeth nods, and rubs her finger along the edge of the tea cup. Dora had first offered the couch, but apologized when she remembered Elizabeth's wheelchair. Elizabeth was stunned she'd forgotten, too stunned to say she didn't really mind shifting over to sofas.
Now they're sitting by Dora's dining table, and that feeling in Elizabeth's stomach is burning brighter in Dora's presence, flaring up violently.
“I like chatting on the net,” Elizabeth says, suddenly. “It's.. easier.”
“I guess,” Dora replies, instinctively agreeing before she thinks it over. “No, wait, I dunno. I don't necessarily think so. So many things get lost when you try to communicate in text. Inflection of voice, facial expressions.. I read somewhere that's 95% of communication, or something. Body language, all that.”
“But on the net there are no obligations,” Elizabeth remarks. “You can just pull out of the conversation whenever. And you have all the time in the world to think about what you want to say.”
“Is that why you're so much more chatty there?” Dora's eyes are wide, imploring. Elizabeth feels uncomfortable, traces the familiarity of her palms to make it go away.
“Yeah. I end up so awkward in front of people, and, well..” She gestures down at the wheelchair. “People have a hard time not just seeing it.”
Dora nods, then pats Elizabeth's hands as she stands up. “Do you want some more tea?”


"Honey?" Elizabeth's reaching for a glass in the kitchen. It's bed time soon, and her mother is standing in the hallway.
"Yes, mom?"
"Your clothes seem.. bigger." Her mother gives her an almost criticizing stare, clinically scrutinizing. "Did something happen?"
Elizabeth starts, stops. Thinks. "No, mom. Not that I know of."
Her mother's lips tighten, before she reaches down to grasp Elizabeth's jaw. "No matter -- this is a wonderful excuse to take you shopping!" She drops a kiss at Elizabeth's forehead, and releases her. "Let's make a day out of it. Saturday's coming up, you're free then, right, honey?" She doesn't wait for Elizabeth to answer. "Of course you are. Great!"
Her mother bustles out, rejuvenated, and Elizabeth looks down at the empty glass in her hand. She puts it back in the cupboard, and goes to talk to Dora.

Elizabeth sees Saturday approach with something close to apathy. Her mother mentions it every chance she gets, reminiscing over their past city adventures. She also worries, worries that Elizabeth will be overwhelmed by the masses, promises that Elizabeth just has to say the word and they'll go back home. Elizabeth doesn't mention that Dora's helped her with that, that their weekly meetings have evolved into trying to make Elizabeth comfortable in public areas, that they now meet in parks and sleepy bakeries and sometimes even go to the cinema.
When Saturday finally arrives, and Elizabeth's mother tries to help her into the car, Elizabeth bats her hands away without thinking about it. Her mother stops, jarred, like a clockwork mechanism with debris stuck in the cogs.
The mall is full, and Elizabeth takes a moment to calm herself down when they enter. Her practice with Dora was always on a Wednesday afternoon, a slow day, not a busy Saturday morning. Her mother notices her hesitance. "You okay, hon?"
"Yeah, mom," Elizabeth says, and takes a deep breath. Her mother strokes a hand down her hair, and they venture into the first clothing store they find.

"Oh, honey, look at this!" Her mother's pulled out a flowery t-shirt, her forearms already hidden by layers of clothing Elizabeth has mentally rejected.
"Yeah, mom," she says, and feels a bit worse when her mother adds it to the pile. They're nearing the register when Elizabeth finally turns to her mom in line.
"Mom," she starts. Her mother's lost in her own thoughts, a family trait, but quickly snaps out of it with a painted smile.
"Yes?"
"I don't actually think I'd wear these."
Her mother frowns. "What do you mean?"
"I mean.." Elizabeth takes the pile from her mother's hands, puts it in her lap. "This. Any of this. I can't let you buy it if I'm not gonna use it."
"But, honey," her mother's frown deepens, "don't be silly. You've always worn stuff like this, you told me that."
"Mom--"
"You told me that."
"Mom, I know." Elizabeth feels irritation in the hunch of her shoulders, the unashamed stares of the passersby and other people waiting in line like a solid weight. "But that was senior year, okay? Seven years ago."
Her mom looks jarred again, like the pieces are rearranging themselves in a pattern she doesn't understand. She shakes her head. "Baby, this is silly. Whatever phase you're in--"
"It's not a phase, mom," and the words come out serrated, Elizabeth growing more uncomfortable by the second. "People change, and I have. I'm twenty-five now, not eighteen. Just-- let's put these back."
Her mother gets a lost look in her eyes, and Elizabeth almost thinks it looks like betrayal. "If you insist, honey."
They go home, and the only fresh receipt her mother has in her wallet is for two sandwiches at Subway.

Mondays at malls are much more quiet, Elizabeth notes with relief. The bus drive was unusual, a bit frightening in the same way all of this is, but not excruciating. She's painfully reminded of her lack of a steady companion every time she turns her head. There's no Dora to distract her with terrible jokes that make her laugh anyway, no mother to fuss and fret and talk to.
Still, there's a strange thrill as she picks out garments, and she has two full bags -- and a lot less hair -- to maneuver when she takes the bus home.

greencandle
: where this week?
earthbound: coffee shop?
greencandle: k
greencandle: pick u up @ regular time?
earthbound: yeah

Wednesday never seems to arrive. Elizabeth is excited, charged with an energy that almost crackles at her skin. She spends three hours picking out her outfit, avoiding her mother's watchful stare. She already had a few words to say about Elizabeth's hair cut, causing Elizabeth to grow silent, the resentment of being scolded like a child hard in her stomach. Something's off about this.

"Hey!" Dora looks cool, almost suave, as she holds the door open for Elizabeth to easy the entry to the coffee shop.
"Hi," Elizabeth says, feeling oddly nervous, like she isn't met by the same woman she's been talking to almost every day for months.
"How are you?" Dora asks, as they stand in line. She looks like she's contemplating a choice between the All-New Pumpkin Pie Mocha or her regular espresso. Dora's tastes have always been a little odd to Elizabeth.
"I'm fine," she says. "How are you?"
"Oh, this has been the weirdest. Week. Ever." Dora pauses for dramatic effect, which gets slightly ruined as she has to turn to the cashier and order in the mean-time. "Tyler, this guy at my job, managed to lose his owl in the office, and we searched high and low, but we still couldn't find it.."
They're settling down at their regular table, now, and Dora's still talking about Tyler and owls and mentioning her colleagues casually like Elizabeth should know who they are, and Elizabeth feels something like disappointment in her chest.
".. but enough about that," Dora finally says, seeming to have noticed that Elizabeth was focusing more on the date behind Dora's back. The girl was talking animatedly while eating her cake with enthusiasm, only stopping to laugh in an embarrassed tone as the guy wiped spittle off his chin.
"So, what's happened at your end?"
"Nothing much," Elizabeth answers, shy and angry with herself.
"Really? I noticed your hair cut, it looks nice."
"Thanks," Elizabeth says, and waits hopefully-- but then Dora starts talking again, something about how her pillow is always either too hot or too cold, and the disappointment sinks like a stone to her stomach.
"Is that it?" Elizabeth says, stopping Dora mid-rant.
"Sorry?"
"I said, is that it? Is that all you're going to say? 'It looks nice?'"
Dora looks like a deer caught in headlights, unable to find a reason for the generally taciturn Elizabeth to raise her voice.
"Don't you notice--" and Elizabeth's voice almost cracks, "anything else about me?"
"Well," Dora says, and the hesitation is Elizabeth's answer.
"I just don't--" she sighs, and wrings her hands over the wooden table. "I've gotten thinner."
"Oh, that," Dora says, and Elizabeth feels her hackles rise again.
"You're usually pretty loose-handed about the compliments," she says, feeling spiteful and demanding and out of character and disappointed. Didn't she do this for Dora? "Don't you think it looks good? Do you think I should go back to being a fatso?"
"Elizabeth," Dora says, but she doesn't sound liker Elizabeth's mother at all. "Eli, I'm sorry, of course it looks good."
Elizabeth doubts it, and Dora musts see it in her face.
"I--" Dora sighs, and flattens her hands against the table top. "Listen. I've never really cared about any of that, okay? It's just.. not something I think about a lot." She shrugs. "It doesn't matter to me whether you're fat or thin or something in between, as long as you don't die of obesity or malnourishment. I think you're beautiful because you're you, and what matters most to me isn't that I'm happy with how you look, it's that you're happy with how you look." She gives Elizabeth a glance, but Elizabeth is examining the worn coffee rug. Her cheeks are stained red. "Are you?"
"I guess," Elizabeth mumbles.
"What was that?" Dora says, leaning closer.
"I guess I am," Elizabeth repeats, looking up to meet Dora's familiar eyes.
Dora pulls a face, but it's over so soon Elizabeth almost didn't see it. "Then that should be enough."
The rest of the coffee date they both get to use their favorite small talk-topics; talking without really saying anything.

Over the next week, Dora's words won't quite leave Elizabeth's mind.
'If Dora wants me to do it for myself, I'll do it for myself!' is her resolution the first few days, until she thinks it over and realizes that that really doesn't resolve anything -- it just leads her back to square one.
The subject frustrates her, makes her even more quiet and almost curt when IMing with Dora.
There is one thing Elizabeth knows: she doesn't want to be defined by Dora.
She doesn't want to be defined by anyone but herself.

greencandle: sooo ive been googling some stuff
greencandle: u no u can live on ur own fine now??
earthbound: what?
greencandle: like http://boston.craigslist.org/gbs/nfb/2634545133.html
greencandle: a bit expensive tho
earthbound: what are you talking about?
greencandle: ther are like
greencandle: wheelchair freindly apartments or whatever
earthbound: what are you saying?
greencandle: nothin
greencandle[/b]: just, u dont have to live with ur mom
earthbound: isn't the way i'm living now good enough for you?
(Elizabeth means it jokingly, but the turbulence in her mind sharpens the words.)
greencandle: well, tbh
earthbound: what?
greencandle: seems kinda..
greencandle: unhealthy
greencandle: s'like u & ur mom have forgotten taht ur 2 people
greencandle: or at least
greencandle: she has
earthbound has logged off.
greencandle: so.. no coffee date this week then?
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Elizabeth's mind is like a stormy sea, a rippling effect caused by Dora and her stupid statements. She doesn't have the patience of mind for anything, even just a line of "hello world"-level code takes her fifteen minutes.
Elizabeth sighs, and pushes the wheelchair around in a circle. The afternoon sun is almost covered by drapes, like a temptress peeking through an almost closed door.
This is stupid, she thinks. All of this is completely, utterly, and fantastically stupid.
Elizabeth pushes the wheelchair into her own room, and digs under her bed until she find a worn, dusty DVD case, front proudly proclaiming that it will "Get you fit in 3 weeks!!!". She puts it in the DVD player slowly, almost wearily. She doesn't need these any more, not like she used to, but there is a certain debauched sense of thoughtlessness in them. She can just close her eyes and listen, pretend that she's someone else, somewhere else, with legs perfectly intact.
Then her mother comes home early, and Elizabeth is hit by a powerful sense of deja vu.
"Elizabeth!"
Elizabeth slowly turns around, having not even bothered to pretend to reach for the remote.
"Yes, mom?"
Her mom looks furious. "I thought you were over this-- this-- this!" In lack of a word, she throws an arm out towards the still blasting TV. "Turn it off, for God's sake!"
Elizabeth shrugs, and is about to reach for the remote: "Why?"
"Well--" her mom splutters again, the unexpected turn of events throwing her off. "It's unhealthy!"
Elizabeth shrinks back in her seat, but doesn't let the apologies stuck in her throat out.
"I mean," her mother continues, "you're obviously projecting your feelings over your legs on this-- this!" Again, she can't find the words, and throws her arm out. "It's definitely not healthy, you're hindering your recovery, and--"
"I don't think I am, mom," Elizabeth says, and she's become way too calm in an effort to keep her emotions in check.
"What?" her mother says, and Elizabeth finally turns the television off.
"I don't think I am," she repeats, and something in her voice seems to calm her mother.
"Elizabeth," her mother tries. "Look, I know you think that, but I've read that stuff like this is unhealthy, I asked a psychologist and he said--"
"You asked a psychologist?" Elizabeth says, all the other words passing by her. "You asked a psychologist about me?"
"Well, " her mother says, and now she just looks uncomfortable, still red from the fury of a few moments earlier. "I didn't-- I needed--" she looks away, like this is something that pains her to admit. "We were both going through a tough time, and I didn't know how to help you."
"Mom," Elizabeth says in a faint tone, floored. "Mom, you stupid, stupid woman."
She didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for it to sound like it did, but her mother's face is splotched in red again, and she spits out: "Forget it." She goes over to the television, extracts the DVD with shaking fingers, and breaks it straight down the middle. She throws the two pieces on the floor. "This is my house," Elizabeth's mother says. "This is my house, and you are my daughter, and you will listen to me. I'm doing what's best for you."
"Mom," Elizabeth tries again, but her mother is already leaving the room.
Elizabeth is left staring at the broken DVD, wondering when her mother became human.

Things are stilted, after that. An eerie quietness cloaks the walls, becomes their new tapestry. Her mother's wrinkles are more apparent than ever, and Elizabeth absently notes that she knows what to get her for Christmas.
She tries to reach out, but isn't sure how. Her mother's image is shaken, cracked, and she suspects that her mother feels the same way. The uncomfortable and abrupt way they both have to adapt to the other being someone else than they thought isn't doing them any favors, but Elizabeth feels more grown up than she ever has when she quietly reaches a conclusion to a question she didn't know she was pondering.

greencandle: eli
greencandle: youre back
greencandle: listen, im sorry
earthbound: you were right, I think
greencandle: I was out of line
greencandle: wait, what?
earthbound: I dunno
earthbound: everything is really weird right now
earthbound: but I think I really need to move out
earthbound: could you give me that url again?

Packing her things is a weird experience Elizabeth doesn't want to dwell on, but Dora helps her, and when Dora holds up the door for Elizabeth to enter the spartan thing that will become her apartment, Elizabeth has another sudden realization. She's getting quite tired of them, she thinks, but doesn't really mind that she's finally figured out what it is about Dora.
"This is lovely!" Dora says, coming up to stand beside her, and Eli turns to the side, pulls her down and kisses her.
Dora looks shocked, but a smile breaks out on her face. "I've been waiting."
"I know," Eli says. She laces their fingers together, and meets Dora's eyes without fear. "Thanks."

(It ends like a fairy tale, except not quite. They each have issues, independently and together, but for now, all that is still below the surface. And finally, there are no more dreams of maggots.)

"Hey, mom." Elizabeth is by the door of her old room. Her mother is sitting on the bed, and hurriedly dabs at her eyes when she hears a voice.
"Hey, sweetie," and even if Elizabeth could ignore the red eyes, her mother's voice gives her away.
"Are you alright?" Elizabeth rolls with ease into the room, the threshold long since removed.
"Yeah, I'm--" her mother waves a hand half-heartedly, "I'm fine."
Elizabeth quietly moves over to the bed, to sit beside her. She wraps an arm around her mother, feels odd about adapting the role of caretaker when it's always been the other way around with them.
"It's okay, mom," she says, and her mother turns towards her almost imperceptibly. "It's okay."
They sit there, holding each other in silence, before her mother stands up reluctantly. "I should go, I have--"
"Yeah," Elizabeth says, "okay."
Her mother is going, almost out the door when Elizabeth says: "Mom? You should call Riley up sometime. He's your son."
Elizabeth's mother flinches, and leaves without another word.
Elizabeth sighs, but a knock on the window distracts her from expressing further disappointment. On the other side is Dora, carrying knick-knacks Elizabeth forgot when packing, making a face that Elizabeth can't help but laugh at. Dora smiles, mouths something before continuing past it.
Elizabeth doesn't need to hear it to know what it was.
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SazhRan S. Prosper
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Re: C:\Users\SazhRan\Documents\Stories\Awesome.txt

Innlegg Eàmané Wesenberg » 02 Nov 2011 00:04

Wow. Du er sinnsykt flink til å fange stemningen og sånt. Du har dybde i historiene dine. Me gusta <3
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Hello, my name is Kami
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Eàmané Wesenberg
Trollmannsjakkmesteren
 
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Re: C:\Users\SazhRan\Documents\Stories\Awesome.txt

Innlegg SazhRan S. Prosper » 02 Nov 2011 23:47

TAKK KAMI. Du gjør meg alltid så glad, som gidder å lese de lange tøvete greiene mine og attpåtil komplimentere etterpå. <3
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SazhRan S. Prosper
Andreklasse trollmann/heks
 
Innlegg: 34
Registrert: 14 Des 2008 13:39


Re: C:\Users\SazhRan\Documents\Stories\Awesome.txt

Innlegg Eàmané Wesenberg » 03 Nov 2011 00:24

SazhRan S. Prosper skrev:TAKK KAMI. Du gjør meg alltid så glad, som gidder å lese de lange tøvete greiene mine og attpåtil komplimentere etterpå. <3

Jeg leser alltid hele når jeg ser at det er du som har skrevet, for du skriver alltid bra <3
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Hello, my name is Kami
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Eàmané Wesenberg
Trollmannsjakkmesteren
 
Innlegg: 4982
Registrert: 14 Des 2008 13:44
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