Yeah. Like, so many people say they have trouble remembering their childhood in detail, so you expect it to fade. But I didn't realise...
[ It was like their memories had gone through the wash far too many times, turning worn-out and threadbare and flimsy. For the past near-three decades, Ben had only remembered vaguenesses and generalities: He had been fat, yes. He had been bullied. Only one person had signed his yearbook. These were the immutable facts that he'd carried with him, like the barest outline of a drawing, but he'd never filled in all the colours and details until now.
When the waitess comes over, he orders hot cocoa with whipped cream — fuck it — and then asks for a little more time to decide on the food. The waitress rolls her eyes, takes Bev's drink order, leaves again. They still have so much to catch up on; he isn't really ready to turn his attention aside from Bev's voice just yet. ]
My mom's still back in Nebraska, close to her sister. Working in the mills did a number on her lungs, so her health... isn't really the greatest. She never talked much about Derry, either, and I didn't notice. It was almost like our existence didn't actually start until we moved to Hemingford, despite the fact that I once would've said, without a doubt, that the time with you guys was the most important time of my life. And obviously I knew I'd lived in Maine before then, but...
[ He trails off. Finally just echoes her: ]
It's weird. And kind of ironic that we both moved away to stay with our aunts, huh?
[ When Ben orders a hot chocolate, Beverly asks for the same on wild impulse. She hasn't treated herself to something so indulgent in ages — real sugar, real milk, Tom would have something snide to say — but if they're revisiting their childhoods then may as well go all in. She shares a secretive little smile with the man across from her, like this is as thrilling as sneaking out of the inn after hours. Not everything about coming home has to be bad, surely.
Her memories of Mrs Hanscom are foggy, just like everything else, but there's a warmth that settles in the centre of her chest listening to Ben talk about her. Maybe because she has nothing of her own mother — Elfrida Marsh's absence is a memory that never needed erasing for Beverly. All she has is one creased, sunlit photo unearthed by her aunt of a woman with hair like her daughter's and a smile that always seemed a little sad to her. Or perhaps she's projecting. Is that why her father was always —
(so angry)
— so distant? ]
Guess Derry just wasn't the place for us. [ It's her hometown. But she doesn't feel that loss or any kind of loyalty; no, that's reserved for the Losers. It's relieving to hear Ben give shape to that feeling. ] But I'm not so sure anywhere was. Can't exactly say I'm happy in New York but I could never figure out why. I mean, apart from — [ She falters, cheeks colouring, and looks at the scar on her palm instead of the bruises circling her wrist. ] Something was always missing and it's like a part of me knew, somehow. Then it all clicked at the Jade. Or at least... some of it.
[ She smiles briefly. ]
No one else in my life fits the way you guys do.
[ Kay comes closest. But not her husband. Never. ]
Kind of feels like a waste. That we only had it for such a short period of time, and then we had to go twenty-seven years without, and with a piece of ourselves missing this whole time. Feels unfair.
[ You could argue that maybe it stung less, when you didn't even know what you were missing. But of course they had all felt it, even if they didn't understand why: the ragged edge where something was gone. Where something had been cut loose from them; surprisingly neatly and the wound long-since sutured over, but still missing nonetheless.
He's looking down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting over the menu. ]
I'm upstate. Back in New York, I mean. Just a couple hours from you. Weird to think that we've been so close to each other the whole time and never knew it, huh?
[ Ben tries a laugh; hopes it doesn't sound too strained, or too awkward, or too caught in his throat. ]
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-11-29 06:49 am (UTC)[ It was like their memories had gone through the wash far too many times, turning worn-out and threadbare and flimsy. For the past near-three decades, Ben had only remembered vaguenesses and generalities: He had been fat, yes. He had been bullied. Only one person had signed his yearbook. These were the immutable facts that he'd carried with him, like the barest outline of a drawing, but he'd never filled in all the colours and details until now.
When the waitess comes over, he orders hot cocoa with whipped cream — fuck it — and then asks for a little more time to decide on the food. The waitress rolls her eyes, takes Bev's drink order, leaves again. They still have so much to catch up on; he isn't really ready to turn his attention aside from Bev's voice just yet. ]
My mom's still back in Nebraska, close to her sister. Working in the mills did a number on her lungs, so her health... isn't really the greatest. She never talked much about Derry, either, and I didn't notice. It was almost like our existence didn't actually start until we moved to Hemingford, despite the fact that I once would've said, without a doubt, that the time with you guys was the most important time of my life. And obviously I knew I'd lived in Maine before then, but...
[ He trails off. Finally just echoes her: ]
It's weird. And kind of ironic that we both moved away to stay with our aunts, huh?
no subject
Date: 2020-12-20 01:25 pm (UTC)Her memories of Mrs Hanscom are foggy, just like everything else, but there's a warmth that settles in the centre of her chest listening to Ben talk about her. Maybe because she has nothing of her own mother — Elfrida Marsh's absence is a memory that never needed erasing for Beverly. All she has is one creased, sunlit photo unearthed by her aunt of a woman with hair like her daughter's and a smile that always seemed a little sad to her. Or perhaps she's projecting. Is that why her father was always —
(so angry)
— so distant? ]
Guess Derry just wasn't the place for us. [ It's her hometown. But she doesn't feel that loss or any kind of loyalty; no, that's reserved for the Losers. It's relieving to hear Ben give shape to that feeling. ] But I'm not so sure anywhere was. Can't exactly say I'm happy in New York but I could never figure out why. I mean, apart from — [ She falters, cheeks colouring, and looks at the scar on her palm instead of the bruises circling her wrist. ] Something was always missing and it's like a part of me knew, somehow. Then it all clicked at the Jade. Or at least... some of it.
[ She smiles briefly. ]
No one else in my life fits the way you guys do.
[ Kay comes closest. But not her husband. Never. ]
no subject
Date: 2020-12-28 09:58 pm (UTC)[ You could argue that maybe it stung less, when you didn't even know what you were missing. But of course they had all felt it, even if they didn't understand why: the ragged edge where something was gone. Where something had been cut loose from them; surprisingly neatly and the wound long-since sutured over, but still missing nonetheless.
He's looking down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting over the menu. ]
I'm upstate. Back in New York, I mean. Just a couple hours from you. Weird to think that we've been so close to each other the whole time and never knew it, huh?
[ Ben tries a laugh; hopes it doesn't sound too strained, or too awkward, or too caught in his throat. ]