Slough, 1977
Aug. 21st, 2013 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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birthright_rpgHeadlights illuminate the form of a girl. She's sitting on some steps in front of a row house, playing with the ends of her hair. She's dyed pink streaks through her brunette locks, and she's wearing a mini shift dress with matching neon pink tights. Her mother throws up her hands, tired of wardrobe arguments.
A man exits the car, slamming his door a little too hard. A dog barks two houses away. A sixteen year old Holly's expression is passive as she watches him approach her. "You're late," she says, and the words come out as a sigh, the hair in her fingers puffing out.
"I'm aware of that, Holiday." Gregory Pirner is weary. This scenario has played out before. His daughter, sullen-faced, recriminating eyes. He was trying. He could have canceled this weekend, could have been resting, but.
"Were you aware of it an hour and a half ago?" Holly stands, one foot on the step, the other on the ground, slender arms folded. But she is happy to see him, and that makes her angry. That he makes her happy to see him because it has become that rare, when all she wants is to hate him for making her wait.
Greg rubs his eyes. He has been up since 3 am this morning. "Is your mother here?"
Holly smiles meanly, taking a step toward him. "She doesn't want to see you." She examines her fingernails. "She thinks you're fucking someone."
"Holiday!"
His voice is sharp, a father's voice. Her mask falters a little. "Don't talk that way to me. You are still my daughter."
They get in the car, buckling their seat belts. Holly reaches for the radio. Her hand pauses in midair when she realizes he has already put it on her favorite station. A twist in the stomach.
When they pull up to a restaurant, she reverts back to her earlier self. "You're taking me to Pizza Express? You really do think I'm still 6 years old, don't you?" The truth is, she loves Pizza Express. She loves the way her dad orders them the mushroom pizza, even though he hates them. He picks them off and Holly eats them.
Gregory pulls the chair out for her and she pulls a face. Glances around to make sure no one who matters is there. Now her stomach is sinking like a stone. Three girls at one of the arcade games. Fuck. Me.
He orders for them. Mushroom pizza, bread sticks, the good kind with the greasy garlic stuff. Holly takes a trembling sip of iced water. Tries to make herself small. It's no good. They see her.
"Oi, Holly. Who's this?" The girl in the middle speaks with a smirk etched across her face. Large hoop earrings, too large for her face, hair teased mercilessly. "On to a new man already? I knew you liked them older, but hell."
Gregory glances bemusedly between these girls and his daughter. Holly's face is flushing hotly, her hand gripping the glass of water.
"Just make sure, for me, that he's not someone else's boyfriend before you shag him, yeah?" The girls turn heel and walk away. Holly lets out a breath she hasn't realized she was holding.
"Go on, then. Say something. Tell me you're disappointed. Tell me they'd better be having a laugh." Holly stares daggers at him.
He is staring at his menu. He is frantically searching for something to say. Something that won't make her hate him. Something that will make her his Holiday again. "What do you think of the chocolate sundae for dessert?"
She blinks, then scowls at him. Holly shoves back her chair and stalks out of the restaurant, the trailing scent of her mother's perfume, the bottle she borrowed and forgot to give back, throwing Greg off for a moment.
He follows her outside. She's sitting on the curb, rubbing harshly at her eyes. Holly wasn't going to cry. Why should she cry?
She stops when she sees a cigarette enter her field of vision. He's offering her a cigarette. Holly takes it with a confused look. Gregory sits next to his daughter, lighting her cigarette with a plain white Bic.
"Her boyfriend?"
Holly nods, taking a long drag. "He's nice. A little thick, but nice. He got held back, so he was in my maths class. We went on a few dates." She looks away, her cheeks still tinted red.
"These things will happen. But you just have to decide." Greg smiles.
"Decide what?"
"If you're going to let it get to you. Holiday -- Holly, life isn't easy. Sometimes we want something that might be bad for us. Sometimes it just feels right. And while not easy, it is short, and. Well, I understand. You aren't a kid anymore."
She watches the spirals of smoke lift above them, and dissipate into the night. Holly smiles. "Okay."
Then, "No! Don't do that!" She stands again, towering over him.
Reaching his limit, he tosses his own cigarette into the gutter. "What, Holly? What exactly am I doing that's just so horrible? Because I think I'm being bloody understanding about this whole...stage you're going through."
Holly rolls her eyes. "Stop trying to make me love you."
That stings. She means it to. "I'm not supposed to have to try."
"That's exactly my point! You don't try. You do fuck all. You cancel every other weekend I'm supposed to see you. When you do have me over, you shut yourself up and work. Or you say you're doing work, because who the hell knows, right?"
She's crying now. She cries when she's angry, and she hates that.
"One day you'll understand. I promise."
"When?"
Gregory closes his eyes, wishing he still had that cigarette. They were the last two in the pack. "I can't tell you that."
Holly shakes her head, the fight going out of her. "Then do me a favor. Don't promise me anything." Still, she feels sorry for him. She can see he's tired, can see he's getting old. There is white in his hair and she doesn't like it. Doesn't like how time is falling away from them.
"Come back inside with me. I'm hungry."
A man exits the car, slamming his door a little too hard. A dog barks two houses away. A sixteen year old Holly's expression is passive as she watches him approach her. "You're late," she says, and the words come out as a sigh, the hair in her fingers puffing out.
"I'm aware of that, Holiday." Gregory Pirner is weary. This scenario has played out before. His daughter, sullen-faced, recriminating eyes. He was trying. He could have canceled this weekend, could have been resting, but.
"Were you aware of it an hour and a half ago?" Holly stands, one foot on the step, the other on the ground, slender arms folded. But she is happy to see him, and that makes her angry. That he makes her happy to see him because it has become that rare, when all she wants is to hate him for making her wait.
Greg rubs his eyes. He has been up since 3 am this morning. "Is your mother here?"
Holly smiles meanly, taking a step toward him. "She doesn't want to see you." She examines her fingernails. "She thinks you're fucking someone."
"Holiday!"
His voice is sharp, a father's voice. Her mask falters a little. "Don't talk that way to me. You are still my daughter."
They get in the car, buckling their seat belts. Holly reaches for the radio. Her hand pauses in midair when she realizes he has already put it on her favorite station. A twist in the stomach.
When they pull up to a restaurant, she reverts back to her earlier self. "You're taking me to Pizza Express? You really do think I'm still 6 years old, don't you?" The truth is, she loves Pizza Express. She loves the way her dad orders them the mushroom pizza, even though he hates them. He picks them off and Holly eats them.
Gregory pulls the chair out for her and she pulls a face. Glances around to make sure no one who matters is there. Now her stomach is sinking like a stone. Three girls at one of the arcade games. Fuck. Me.
He orders for them. Mushroom pizza, bread sticks, the good kind with the greasy garlic stuff. Holly takes a trembling sip of iced water. Tries to make herself small. It's no good. They see her.
"Oi, Holly. Who's this?" The girl in the middle speaks with a smirk etched across her face. Large hoop earrings, too large for her face, hair teased mercilessly. "On to a new man already? I knew you liked them older, but hell."
Gregory glances bemusedly between these girls and his daughter. Holly's face is flushing hotly, her hand gripping the glass of water.
"Just make sure, for me, that he's not someone else's boyfriend before you shag him, yeah?" The girls turn heel and walk away. Holly lets out a breath she hasn't realized she was holding.
"Go on, then. Say something. Tell me you're disappointed. Tell me they'd better be having a laugh." Holly stares daggers at him.
He is staring at his menu. He is frantically searching for something to say. Something that won't make her hate him. Something that will make her his Holiday again. "What do you think of the chocolate sundae for dessert?"
She blinks, then scowls at him. Holly shoves back her chair and stalks out of the restaurant, the trailing scent of her mother's perfume, the bottle she borrowed and forgot to give back, throwing Greg off for a moment.
He follows her outside. She's sitting on the curb, rubbing harshly at her eyes. Holly wasn't going to cry. Why should she cry?
She stops when she sees a cigarette enter her field of vision. He's offering her a cigarette. Holly takes it with a confused look. Gregory sits next to his daughter, lighting her cigarette with a plain white Bic.
"Her boyfriend?"
Holly nods, taking a long drag. "He's nice. A little thick, but nice. He got held back, so he was in my maths class. We went on a few dates." She looks away, her cheeks still tinted red.
"These things will happen. But you just have to decide." Greg smiles.
"Decide what?"
"If you're going to let it get to you. Holiday -- Holly, life isn't easy. Sometimes we want something that might be bad for us. Sometimes it just feels right. And while not easy, it is short, and. Well, I understand. You aren't a kid anymore."
She watches the spirals of smoke lift above them, and dissipate into the night. Holly smiles. "Okay."
Then, "No! Don't do that!" She stands again, towering over him.
Reaching his limit, he tosses his own cigarette into the gutter. "What, Holly? What exactly am I doing that's just so horrible? Because I think I'm being bloody understanding about this whole...stage you're going through."
Holly rolls her eyes. "Stop trying to make me love you."
That stings. She means it to. "I'm not supposed to have to try."
"That's exactly my point! You don't try. You do fuck all. You cancel every other weekend I'm supposed to see you. When you do have me over, you shut yourself up and work. Or you say you're doing work, because who the hell knows, right?"
She's crying now. She cries when she's angry, and she hates that.
"One day you'll understand. I promise."
"When?"
Gregory closes his eyes, wishing he still had that cigarette. They were the last two in the pack. "I can't tell you that."
Holly shakes her head, the fight going out of her. "Then do me a favor. Don't promise me anything." Still, she feels sorry for him. She can see he's tired, can see he's getting old. There is white in his hair and she doesn't like it. Doesn't like how time is falling away from them.
"Come back inside with me. I'm hungry."