Prompt: Winona, Frank - Goodbye, Little Dream, Goodbye
Goodbye and Hello
″Come on, Winnie. One dinner, just the two of us.″
Winona hesitated, indecision written clearly across her face. She hated the nickname Frank teased her with, but arguing with his over it wouldn't change his penchant for using it when he was trying to wear her down on something.
″Please?″ The entreaty in his voice was enticing. She was so used to being needed to ″do this″ and ″be that″ and ″go there″ that someone who wanted to do something for her was appealing.
Since their introduction through a mutual friend two months ago, Frank had slowly been warming her to him with small offers of help, amusing comm conversations in the evening, and offers to take her out to a quiet dinner. So far she'd found excuses to avoid the dates, but he was slowly wearing her down by taking her refusals in stride and tirelessly trying again.
Winona wasn't sure why she refused, some days. She hadn't been out in so long, and she knew that she needed a change. But to take that step was an admission that she was finally moving on. That she was finally admitting that the dream she harbored was just that – a dream.
She'd cherished it, deep in her heart, far away from the logic and reason that she was forced to allow rule over her days simply to meet the demands of her life. The fantasy that she savored in the early morning when she could see the brightness of the sun through her closed eyelids as she resisted the start of the day and the crash back to reality.
In that dream, instead of lying in bed alone, George was next to her, curled against her back with his morning stubble scraping across her bare shoulders as he laughed and kissed her. He was there in the morning to reinforce her insistence to Sam that chocolate chip waffles were not the only acceptable breakfast food and that teachers are meant to be obeyed. He was there to grin at Jim's childish attempts to be just like his big brother and catch him as he tried to sneak on the bus and go to school too.
And in her dream, George was there and she could savor how much both of her boys grew to look like him more and more with each passing day rather than have to restrain tears that they would never really be able to see the resemblance in person.
She wasn't sure she was ready to abandon the dream, but she wasn't sure how long she could go on with that dream holding her in place, either.
She sighed, and made a snap decision, the first in a very long while.
″Alright, Frank. Let's go to Max's. I'll find a sitter and let you know what time to pick me up.″