I do not own American Horror Story: Freakshow.
And really, we aren't even in Freakshow territory anymore, are we?
The Lost Orphan Boy and The Daughter of the Jupiter Freaks
On the Upswing
Things got so much better, in fact, that Annabel was suddenly proposing . . .
What?
. . . marriage . . .
Really?
. . . to him.
He had proposed when she had told him she was pregnant.
She had accepted.
". . . because I love you."
"And because I'm pregnant."
"Yes."
"Yes."
And he had meant it.
But then things had kind of gone awry . . .
". . . Florida . . ."
. . . and they hadn't actually done the deed yet.
Well, they had done that deed, they had done that deed a lot, and that was the entire reason they were here now at all.
But the other deed, the marriage deed, the one he had proposed and she had accepted and then not completed, that deed was the deed they hadn't done.
And now . . .
". . . house and get married."
. . . she had just brought it right back.
Right there in front of her Moms and Dad.
Right at supper.
Right there in the mashed potatoes . . .
Um, yeah. I mean, yes.
. . . and gravy.
Which was the exact right move actually.
Because while running off to the courthouse and filling out the paperwork and having a magistrate say the words and send them on their way would have been just fine . . .
Will she take my last name?
I guess that's not very modern.
. . . Annabel's dad already . . .
"Sure."
. . . with his nonchalant shrug and a casually gesturing hook . . .
"You guys can do that if you want."
. . . had a better idea.
"We can also do, like, a real wedding."
A real wedding?
"You know, in the backyard. That's what Lucy and Dan did for us. It was really nice."
Patrick knew the story; Bette and Dot had told him one day over some sort of baking.
Chosen family.
Chosen friends.
Love. Happiness.
Hope.
Union.
Foreverness.
Even some sort of handmade arch and traditional music.
That, Patrick thought, . . .
Wow.
. . . that would be amazing.
Annabel didn't.
". . . dead."
Well, yes, Annabel, that's sad, I wish I could have met him, he sounded very nice but . . .
So much so she ended up running back to the bathroom again.
Oh no.
And he thought maybe they'd just drop the whole thing.
Please don't do this again.
Before she did her thing again.
I'll do anything.
And everything went to hell.
Please don't.
Again.
Her mothers, beautiful ladies they were, . . .
"Don't you worry about Annabel, darling."
"It's the hormones."
. . . seemed to put on brave faces.
"She'll get better."
"She'll come around."
Offer comfort to his concern.
"And then you two can get married."
"Any old way you want."
And determinedly move right on . . .
"Thank you. I appreciate that."
. . . with their . . .
"You're welcome, Patrick, darling. More chicken fried steak?"
. . . evening meal.
And then nobody said anything about it anymore.
Over dessert.
Over Mama's Family.
Over 'good nights, darlings' and 'we love you, dears'.
Not even . . .
"Good night, Patrick."
"Good night, Annabel."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
. . . over actual bedtime.
Or breakfast.
Or lunch.
Or the next day's events.
And so it went for a few more days.
A holding pattern.
Like a snake handler caught within the spitting sway of a hooded cobra.
Everyone just went right on with their lives.
While Patrick waited for the other shoe to drop.
Even though it wasn't the shoe . . .
"So my moms want to have my old preacher marry us. Like, in a church and everything."
. . . he had expected.
"Really?"
"Yeah. Crazy, huh?"
No, not really.
"I think it sounds nice."
"But it's stupid . . ."
I love you, Annabel.
But I'm beginning to think I need to buy you a dictionary.
". . . church in forever . . ."
Church.
He knew that story too.
Her futile desperation to find meaning and importance in a religion that could not make her feel whole and accepted, quell the simmering rage she felt at her supposed freakdom.
". . . already pregnant, and we don't even have bridesmaids or anything!"
Patrick's gentle hands stroking peaceful Sam's scruffy fur.
"Why is that stupid? To let people do nice things for you?"
It's okay to let people love you, Annabel.
You're even more lovable when you do.
". . . care, why should they? I don't even belong here; I haven't for years . . ."
You don't stop existing to people just because they can't see you.
". . . Miss Priss either. Why would they even care?!"
Maybe they just do.
"I don't think it's a facade. I think they feel like you belong. Your parents are different enough that I think of they didn't want to, they'd just ignore your family or do bad things to them."
Not that your dad would let them.
"I mean, it just seems nice, Annabel. There's nothing wrong with nice."
But she still seemed . . .
Why can't you see yourself as others see you?
. . . doubtful.
And that was the moment he decided it was time to pull out what he had been carrying around . . .
"I know we already agreed to get married."
. . . for almost a week.
"But we didn't do everything."
Maybe it'll make her feel like we can be happy.
"Annabel, . . ."
So he got down one knee again.
". . . will you marry me?"
This time . . .
"Oh, Patrick."
. . . with a ring.
"You didn't have to."
And a little hope for her hope.
"I know."
That indomitable thing.
"But I wanted to."
And everything seemed to be . . .
"I love you, Patrick."
"I love you too, Annabel."
. . . okay.
He thanked Annabel's dad.
". . . pick out a ring with me, Mr. Walker."
The old guy smiled.
"Jimmy."
"Jimmy."
Corrected him yet again.
And then . . .
". . . glad you both are happier."
"Me too. Thank you. Jimmy."
"There ya go."
Then the older man bought him a cream soda.
"You're doing alright, Patrick. I'm proud of you."
And Patrick, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a dad, . . .
Thank you.
"Thank you."
. . . drank it.
Back again with a little more hope and positivity here.
Thank you for reading and I hope you are well.
And thanks to MidnightRebellion86 and DinahRay for previously reviewing.
:)
