Hey hey, everyone! Family's finally done visiting, so I can get back to focusing!
Chapter 27 - Men and Women
To say that Gracie's cooking was the most delicious thing Marilyn had ever tasted would probably be a bit of an understatement. She was particularly partial to something that Gracie had called brahmin bourguignon. Marilyn had no idea what a brahmin was, or a bourguignon for that matter, but it appeared to be some sort of meaty red stew. It made nutrient paste seem like a crime against humanity by comparison.
It had taken a while for Gracie to suddenly burst from the kitchen carrying all of these plates full of pretty elaborate-looking dishes. At least a good hour. Marilyn and Dick hadn't talked much throughout that hour. They chatted briefly, pondering what Billy could be busying himself with upstairs knowing that he didn't sleep, before they soon fell to silence.
Normally, Marilyn wouldn't have given that much thought. She and Dick had known each other for so long, accompanied each other so often, that sometimes conversations would simply fade away to a comfortable silence. But this silence was different. Wary. Tense. She still struggled to follow the course of their relationship ever since leaving the Vault. It was clearly different, that much had been established. But exactly how it was different remained to be seen.
Before Gracie had emerged from the kitchen, excitedly babbling about something called a tato, her thoughts had been on what Dick had told her. Did she really never ask him what he was thinking about? That couldn't be right. She knew she had a tendency to overthink and get caught up in her own head, but surely not to such a stark extent that she ignored her best friend. Right?
A knee nudging pointedly against hers under the table drew her attention back to the present. Marilyn blinked her thoughts away, realizing she'd been staring absently across the table at Dick's chin. Her blue eyes quickly flicked up to meet his brown ones, and he raised a curious brow in response before giving his head a slight nod. She followed the subtle gesture to look at Gracie, who was watching her expectantly. Marilyn just looked back cluelessly.
"Ahem, if you're done ogling your boyfriend," Gracie cleared her throat patiently, "I said, what did you think of the meal?"
"Oh! Um…" Marilyn quickly sat up, already blushing, "It was really good! I liked the brahmin bo… bor… uhh, stew thing."
"Ah, the bourguignon!" Gracie smiled, "A wasteland adaptation of my specialty. That dish won me a Blue Ribbon and two Michelin stars, you know!"
"I don't know what either of those things are, but it definitely deserved them," Marilyn smiled back, still feeling a little frazzled.
Gracie looked quite pleased with herself, and appropriately so, before she put her hands on her hips and looked between Marilyn and Dick.
"Now, which of you two will be helping me with the dishes?" She asked cheerfully.
Marilyn and Dick quickly exchanged glances. Obviously, neither of them really wanted to. But Marilyn stood up anyway.
"I'll do it," She told Gracie.
"We can both help," Dick said as he began to get up.
"No," Marilyn looked over at him, "You just relax."
"What?" Dick furrowed his brow, standing up anyway, "But it'll go faster if we both–"
"Dick," Marilyn frowned, cutting him off, "Just sit back down, would you?"
Dick blinked at her and hesitantly retook his seat, looking uncertain. That made Marilyn's heart hurt. Maybe she really was that self-absorbed, after all, if he believed she couldn't even wash dishes without needing his help. She frowned at the thought and turned to Gracie.
"I'd be happy to help you, Mrs. DeLaney," She offered as she slipped out of the booth.
Marilyn could feel Dick watching her all the way until the kitchen door closed, but pretended not to notice. She also pretended not to notice the glances Gracie would pass her way every now and again. They continued working in silence for a good five minutes before Gracie cleared her throat.
"So…" She began, "I take it your lunch date didn't go well?"
Marilyn frowned and slumped her shoulders, barely even feeling herself blush at the 'date' remark this time. She felt morose.
"I'm a terrible friend," She mumbled, looking down.
Gracie was quiet for a moment, before she gave a breathy chuckle.
"You know, Will said the exact same thing after showing up an hour late to our first date," She said quietly.
Marilyn's gaze quickly snapped up to the ghoul at that.
"Y-You mean, you two… dated…?" She blinked.
"You seem so surprised," Gracie smiled, "Most people find it obvious."
"I'm, um… I'm not very good at seeing those sorts of things," Marilyn admitted.
"Well, not much came of it, anyway," Gracie shrugged her shoulders slightly, "Will and I decided we were better off as just friends in the end. And then I met Brian…"
"Brian?" Marilyn cocked her head to the side, not recognizing the name.
"Brian DeLaney," Gracie smiled before waving a hand, "Oh, he was such a dreamboat back then. I had butterflies from the first time he smiled at me!"
"What's butterflies?" Marilyn blinked at her obliviously.
"Well, not literal butterflies," Gracie clarified, "It's just… a fluttering sort of feeling in the stomach. From excitement or nerves."
Marilyn instinctively moved a hand to her chest, recalling that blooming feeling she got sometimes when she was with Dick. So, there was a word for that. Butterflies.
"What's it supposed to mean?" She asked cautiously.
"Usually, it means that you're in love," Gracie sighed wistfully.
Marilyn felt herself fully blush at this and she looked down, focusing herself intently on scrubbing the pot in front of her. Gracie watched her for a moment before humming.
"You should tell him how you feel," She said at last, "I don't think he knows."
"I find that hard to believe," Marilyn mumbled, stealing a glance up.
"You underestimate how bad men are at understanding how women feel," Gracie chuckled, "Take it from a woman who was married for over a hundred years."
"A hundred years?" Marilyn turned to her, "Does that mean he's a ghoul too? Your husband?"
"He was, yes," Gracie nodded before reaching for a box of Abraxo cleaner.
"...Was?" Marilyn frowned.
Gracie was quiet for a moment before nodding.
"Brian had become quite unwell, in his mind, these last few years," Gracie explained somberly, "Back at the start of this summer, he'd had an... Incident, with a guest. He was confused and attacked them, and was shot in turn. He… He died."
"Oh, Mrs. DeLaney, I'm so sorry," Marilyn looked down, "I didn't know–"
"It's quite alright," Gracie gave a bittersweet smile, "I got to be with my husband for longer than most people get to be alive, after all."
"Even so…" Marilyn mumbled.
She felt terribly awkward about bringing it up at all. Gracie, for her part, still had that bittersweet smile. Like she was nostalgic. No doubt remembering a century's worth of happy memories. It only made Marilyn feel worse and she returned to scrubbing. But then Gracie's hand gently set on her shoulder and she looked up.
"Not everyone is so 'lucky' as to become a ghoul, Miss Marilyn," Gracie said with just a hint of sarcasm, before adding more seriously, "You won't get a century with him, you know."
"I… I know," Marilyn glanced aside.
"So why waste any more of your time than you have to?"
Marilyn bit her lip nervously, face growing warmer at the thought. Gracie did have a point. She definitely wasn't going to live forever. That was the very first thing she'd learned upon leaving the Vault. Well, after learning that sand was a huge disappointment and that she doesn't like the ocean after all. But despite all of that, she was still afraid of what Dick would say. Especially with the recent revelations in mind.
"But… what if he doesn't also…" Marilyn interlaced her fingers, "...have the… butterflies?"
When Gracie didn't respond, Marilyn stole a nervous glance up at the woman. She was immediately met with a knowing smile.
"You really are bad at seeing these things, aren't you?" Gracie laughed.
Marilyn blinked at her, not knowing what to even say in response. So she just blushed even more.
