I do not own Mona Lisa Smile.

I never thought of this before. And now I love it.

Not All Who Wander Are Aimless

Alien

It's been a bad day.

The rain hasn't helped.

She's been sitting on the couch in her blue pajamas with the white piping, hardly touched wine glass near at hand.

And she's been crying.

A lot.

Thinking about how things used to be.

How she used to be.

How absolutely, completely, terribly awful she used to be.

How they didn't deserve the way she treated them, any of them.

Connie Baker. Susan Delacourt.

Katherine Watson.

Basically everyone but Joan, who knew exactly how to behave, what to say, what to skirt.

The Betty to Betty's mother.

Now there's a thought.

I was exactly like my mother.

Even though I detested how she was.

She had treated everyone so badly.

Just the way her mother taught her to.

Everyone.

Especially . . .

"Betty, what's wrong?"

"I don't . . . I don't know how you can stand to be nice to me after how badly I treated you at Wellesley! I was so angry, so jealous, so resentful! I was so awful to you! I'm so sorry!"

. . . Giselle.

"It's okay, Betty. Don't worry. It's over now. You're different."

Giselle's hand smooths her hair, strokes a line down her cheek.

Giselle kisses her twice on the other cheek, all warm and loving like Giselle is.

All . . . sensual.

Betty has never been touched quite like that before.

Her mother was not a warm person by anyone's standards.

A brisk pat to the hand was the most she ever was willing to muster, a pinch to the chin maybe.

And Spencer, she had told herself was a gentleman, waiting until they were properly married.

How wrong she had been, he had hardly ever touched her at all that he didn't have to.

And never so gently and with such sincere gentleness and kindness as Giselle.

She finds herself leaning in to the touch just the littlest bit.

Leaning in, captivated by Giselle's dark, warm, beautiful gaze.

Another something Betty has never truly experienced before.

It's almost like she's hypnotized, being drawn in to the positive attention openly lavished upon her at this moment.

She finds herself smiling, eyes brimming with emotion she always tried so hard to shut up.

Emotion isn't really proper, ladylike behavior

But she's being overcome.

Love. Care. Acceptance.

These are things so alien to her.

Yet she feels now she always missed them so desperately without even knowing that she was missing them.

So when Giselle seems make some new consideration, seems to lean forward, Betty doesn't think to stop her.

She simply stays still.

Oh.

Um.

lets herself . . .

I don't think . . .

. . . be kissed.

Giselle's lips are warm and soft.

Her breath smells vaguely of cigarettes but so had Spencer's.

But Betty doesn't want to think about Spencer just now.

It only makes her angry and sad.

And she draws back, uncertain and confused.

"I thought . . ."

Can't think of how to begin.

". . . you were, uh, . . ."

Can't think over the new and unfamiliar feelings she always knew she wanted to feel.

". . . I didn't think you . . ."

But could never quite really feel.

". . . I thought you only liked . . ."

And Giselle's response is so simple and so beautiful.

In a way Betty can't fully comprehend just yet.

"I love, Betty. That's what I do. I accept people for who they are and I love."

But she's completely stunned and fascinated by it, by the possible meaning and implications of it.

Giselle doesn't offer anymore, doesn't press forward, doesn't draw back.

And Betty chews her lip while she sits and thinks.

Tries to think.

"Have you ever . . ."

Giselle shrugs.

"No."

"Have you been wanting to . . ."

Giselle smiles, chuckles a little.

"No. It just occurred to me."

And Betty feels bewilderment.

How does she live like that? So . . . off-the-cuff? So spontaneous, so free?

"So how do you know . . ."

Giselle shook her head.

"I don't. But I'm always willing to try."

Betty feels like she never has been.

But she thinks she might want to be.

If she knew how.

"Would you be hurt if I didn't . . ."

Giselle shakes her head.

"No. I'm your friend, Betty. I'll always be your friend."

That takes a lot of the pressure off.

Nothing is expected of her, nothing is demanded of her.

She can do whatever she wants and it's alright.

Everything is alright.

Betty Warren sits and thinks for a moment.

"I don't know how."

Giselle smiles.

"Neither do I."

And Betty Warren slowly leans forward.

And kisses her friend again.

This honestly never occured to me before beginning this story.

But it makes complete sense to me now.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

:)