AN: Well, sometimes I can knock out a double update that fast still. Wow. Also, I kinda owe you guys (and girls, and others) a chunk of Elsanna goodness.
It has been a surprisingly busy weekend, and it's still only Saturday. Night, anyway. Tina stayed for dinner, but decided she should probably get home for the rest of the night. Cara came to collect her, and while Joan and Tina were saying their goodbyes, Cara and I discussed their—involvement—with each other. Steps we might think about taking. Boundaries we should talk about—that conversation actually being one of them. Right now, though, I'm on top of Joan's bed, and she's lying on top of me, pinning me to the covers. Like you used to sometimes. Because I noticed she hadn't changed her sheets in quite some time, and she was saying she'd get around to it eventually—after her exams.
So we're at an impasse over responsible laundry.
"You should know your mother was quite fastidious about her laundry. She even taught me what that word meant."
"Well maybe I'm like you were." Ouch.
"Look, if you're too tired to change it, I'll do it for you. This time."
The look on her face—so this isn't about laundry then. I know that look. I've worn it a few times. I can even see her trying to think of a good lie. I hold up a hand to stop her.
"Ten minutes," I look at her sternly. She knows I know. "No questions. But we will be changing these sheets."
I leave. I can almost hear her sigh of relief. I do care what it is—if it could hurt her, or Tina, or any of us, for that matter—but not enough that I want to pry. Okay, that's a lie. I want to pry. So badly. But this is about boundaries. If I respect this one, she might even be more open about it. Unless… well, it's not like that drawer on the side of my nightstand has a lock. Of course, this raises a series of questions, and a line of questioning I really don't want to follow. Except maybe with Kristoff. And maybe not even then.
I'm just mulling it over on the couch, not really paying attention to the TV, when Joan comes down the stairs, cheeks rosier than usual. She looks around, checking for someone. I hope she can't see my wry smile.
"I want to ask, but you don't have to say anything."
Her cheeks are lot more colourful than they should be. "It's… I'm not su… maybe ano… I mean…" It is so hard to keep a straight face right now, but I know how important it is. "Can we just not talk about it. Please?"
"Talk about what?" I give her a wink. It doesn't do much to calm her down. "But look, baby, if you do want another 'question time' about adult stuff, just say so, okay?"
"…but it's just so—"
"Embarrassing?"
She sighs, turning away. "Among other things. I mean, it's kinda super-cool you'd do that, and not be all super-overprotective-mom about it; but then, well… it's weird."
"You know me," I walk to the stairs and gently turn her around. "I am weird. Quirky. Fun—I hope."
"Okay, yeah, you are a fun mom, most of the time." She shakes herself off. "So, you'll help me remake my bed?"
"I can even tell you a story while we do it."
"I'm not sure if that's bribery or extortion."
I poke my tongue at her. "Both."
—∞—
I got home early on Friday afternoon. We'd got everything ready for an install on Saturday, and with nothing really left to do—and it being about 4:00 anyway—we called on Kristoff to let us off early, and he did. It was always nice being able to do that sometimes. I stripped off my overalls, and decided that I wasn't really dirty enough to need a shower. Yet. I still changed my shirt, but that was because it was cold without my overalls. Elsa was conspicuous by her absence, and then I remembered the time. She didn't normally get back until a little after me.
Figuring out what to do in the meantime was a little harder. Without people around I'd always felt a little lost. I'd get better at just being myself, by myself, later—but at the time I was feeling rather listless. I thought of doing something nice for Elsa. Something new. Or even just cooking dinner. I frowned at the clock. Dinner could easily wait another hour. No need to start cooking. I could have killed time by watching TV, or browsing social media, but for some reason I just didn't want to.
Thunder split the sky so loudly and lightning flashed so close that I fell off the couch in fright. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts after that, and then the rain began, pelting down against the roof, rattling on the windows. I curled into a ball, shivering slightly. Thunder rumbled again, and I looked around, expecting the lights to go out at any moment. Then it occurred to me how silly I must have looked; a grown-ass woman half paralyzed with fear over some thunder and rain. And Elsa says she likes this weather. I couldn't keep the sarcasm from my inner voice.
I left the lounge, then checked on what we had in the fridge. I'd have to go shopping again soon, that much was clear. It wasn't weird shopping for two though—I'd been doing it most of my adult life. Some sort of pasta bake, I decided. Then, just to be sure, I checked the pantry. There was enough pasta for one of us, at least. Or we could have noodles. My ideas turned to doing something stir fry style, and then thunder boomed so close it rattled the windows.
The pantry, it turned out, was a bad place to be frightened like that. It must have taken me quarter of an hour to put everything back that I'd inadvertently knocked over. A couple of jars were goners, and that took time to clean up as well. I was, in fact, considering ordering take-out at that point. I also thought I heard a distant knocking. I peeked back into the lounge, just to be sure. I heard a key in the lock, and then a loud curse as Elsa stumbled through the door, landing in a heap.
She didn't get up.
I rushed over, kneeling down next to her. She smiled at me, then pointed to the treacherous door, banging in the wind. Her bag was stopping it from closing. I dragged her bag inside, then slammed the door against the force of the wind. She groaned, slowly sitting herself up against the wall.
"You okay down there?" I was concerned. I hadn't seen her like this in a very long time.
"Tired." She mumbled something else that I didn't catch.
I attempted to lift her. "And wet. And heavy."
"Hey!" She pulled me down with her. "Please, Anna, just let me rest."
"Soaking wet and freezing cold?"
"I was dancing all day for rehearsals. My feet hurt. My legs hurt. Just let me rest."
I stood up, standing back, trying to see. I saw a lot. How tangled her hair was, and not just from the storm. Her eyelids drooped, and then she blinked, shaking her head. Her hunched posture. How she was just sitting there instead of doing anything. The fact she wasn't even trying to hide it from me. I couldn't see her aches and pains, but I had an idea to make her feel better.
"How about I run you a bath?"
She looked at me blankly for a moment, processing. Her smile didn't quite make it to her eyes. "Please. Would be nice. Thank you."
"Think you can manage the stairs yet?"
"I said it hurt, Anniken, not that I am dead," she gave me another half smile, rising slowly, and used the wall to prop herself up. She leaned against it quite heavily as she climbed the stairs.
I looked at her with some suspicion. "I'm thinking maybe I shouldn't leave you alone in the bath if you're that tired."
"Maybe it is good idea." She didn't even realize. "Oh." Her cheeks flushed, and she looked at me with as much skepticism as she could muster. "This would not just be to see me naked?"
"Well, we've been topless together before." I opened the bathroom door for her.
She smiled at me. This time it did go to her eyes—along with a glimmer of mischief. "A foot massage would be amazing."
"As long as you promise not to drag me into the tub. Or fall asleep."
"I will make no such promises." I gave her my best effort at a scathing look as I put in the plug and turned on the taps.
"Throw your wet stuff over there." I jerked my thumb over my shoulder towards the laundry basket. Then, much more quietly: "I promise to look very closely."
Something cold, wet and heavy slapped into the back of my head. It was just unfortunate I was leaning over the bath at that moment. Elsa's jacket followed me into the lukewarm water accompanied by the sound of her laughter. I was about to give her a piece of my mind when I saw her leaning down to fish me out, already half naked. She helped me out of my now soaking shirt, taking great care to be very hands-on.
She was the picture of innocence when she spoke, slipping out of her pants and quietly into the bath. "It is only fair."
Fair, yes. And a little cold. And it didn't mean I didn't want to brain her with the shampoo for knocking me in like that either.
After her bath—and my minor dunking—Elsa perked up enough to help with preparing dinner. Preparing, not cooking. I was not willing to let her try that again until I could give her some more guidance on planning a meal. We just talked about work, the past, and pondered when the storm would stop. Not a single comment was made about anyone's hair still being wrapped in a towel. Which got me thinking about hair in general. And how she'd said she would lose hers during treatment. I didn't even know how sensitive she might be about it—but that brain-mouth filter thing other people seem to have…
"Elsa, I was just thinking about hair and stuff and because you said you'll probably lose yours during treatment and I don't know if this is even appropriate or not but you could always get one of those super wigs if you wanted or maybe you'd rather a pirate bandanna thing which would also be cool and back to wigs you could have a hairstyle a day thing going and why haven't you stopped me yet? Elsa? Elsa?"
I couldn't tell if what I heard was sobbing, breathing, or laughter. This was mostly because she wasn't looking at me. She turned and held up a hand. "Please, for the love of god, Anniken. Slow. Down."
"I'm sorry, I was just nervous and then I though of all this oth—"
"Do you even breathe?" She gave me a quizzical look.
I had no idea how guilty I looked. Or why. "Umm…"
She facepalmed. "I think there is a word for people like you. It is not even English."
I cocked my head, giving her a puzzled look. "Is it Norwegian?"
"No, it's Japanese." She smiled and blushed slightly.
"Well…?"
"'Genki'."
I looked it up. It actually took a bit of searching, because of some branded stuff. And, of course, it was from Anime stuff. It was also very accurate.
"Well…?" her turn to ask that.
"You didn't have to be so accurate." It hadn't even occurred to me that she was deflecting, again.
"But it is what you are," she smiled. "Is the food nearly ready?"
I checked the oven, then the clock. "Not long. Grab yourself a plate."
We ate in relative silence, the rain pounding against the windows. Thunder still rumbled, but with Elsa there, it was somehow less frightening. I was still trying to pick up my train of thought when I felt the towel over my hair getting colder and heavier. Well, it had probably been doing that for a while, but I'd been ignoring it. I unwrapped the towel from my hair and tossed it onto the bench. Elsa had been playing with it in the bath, too—my hair, that is, not the towel—so it wasn't really too wet. I blinked, looking over to her, and the way her hair fell across her shoulders and down her back. She had so much of it.
She was going to lose it.
That was the train of thought that had been derailed. This time it was a forkful of noodles halfway to my mouth.
"Anna?"
"I just remembered what we were talking about before." I chewed thoughtfully, the food kept me from saying anything without thinking that time.
"About knowing Japanese words?" Deflecting, again, Elsa. I shook my head. So it was going to be a bit of a touchy subject. But we were going to have to talk about it at some point.
"About hair," I held up my free hand to stall her. "If you don't want to talk about it, just say so, stop deflecting."
"I… It's hard," she wasn't complaining. "Maybe it is like you and therapy. I do not want to, but maybe it is that I need to."
"And maybe dinner and dessert isn't the right time."
"Maybe not," she agreed. "But is there a good time set aside for talking about really serious things in this house?"
I let out a quiet laugh, and shook my head. "And let me guess, you want to sleep early tonight, because you're so tired?"
"I close that door, it is not always sleep." And then there was that very telling blush. I looked away just as she met my eyes. I envied how she could say so much without saying anything at all. And I lost my train of thought. Again. Mostly because I was imagining what it was she got up to behind closed doors. And whether or not I wanted to be involved. I must have blushed, because I heard a very quiet, slightly nervous laugh from the other end of the table. "And I am thinking it is not only me."
I stared at the table. She was so bold. Teasing me, almost. I looked up, and locked my eyes with hers. I tried to control my blush. I'm an adult, dammit. "Well maybe if you hadn't tried drowning me earlier…"
She frowned, unconvinced. "Please do not tease me, Anniken. I would like us to be serious about this."
Shifting gears again. It still struck me as odd how she could do that so easily. "I am serious," I lowered my gaze slightly, staring at what was left of her dinner. "But I'm not ready—or maybe I'm ready to talk about it, but not do it—or maybe even just some teasing like that massage and then maybe it goes further but I just don't know and it's really confusing for me right now and I don't know why."
Elsa held up her hands, and counted off her fingers as she spoke. "I can think of several reasons: One, Hans fucked you up. It is taking time to unlearn that. Frustrating time. Two, you are not a lesbian. Yet. Perhaps you are Bi, and prefer men. Maybe even you do not know. Three, we trust each other, but I am so reserved, so maybe you are thinking that pushing too fast will upset me—but this is unlikely, given our talks. Four, for now, perhaps we have enough companionship the times we simply sleep together, and your needs are not based on lust."
She smiled at me, holding up her hand.
"And yes, we have talked, but sometimes you must tell me things directly. I would not like if something implied consent, and you did not protest, but did not want any of it because the implied consent was wrong."
I took a lengthy moment to process everything she'd just said. "Umm, that last part, do you mean like if you did something to me sexually, and maybe I didn't want it, but not saying 'no' and not stopping you and then me feeling bad afterwards would make you feel terrible about it?"
"Yes," she nodded sharply. "Because it makes resentment, and distrust. It is part of why I broke up with Yuriko for leading me on."
"Oh." I really couldn't think of anything else to say in that moment.
—∞—
Joan's looking up at me quizzically—that look you had—from her freshly made bed. "So Mom was really good at deflecting you away from the subject of wigs and hair and stuff, wasn't she?"
"She was," I give Joan a lopsided grin. "I didn't even realise what she'd done until halfway through my shower that night. By then she was already asleep. Probably actually asleep, by that time. She was pretty beat that evening."
"So did you convince her to talk about it?"
"I did," I look at the ground. "But I was pretty underhanded about it. I had us talk on Sunday morning. That tiny window when I was half awake and my brain worked better, and she was half awake and didn't have her defences up. I didn't like doing it, but I knew I had to."
"I think that's actually pretty smart, mom," Joan's smiling at me. "You used what you knew to tell her something she needed to hear—at a time when it wouldn't hurt her. Or at least it wouldn't hurt her as much, and she would actually listen to you."
"Who said you could be so smart?"
"I get it from my mother."
"Which one?"
She sticks her tongue out at me. "Who do you think?"
