[She glances over at Rose in a way that can only be described as "long-suffering." This is a standard expression when dealing with Rose, but Allison hasn't let go of her hand, which is a sign of resignation.]
You really think that? It's been years. [A delay, in which she clings to Rose's hand a little tighter.] And it isn't like her approval of who I date matters. I barely know her.
[A little uneasily:] She seemed nice. Intense, I suppose, but most of mom's colleagues are like that.
[ Allison is, probably understandably, awkward about the topic at hand but Rose is morbidly fascinated— like all of this is some unsolved true crime documentary. ]
Most people have that one ex they never get over— one of my sisters, the really annoying one, she's been on and off fucking her boyfriend since highschool.
[ There's a kind of levity in how she moves and talks. Rose was usually weighed down by something— family, her work, herself— but here and today she feels like her age, feels the way she tries so hard to look. ]
The doc is the one that got away. I bet that smarts— her womb didn't get to hold those genius eggs.
[Allison is observant by nature, and so she'd noticed, of course, and had tried not to make much out of it. Her mother was notoriously tight-lipped about some of her relationships — consequences of Ted Faro and his constant unpleasant presence on the outskirts of their lives — but she also wasn't the most emotive in general. Or expressive. Or easy to talk to, when you were her child and not some starstruck investor.
So she'd noticed. The way that woman's gaze had lingered, the regret in her voice. The request to "let Lis know that I'm thinking of her." and then, almost as an afterthought: "Gaia and Bethany as well, of course." But like some of her mother's more unsavory contacts (Travis Tate came to mind), Allison had opted not to think about it.
Rose doesn't have her hangups, though, and so she can't really blame her for bringing it up. She grimaces, trying not to smile at Rose's crassness and failing, as always, so the expression is almost pained. She almost says "they're all really annoying," thinks about it, and settles on:]
That doesn't narrow it down much. And can we please not talk about my mom's eggs? Come on. I know you have a heart, spare me.
[The protest is half-hearted, for all that she genuinely hates the topic. Rose seemed lighter in her recounting of it, even though the joke was at Allison's expense, and she's reluctant to end the talk as a result.]
[ The laughter snags in her throat, coming up on the tail of her comeback— it's seen but not heard, in the way her mouth quirks to the side.
She doesn't have any mercy, but she is interested in shittalking her sisters. There's some narrative parallels between Iris and the old dyke, after all. ]
There's only one of them that would do that. The others are all prudes and whores.
[ She wonders whether Allison wants to know where she lands on that spectrum, but then realizes she likely already knows that her answer is 'Both' (if the phone conversation they'd had just a day ago meant anything).
Rose walks next to Allison, just barely keep the distance between them from closing. ]
Iris, Yknow the one with the annoying boyfriend? The guy with the hair who lies—
[ Allison had only met him once and had almost decked him within 20 minutes of conversation. It had made Rose fall a bit harder. ]
I dated him in high school— before her, and then once after. Bad rebound.
You dated that guy? [Allison turns to her, genuinely surprised. She gently swings their arms back and forth as they walk, without thinking much on the gesture. Her eyebrows raise almost up into her hairline, and her tone when she speaks next is incredulous. Rose had hinted at this before, in the laying out of her surprisingly complex sororal politics. That in the span of their tumultuous, unstable years of living with one another, they had done things like this — rebounded with another one’s ex, slept with a sister’s boyfriend or girlfriend out of jealousy, or spite, or at times simply to be noticed. Allison, who had only one sister (antisocial, cerebral, self-doubting), problems completely separate from this, and where each of them had been noticed far too often for their own good, does not fully understand this. Though she can envision it, from her observations of Rose and her sisters, as separate people and as a singular unit. Always at odds with one another, never entirely at peace — simply at stalemates. And each of them vying for Rose’s attention or praise, in their own ways.
It made Allison uncomfortable to be around them for long, sensing their palatable dislike of her, feeling like an interloper on something not for her eyes. She kept her opinions on Rose’s sisters to herself.
The topic of “the guy with the hair who lies” is a safer one, however, and she relaxes into it. It’s comfortable routine to talk about him — a topic they both agreed on.] The guy who lives on your sister’s couch and thinks having a decent head of hair is a personality trait. And he isn’t dead yet? [In mock disappointment:] You didn’t kill him?
[It seems as if she is not threatened by this news, as much as she is completely flabbergasted. She can’t imagine Rose having the patience once, let alone twice.]
Tried- I keep trying. He can't keep his scams between the two of them.
[ She doesn't think about the gap in their ages very much. All things considered it wasn't that wide a divide especially with the unconventional nature of both of their lives. In some ways Allison's life experience was even more plentiful than her own. But it's strange to think that while she was giving half-hearted handjobs to her sister's now fiance of five years, Allison was being a baby genius. ]
He wasn't the worst boyfriend I've ever had either.
[ She isn't consciously taking them anywhere but naturally her feet drift toward the blooming nightlife. Street lamps and neon signs are just beginning to flicker on, their lights making the dark glass unfurl in the sky. ]
You never talk about your exes.
[ Rose pushes against her making Allison stray off the path. ]
[Allison stumbles more for the performance of it than actually being jostled, and bumps Rose’s hip on her return back to her side. For a time she’s quiet, content: soaking in the sounds of the city waking itself up for the night, watching the street lights dance in Rose’s hair. She’s a little tipsy from earlier, not sloppily drunk but uninhibited enough to feel sentimental and not so guarded.]
I don’t?
[It’s an honest question. It had only just now occurred to her that Rose or anyone might be interested in the parts of her life that was not carrying the torch of her parents’ legacy, of breaking some record or goal in academics or in her career.]
Ah… well, you’ve met Mio.
[She still stopped by on the occasions that the two of them were not swamped with work. Usually it was Gaia who knew of her arrival before Allison even had an inkling of it.] We dated as teenagers for a while, but we’ve known one another since we were kids.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You really think that? It's been years. [A delay, in which she clings to Rose's hand a little tighter.] And it isn't like her approval of who I date matters. I barely know her.
[A little uneasily:] She seemed nice. Intense, I suppose, but most of mom's colleagues are like that.
no subject
Most people have that one ex they never get over— one of my sisters, the really annoying one, she's been on and off fucking her boyfriend since highschool.
[ There's a kind of levity in how she moves and talks. Rose was usually weighed down by something— family, her work, herself— but here and today she feels like her age, feels the way she tries so hard to look. ]
The doc is the one that got away. I bet that smarts— her womb didn't get to hold those genius eggs.
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So she'd noticed. The way that woman's gaze had lingered, the regret in her voice. The request to "let Lis know that I'm thinking of her." and then, almost as an afterthought: "Gaia and Bethany as well, of course." But like some of her mother's more unsavory contacts (Travis Tate came to mind), Allison had opted not to think about it.
Rose doesn't have her hangups, though, and so she can't really blame her for bringing it up. She grimaces, trying not to smile at Rose's crassness and failing, as always, so the expression is almost pained. She almost says "they're all really annoying," thinks about it, and settles on:]
That doesn't narrow it down much. And can we please not talk about my mom's eggs? Come on. I know you have a heart, spare me.
[The protest is half-hearted, for all that she genuinely hates the topic. Rose seemed lighter in her recounting of it, even though the joke was at Allison's expense, and she's reluctant to end the talk as a result.]
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She doesn't have any mercy, but she is interested in shittalking her sisters. There's some narrative parallels between Iris and the old dyke, after all. ]
There's only one of them that would do that. The others are all prudes and whores.
[ She wonders whether Allison wants to know where she lands on that spectrum, but then realizes she likely already knows that her answer is 'Both' (if the phone conversation they'd had just a day ago meant anything).
Rose walks next to Allison, just barely keep the distance between them from closing. ]
Iris, Yknow the one with the annoying boyfriend? The guy with the hair who lies—
[ Allison had only met him once and had almost decked him within 20 minutes of conversation. It had made Rose fall a bit harder. ]
I dated him in high school— before her, and then once after. Bad rebound.
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It made Allison uncomfortable to be around them for long, sensing their palatable dislike of her, feeling like an interloper on something not for her eyes. She kept her opinions on Rose’s sisters to herself.
The topic of “the guy with the hair who lies” is a safer one, however, and she relaxes into it. It’s comfortable routine to talk about him — a topic they both agreed on.] The guy who lives on your sister’s couch and thinks having a decent head of hair is a personality trait. And he isn’t dead yet? [In mock disappointment:] You didn’t kill him?
[It seems as if she is not threatened by this news, as much as she is completely flabbergasted. She can’t imagine Rose having the patience once, let alone twice.]
no subject
[ She doesn't think about the gap in their ages very much. All things considered it wasn't that wide a divide especially with the unconventional nature of both of their lives. In some ways Allison's life experience was even more plentiful than her own. But it's strange to think that while she was giving half-hearted handjobs to her sister's now fiance of five years, Allison was being a baby genius. ]
He wasn't the worst boyfriend I've ever had either.
[ She isn't consciously taking them anywhere but naturally her feet drift toward the blooming nightlife. Street lamps and neon signs are just beginning to flicker on, their lights making the dark glass unfurl in the sky. ]
You never talk about your exes.
[ Rose pushes against her making Allison stray off the path. ]
no subject
I don’t?
[It’s an honest question. It had only just now occurred to her that Rose or anyone might be interested in the parts of her life that was not carrying the torch of her parents’ legacy, of breaking some record or goal in academics or in her career.]
Ah… well, you’ve met Mio.
[She still stopped by on the occasions that the two of them were not swamped with work. Usually it was Gaia who knew of her arrival before Allison even had an inkling of it.] We dated as teenagers for a while, but we’ve known one another since we were kids.