Supercat prompt: Kara can fly across the world in minutes, obviously she goes to foreign places on a semi regular basis. She has a restaurant in Scottland that has a dish so similar to her favorite Kryptonian dish that when she’s upset she’ll go there to decompress and get comfort food.
Only this time Kara turns around to come face to face with Cat Grant, hands on her popped hip as she waits for her former assistant to explain just what she’s doing in Scottland when just this morning she tweeted from National City.
It’s the texture that really gets her. The taste yes, but oh Rao, the way it feels when she bites in. It’s so similar to larqk that she felt a little sick the first time she tried it. It had been a kind of accident. A dare. She was flying over Scotland with Kal-El one evening and he got this mischievous look on his face, because they’d just saved a school of whales. That was worth a feast, of anything was. They’d eaten their way through several cakes and other kinds of meats when he got that look in his eye again.
“It’s a delicacy…” he smiled. “Come on.”
“Sure. But what’s in it?”
The fun had ended when she took one bite and burst into tears. Even after she got him to try it. Please, try it. He couldn’t understand.
It had this nutty consistency, like the koro beans on Krypton she thought she’d never get to try again. It wasn’t made from the same animal parts, of course. The spices were a little off. But the way they served it….
“Well, well. Kara Danvers? In the middle of Glasgow. Eating Haggis?”
“Miss Grant!”
She felt a little faint, worried she was imagining things. But it was her alright, standing with her hand on her hip, looking like she had won a bet herself. Cat didn’t wait to be asked, she just sat down. Kara nearly choked on her mouthful, swallowing to rush into an explanation.
“Oh, don’t bother,” Cat waved her away. “You tweeted from National City this morning. I’m looking forward to the explanation, though. But I think it might be more productive for you to simply continue eating.”
“Really, Miss Grant. There’s this story, and I…”
Cat sighed, looking disappointed, and Kara felt the lie shrivel up right before she could spin it. She steeled herself. she could be brave.
“Well, what are you doing here, Miss Grant?”
“Edinburgh Fringe.”
“We’re not in Edinburgh.”
Cat gave her a bored-looking glare for stating the obvious.
“Carter found this bookshop in Glasgow he insisted we go to.”
Kara grinned, suddenly. She looked around for him but Cat stopped her, with an unexpected hand on her arm.
“He’s with his minder. Even I deserve some time off.”
“Time off from time off?”
Cat rolled her eyes.
“So, why Scotland, Supergirl?”
“Miss Grant…”
“Please, call me Cat. And stop insulting my intelligence.”
Kara closed her eyes, but she felt Cat’s grip on her arm tighten. Her heart sped up. To her surprise, so did Cat’s.
“It’s ok,” Cat’s voice was unexpectedly soft. “This will be the last time I harass you over it.”
And then her hand was gone, and Kara felt suddenly cold.
“No!” she said, before she knew what she was even intending to do. Her face heated up. She indicated to the food on the plate. “It’s similar, so similar.”
Cat was watching her closely, and she hesitated, barely managing the word.
“Similar to larqk.”
“To what?”
“A delicacy,” she breathed the words. “On Krypton.”
Cat opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Not until she managed to stutter.
“Oh.”
“Potstickers are good, I mean they’re all wrapped up, they’re kind of close. But they’re not…the same.”
“And haggis is?”
Kara laughed at Cat’s bewildered expression.
“Yeah. Somehow.”
“Who would have thought,” Cat’s eyes were bright, taking her in. “I’d love to hear the story behind it.”
“I think you owe me a few classified secrets of your own first.”
Cat smirked.
“I do have a few good ones.”
Kara fought a blush, feeling nervous for an altogether different reason. She started to eat again and Cat tilted her head to the side a little, watching her fondly.
“You really just…I’m guessing flew? To Scotland?” Cat paused. “For haggis?”
“You came for some Arts festival.”
“Edinburgh is a UNESCO City Of Literature, it’s not cow stomach. Sheep stomach?”
“Well, I had a bad day,” Kara hated how her voice wobbled. “I needed a pick me up.”
“Oh,” Cat’s face fell, the teasing gone from her tone. She seemed to be struggling with how to proceed. Whether she was allowed to continue to prod and question, whether it was even something that Kara needed right now. Kara felt warmed by the concern. She gave Cat a challenging grin.
“Want to try some?”
“Hmmmm.” To her surprise, Cat grasped the proffered fork and took a bite. She frowned, and swallowed. “It’s not bad. For offal.”
Kara rolled her eyes.
“Well, I’m not a fan of lettuce wraps.”
“I’m not even sure I am, but they have an acceptable amount of calories.” Her eyes widened as a server turned up at their table, and took one of Kara’s old plates away. He replaced it with another. “How much of that are you going to eat?”
“As much as it takes.”
“That’s rather cryptic.”
“Cat…”
“I’m not asking. I’m actively not asking,’ Cat said. “But I’m offering. If you ever want to. Talk about it. We used to have some decent discussions on my balcony, if I recall.”
Kara looked up then. Cat’s expression was warm, open. It was an offer of something. Something tentative. Something real. She nodded.
“We did, didn’t we?”
For the record, I’m one of those annoying vegetarians, and have thus never eaten anything this exciting.
Tag: fic
I’ve seriously had the first thousand words of this sitting in my drafts since January, but ¯_(ツ)_/¯ apparently I knocked something loose at the holiday market? idek.
Anyway, here is 4k of Well-Adjusted Adult Jedi Ben Solo having a very bad time in the worst parallel universe. More to come, probably?
1. the islandSometimes, Ben decided, the Force could be downright vindictive. All he did was think, for the barest moment, that it would be nice to be alone for a little while, and – boom. Wish granted, in the worst, most baffling way.
In the days after he was stranded, Ben did his best to piece together the sequence of events that got him there. So far, it went something like this:
Morning reblog, in case you missed it yesterday.
Kara Danvers’s first Chanukah
They’re are on laundry duty while Eliza and Jeremiah clean the kitchen. Kara’s first proper Earth holiday, Thanksgiving, was as weird as all her other Earth-firsts. But, at least this one came with a great menu. Alex is measuring out the detergent while Kara dumps all of the table linens into the washer. She triple checks for anything red, remembering the look on Eliza’s face when she discovered one of Kara’s red socks had made it’s way into a load of whites.
“What’s the next holiday?”
“Chanukah,” Alex says absently, dumping the cap of detergent into the washer.
“Is that just for America, like Thanksgiving?”
“No,” Alex says, replacing the detergent lid and wiping her hands on the front of her jeans. “It’s a Jewish one. We light candles, play games, eat fried food, and get lame presents.”
“That sounds like a holiday we had on Krypton. Except for the fried food and presents. But any holiday where you eat french fries and mozzarella sticks sounds great.” Kara grins.
“Well, not those kinds of fried foods,” Alex motions for Kara to close the washer lid and, once she does, pushes in the dial on the machine so it starts.
“Then what kind?”
“Well, like. Latkes, and-”
“What’s a latke?”
“A potato pancake,” Alex sighs, trying not to get frustrated.
“Ohhh,” Kara nods, not sure if the image in her mind is right.
“Like a hashbrown from McDonalds, but not really,” Alex frowns and Kara’s eyes widen with delight. “There’s also sufganiyot. Not everyone has them, but our congregation does ‘cause the rabbi’s wife is Israeli.”
“And what are those?” Kara’s eyes are huge and Alex has to hold in a laugh. Kara is hands down the hungriest person alive.
“Israeli doughnuts,” she grins, because Kara’s eyes are practically sparkling.
“Oh, I love doughnuts.”
Before their first day back at school, Alex takes Kara aside and explains Christmas. It sounds like a wonderful holiday, too, and when Kara asks when they’ll get a tree, Alex cringes.
“We won’t.”
“But-”
“We’re Jewish. We don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“Oh. Like Easter?”
“Right,” Alex nods, hands stuffed in her pockets. “But, well. Everyone else celebrates it. So you’ll experience it.”
“Well that’s good,” Kara nods, “do they eat fried food, too?”
“I don’t think so. They eat ham?”
“Oh,” Kara frowns, tapping her chin, “clearly Jewish people have the better holiday.”
“Make sure you tell the kids at school that when they tease you for not celebrating,” Alex chuckles, patting Kara on the back.
The first night there’s a party at the synagogue. Everyone’s bringing their personal latke recipe, there’s a band and story time and a bunch of fun crafts. Kara’s been excited all week. The kids from Kara’s Hebrew school are far too cool and plan on ditching once the candles are lit, but Eliza has made Alex promise to stay with Kara for the whole evening.
Alex is bitter and grumpy, but perks up when Eliza hands her a big box.
“Pick one for each of us.”
“I want the Lego one,” Jeremiah calls from upstairs and Kara’s brows shoot up.
“What’s in there?”
“The chanukiyot. Menorahs,” Alex yanks the lid off of the box and Kara peers over her shoulder at the jumble of objects. “We’ve got a lot.”
“Oh, we light those each night!” Kara bounces around and sits cross-legged across the box from Alex.
“Yep,” Alex starts pulling them out, “we’ve always brought one for each of us to the synagogue’s party. Mom always picks them out though.”
As Alex takes out each chanukiah, Kara has to resist the urge to pick them up and look at them. They’re all beautiful, some are ornate and expensive looking, while others are simple and plain. A lot of them still have globs of white or blue wax stuck to the arms and Alex grumbles about being stuck cleaning them again this year.
“Do you like this one?” She holds up one that’s solid, without branches, and instead has a mosaic of different blue tiles, arranged to form a Star of David in the centre of both sides.
“It’s pretty,” Kara oohs appropriately.
“It’s one of mom’s favourites. You can take it this year,” Alex nods, setting it down firmly.
“I can?” Kara bites her lip.
“Yeah,” Alex says, looking briefly at Kara with a smile, “mom said one for each of us.”
“Right,” Kara nods, trembling with excitement.
“You remember how to do it?” Eliza says quietly to Kara. They’re all in the synagogue’s social hall. The rabbi is giving a little speech about miracles and ‘embodying the miracle of light in these times’. Kara can smell the latkes on the other side of the room, but right now, the task at hand is lighting the chanukiah.
There have to be at least 30 of them, all set up on the party tables lined with aluminium. Jeremiah and Eliza are to Kara’s left and Alex is to her right, closer to her friends who are still trying to get Alex to ditch with them.
“I got it,” Kara nods, holding the shamash in her right hand. Jeremiah passes his flame to Eliza, who passes it to Kara, and then with trembling fingers, Kara holds the light to the slender white candle on the far right of the chanukiah.
“That was the easy part,” Alex mutters, for Kara’s super-hearing only. “Blessings are up next.”
But Alex doesn’t get it. For Kara, the blessings are the easy part. She doesn’t have to gentle her voice, slow her words to be more precise. Her body is still a wild card, movements require so much focus, especially the ones that are delicate. Like lighting a candle.
Home. Krypton. It’s suddenly is less of a memory. The light of the chanukiah is almost like the light of Rao; the smells of food and fire and lamp oil; the blessings are ancient calls of gratitude. It’s close, so close it’s almost enough to bridge the gap, to make her forget she’s not home.
With her eyes closed, she can almost hear her mother’s voice at the very edge of the crowd, clear and firm and true. For a moment, she feels her mother’s hand in hers, warm and alive, comforting. But, when she opens her eyes and looks down, Eliza’s hand is grasping hers. And then Alex reaches out and takes her other hand.
Kara’s cheeks are wet from tears she had no idea she was crying. The candle lights blur in her vision and the mixed voices of the congregation picking up the final prayer shake her back to reality.
This is her first Chanukah.
Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech haolam, shehecheyanu v’kiy’manu v’higiyanu laz’man hazeh.
“I made it for you!” “I can tell” with Kara and anyone, because of course she would
A/N: If you let me choose, I’m always going to pick the Danvers sisters, so here we go with Kara and Alex.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“I made it for you!” a small girl, probably around four years old, says with a toothy grin as she holds out a colorful piece of paper to Supergirl, who is mingling with the crowd.
From inside the cordoned off area, Alex smiles at the sight. She always loves seeing the positive influence that Supergirl has on people, especially children. She’s so proud of the hero Kara’s become.
“I can tell,” Supergirl says, crouching down to match the girl’s height and mirroring her smile with one of her own. “It looks just like me. Thank you!”
She hugs the girl, who sways back and forth in her arms, unable to stay still with her energy and excitement.
Alex is about to return her attention to the containment scene happening around her when the girl runs under the barricade tape.
“I made one for you too!” the girl exclaims.
“Becca, get back here!”
Becca’s mother shouts.
Alex is several feet behind the barricade tape and waves off the closer DEO agents that move to intercept
Becca. She takes a few steps towards Becca and takes her hand. “Let’s get back to your mom.”
“Sorry about that,” Becca’s mom says.
“That’s okay,” Alex says lightly, not wanting to upset the little girl. “We have to stay on this side of the tape, okay, Becca?”
But Becca is focused on one thing only.
“This is for you!” she says, this time handing Alex a colorful drawing.
“Becca is a big Supergirl fan,” Becca’s mom explains. “She watches a lot of Supergirl footage, and she noticed you’re there by Supergirl’s side a lot, so she’s become a fan of you too.”
Alex did not expect that. “Oh, wow, that’s–uh–”
“Amazing,” Supergirl finishes for her, her grin even wider than it was before.
“Yes, thank you!” Alex says, giving Becca a hug.
“Wanna know a secret?” Supergirl says to Becca in a faux whisper.
Becca leans in, face bright with curiosity and excitement at being trusted with one of Supergirl’s secrets.
“I’m a big fan of her too,” Supergirl says.
“Supergirl,” Alex groans, feeling her face heat up with embarrassment.
Supergirl smiles at her. “It’s true.”
Eager to move on, Alex looks down at the drawing. It’s pretty typical for a child, broad crayon stokes depicting her clad in all black with red hair. Next to her is Supergirl, who is much more colorful. Alex has seen a lot of the fanart that Kara’s gotten from fans. She never thought she’d get some of her own.
“Thank you,” Alex tells Becca again. “I am going to keep this forever.”
Becca squeals with delight, and it’s all her mother can do to pull her away in the end.
When Alex glances at Kara, the giant grin is still there.
“Please stop,” Alex says as she turns back towards the containment scene.
Kara follows her. “I can’t help it. I’ll always be really happy when people recognize you as the amazing person that you are.”
“I’m a secret agent,” Alex says, putting on a pretend stern face. “I’m not supposed to be getting recognition.”
“Well I don’t care,” Kara retorts. “I think you’re amazing.”
BOOTY DOCTOR
Wells is the one who actually wants to join a gym. His pitch to Clarke is that he needs a buddy to keep him accountable, so they should sign up together, and she about half-believes him, in that she thinks it’s about half true. He really does like having company, but he’s also Wells. In general, he is motivated and responsible and definitely would go to the gym on his own. He doesn’t actually need Clarke to go with him.
But Clarke was lagging on finding a gym for herself, making excuses about how she’d do it later, and Wells probably figured he should just find a gym and come up with a schedule for both of them. They were gym buddies in high school and then she didn’t go to the gym much in college; maybe he’s the missing piece of her fitness routine.
The place he picks is only a few blocks from their apartment, on her way home from work, which is another point in favor of the whole plan, and enough to tip her into actually agreeing. They meet up at the train station, go over to the gym together, and Wells does whatever magic he does to be secretly super ripped while Clarke watches trashy TV on the stair master.
It’s a good system, one that Clarke likes and feels no need to disrupt with anything drastic like group classes or making eye contact with anyone else in the gym for a good three months, right up until she first notices The Guy.
disease-danger-darkness-silence:
i want to know more about charlie weasley’s friends. who the hell agrees to SMUGGLE A DRAGON across international borders on two days notice? who are these people that are willing to accept a dragon in a crate from a couple of small children, no questions asked? i need to know more, tell me about the antics of these mysterious flying dragon smugglers.
ESPCAD.
European Society for the Prevention of Cruelty Against Dragons.
Like PETA but with less grossness and more punk activism. And fire breathing dragons so like no one really fux with ‘em.
speaking as a biologist, i can guarantee i would show up without question to smuggle an endangered species that would otherwise be destroyed across national borders to a sanctuary on two days’ notice.
like. if a small child showed me a box containing a juvenile alligator snapping turtle and was like “you need to smuggle this across the continent to kansas or else it will be destroyed” i would be like “sure, would you like me to send you a postcard, small child”
I cannot help but feel that if Albus Dumbledore had known about this freelance dragon-smuggling association things might have gone very differently for Harry Potter.
“I want you to basically move this child across national borders to somewhere where they’ve never even heard of Lord Voldemort and keep him until I need him.”
“No. That’s kidnapping.”
“He’s an unwanted orphan who’ll be hunted mercilessly by Voldemort’s associates and to make it worth your while I’ll give you these very rare eggs I happen to have come across in my –
“HOW THE HELL DID THOSE GET OUT OF NORWAY okay fine. Gimme. I’ll send a card.”
The smugglers take the eggs and the kid, dropping off the kid with someone’s sister who’s already got a couple and seems to know how to manage them. They check in, though, and it turns out the kid is mega into reptiles. Can even talk to them, which makes him *very* helpful…
Ten years later everyone but Albus Dumbledore is a little puzzled as to why a kid allegedly named ‘Nils Johansson’ has come all the way from Sweden to go to Hogwarts. Nils wears glasses, has a collection of interesting scars including one on his forehead, has two pet snakes that are almost always on his person, knows everything there is to know about dragons and introduces himself to Ron on the train with “You must be Ron, your brother Charlie told me to look you up. He works with my uncle William, visits a lot.”
Hagrid recognizes him instantly, of course, but it’s when he finds out how much Nils knows about dragons that his heart is won forever.
What is Kara like when she’s pregnant?
At first Kara seems unaffected by her pregnancy. No nausea,
no aches or pains or inconvenient mood swings. Of course she credits it all to
her superior kyptonian genetics. No way she is going to be effected by
something as trivial as reproductive biology. Everyone nods sagely and agrees,
because they’ve all heard Alex bitching about how unfair it is that Kara was
genetically engineered for perfection, so it all makes sense.Except for Alex. She doesn’t believe a word of it. She knows
Kara, she listened to Kara’s stories about growing up on Krypton and about
codex and the birthing chambers. She knows Kal-El was the first natural birth
in millennia, she knows how scandalous it was and she remembers Kara’s stories
about how Laura suffered through her pregnancy. She also knows what Kara looks
like when she is in denial and she can see her kryptonian is swimming in it.When Alex tries to warn the others they don’t believe her,
because clearly Kara knows better, she is the kryptonian after all. Her ‘wanna
bet?’ becomes lots of bets, lots and lots of bets, at the DEO, CatCo, the alien
bar, everywhere. And Kara is so calm and unfazed that no one can believe that
she’ll end up hormonal, so they take the bets. But Alex knows Kara, and she
knows it’s only a matter of time, so she racks up the bets. Vasquez is the only
one who wont touch the bet, she knows better than to discount Alex when it
comes to Kara, she makes a few modest bets herself and uses her winnings for a
great baby present. Alex almost ashamed by how much money she is going to make,
but with a half kryptonian bun in Kara’s oven she knows their food bills are
going to go through the roof and her winnings are going to make a good start.And then it happens, Kara wakes in the middle of the night
and she can hear a noise. A soft, soothing, rhythmic noise. It takes an
embarrassingly long time for her to realise it’s her baby’s heart beat, but
when she does, the wall crumbles and she is hit by the feels. All of the feels!
Alex is woken by the subsequent scream of “Holy Rao, I’m pregnant!” and spends
the rest of the night comforting Kara through the waves of tears, joy and panic
as reality sets in.The next day the morning sickness hits with a vengeance,
quickly followed by mood swings and cravings and all the other stereotypical
symptoms. Kara is mortified at being a slave to her biology after all, but
people learn pretty quickly not to bring it up because, oh my god kryptonian
mood swings are scary. ‘Do not piss off the pregnant alien with heat vision’
becomes the new, unofficial, super-friends & DEO mantra.Kara spends a lot of time painting and drawing, mainly scenes of krypton & her family. She has never been able to paint her family before, but now she finds it helps her feel closer to those she lost, and having their pictures on the wall makes it feel like they are somehow involved in the pregnancy. She also designs some kryptonian styled baby clothes which Winn makes for her. Clark gets the designs for traditional baby furniture from Kelex & the Jor-El A.I. and uses his farm boy skills to make them.
The clash when J’onn & Alex benched Supergirl has become
a DEO legend, but all known CCTV & sound recordings have been destroyed. No
one mentions it anywhere near the three of them, and they have learned the hard
way not to talk about it when Supergirl in on base (yes, her hearing really is
that good – see note about not pissing off the pregnant alien with heat vision).Things calm down by the third trimester and the last few
months are relatively smooth sailing again, though she does burst into tears
every time she hears about a cat caught in a tree & they won’t let her go
save it because Supergirl has been benched. Luckily J’onn is completely wrapped
around her fingers by this stage and he becomes very good at saving wayward
animals on her behalf. (The teary relieved look and the hug he gets when he returns
makes it all worth it.)Kara is inconsolable when her pregnancy makes the taste of
pot stickers change. At first she is sure that the shop changed the recipe and
Supergirl makes a personal appearance at the store to make them change it back.
They swear black & blue they haven’t changed a thing, & all the super
friends agree they still taste the same to them. There is a bit of muttering
about inferior human tastebuds, but she can tell the cook is telling the truth.
She is still half convinced that she is being pranked until Alex orders
potstickers from every store in National City and she realises they all taste
equally weird and has to admit she is the one that has changed.Lena & Cat try to cheer her up by taking her on tours of
the city’s food outlets, ordering one of everything on the menu so she can find
some new favourites. Kara knows they are really just trying to get some veggies
& other healthy food into her, but the baby is making her hungry enough to
go along with it. She’s ends up horrified when her new favourite turns out to
be a vegetarian dish… With tofu! ‘Oh my Rao Alex, I’m eating tofu, this kid has
destroyed my tastebuds, please kill me now!’ Alex thinks it is hilarious and mocks
her about it at any opportunity. It’s also a great chance to resurrect her
childhood tease about Kara being part sun loving plant and calls her a cannibal
for eating her photosynthesis brethren. Alex gets very good at dodging pillows, and spends a lot of money on apology ice cream. At least pizza still tastes good.One of the first things Alex did after learning Kara was
pregnant was enrolling in a massage class. By the time the muscle aches and
pains kick in Alex is a master and her magic massages have saved her from a melted face more than once. That, plus the line of kyrptonian proof toys and baby
products she (and Winn) have been making mean that she can get away with a lot
more than anyone else. Alex likes to think that her lifetime’s experience with
Kara’s puppy dog eyes has given her some level of resistance, but Kara knows a
little bit of bottom lip wobble, combined with a ‘for the baby’ will get her
just about anything she wants.
what if it wasn’t clark who found kara when she crash landed on earth?
what if clark was so used to hearing the crashing of space craft onto the planet that he long ago stopped checking for the cousin he was supposed to have. so, what if kara crashes into a field outside of a tiny town called blue springs, nebraska. what if the first person she meets on planet earth is not her cousin, nor jeremiah danvers or his daughter or his wife. what if kara stumbled from a cornfield and scared the ever-living shit out of a bruised and freezing fourteen-year-old maggie sawyer?
find out more with part one in the series: come up here [and stand with me]
A Slightly Cleaner Masterlist
Things might work a little wonky, but it is still being worked on and tweaked, since I’ve been in the mood to code all weekend.
Thanks again to everyone who participated!
I would be very interested, if you had any interest in it, in seeing your thoughts on the sort of woman that Susan Pevensie might fall in love with on either side of the wardrobe. Not that love is something she needs to be complete, but I’m curious.
How about a librarian, with bottle-cap glasses and moth-eaten sweaters? Susan comes by the public library, looking for background context on her latest article–
“I’m looking for a murder, or a scandal,” she told Agnes Jepsen (according to her name plate). “They assigned me this fluff piece, but I’m pretty sure there’s got to be something sordid and interesting in local flower garden history.”
Agnes pushed her round glasses up her nose– the glass was thick, her eyes blurry and distorted behind them. “Come with me,” she said, and dragged Susan back to a dusty old local memoir section. “I think there’s some buried skeletons in these…”
Susan had been trying for years to live here, and she was good at it– here on this ground, this apartment with these squeaky floors, this sandwich scattering crumbs all over her work desk. Eyes open, eyes up– she had been lost in worlds of fantasy before, and they had stolen bits of her when they went away. She had been lost in the plumbed depths of wardrobes, in the shriek of train whistles and the shrill ring of phone calls that asked you to come and identify your little sister’s body.
But she was here, now– she had work to do, friends to gossip with, cheap, smushed sandwiches to buy from the corner cart at lunchtime, and two books on influential journalists that Agnes had pushed on her. Eyes open, eyes up, don’t dream.
It was weeks before Susan realized she had memorized Agnes’s schedule– she was simply the best help, whether you knew precisely what you were looking for or not. And Susan found herself showing up on the library doorstep and saying, “Agnes, I’m looking for train schedules from the 1800s, London,” or “Agnes, you have anything on displaced samurai?” or “Ag, chemical proesses for distilling scotch whiskey?” or “Ag, something? Anything interesting. I’m a blank slate,” or “Ag, want to grab a drink when you get off?”
Susan had fought so hard to live here, but the thing was that Agnes didn’t, half the time. Agnes paid her bills and got her mousy hair cut with a clocklike precision every two months and saw her parents for dinner and tore into Susan’s newspaper assignments with a wide-eyed, present glee– but part of Agnes lived in historical accounts of subsistence farming in Virginia and the physics of seabird flight, or even in the shelves of children’s literature.
“This is one of my favorites,” Agnes told Susan once, cross-legged on a worn rug on Susan’s creaky floor. Tugging a blanket firmer around her shoulders, she turned through illustrated pages. “Other worlds, lost children. As a child, I’d turn over every green stone I found, seeing if it would send me someplace magical, like it did them. Did you ever wish things like that, when you were small?”
“No,” Susan said, tipping her head back to look at the speckled paint on the ceiling. “I read dictionaries.”
“I read dictionaries, too,” said Agnes. There were smudges in the margins of the little book, and notes written in a half dozen different pens, from a blocky child’s lettering to Agnes’s present, spidery script. “Doesn’t mean you can’t dream, too. I think that’s half the problem with schools these days– they teach kids to think, and not to dream.”
“I had an old friend who liked to say stuff like that.”
Agnes pushed her glasses up her nose. “Oh? I’d love to have a fellow grump to complain with. Are they local?”
“He died,” said Susan. She reached for her mug, but it was empty and she put it back down.
Agnes looked at her critically. “That is your answer for a depressingly large number of questions,” Agnes said. “You take this,” she said, handing her the book and wobbling to her feet in one unbalanced motion. “I’m getting you more tea, and maybe some chocolate.”
It was a Sunday, the morning light peering through the windows. Susan sat cross-legged on her worn couch, in nylons and a pale skirt with her dark hair pulled up and away from her face. She listened to Agnes putter and hum out of sight in the kitchen, and then Susan let the book in her lap fall open to the first page.
Sometimes, when you give parts of yourself away, you get something back.
Question of Smoke 