𝒻𝒶𝒾𝓉𝒽

“  isn’t that what men are supposed to do?  ”        he rolls his lips back into a tight ,   thoughtful facade ,     stripping his words of any legitimacy .     “    but fair enough .      you keep your fantasies ,    i’ll keep mine .    ”      leave it to him to make this sound like an agreement that had been vetoed by both parties .    in truth ,     if she read some of his fanmail - she might realize his description wasn’t that far off of what some demented picture conjured up in their heads .     he was a bit distracted - reminiscing on past horrors when she brings up “family” ;   he blinks rapidly in succession ,    leaving his daze in a haste ,   and readjusting his focus .   now  - family, family values and the importance of family, as she so tactfully put it, isn’t really a topic he frequently visits .       "   it was low hanging fruit, to be honest.   i’m a little disappointed in myself for going for it.    ”    he hurriedly avoids diving any deeper into that note ,     backtracking in a beat of vulnerability he’s not too glad she was able to witness firsthand .    he couldn’t actually remember what was the last time he saw a happy family that wasn’t on some tv commercial about nutella ,      but whenever it comes down to choosing on weather to believe in fairies or not  – he’ll always stick to yes .    it’s important to believe in the extraordinary ,   even without proof ;   the world’s too bleak as it is .

james  —- with all the poise of a gentleman lets her scold him in utter silence ;    all sealed lips and glossed eyes ,     staring up at her ,   and the ground ,    and back at her like clockwork .  he can’t actually tell weather he hit the mark or missed it entirely ,     either .      reading’s a lot easier in the light ,     you see .      “     i hope you do.     ”     a cold ,   weary breath lingers against cerise cheeks ,      white and misty .   he cracks his knuckles ,    shifting into a more gentle ,     soft spoken demeanor .    “     i don’t want you to be unhappy.    ”     it’s too easy to believe him ,     then .     not a shred of dishonesty ,    or opening for a witty remark .    instead he merely stands up from the ground ,     brushing the dust off his torso ,     briefly eyeing the grounds to see weather his shirt is anywhere in sight.      it wasn’t.      silence reels him back into skimming through the dark for her .    “     i’m just…     curious .     you know?      pretty girl with mightier-than-thou attitude shows up in my concert ,   looking like a barbie doll dressed all conservative in the middle of the crowd -     stays ‘till the end of it.   turns out …      she wasn’t really supposed to be listening to me to begin with.     so i guess ,   i’m just …    wondering what made her tick that day.      ”    he doesn’t wait for an answer —    mostly because he doesn’t think he’ll get one ,    and because he’s feeling a bit generous .     “    anyways   —- are you gonna help me find my shirt or…    should i just stand here half-naked?       ” 

For a moment Faith thought she saw something that seemed like real annoyance before James moved past it, but she couldn’t be totally sure. She wasn’t even sure annoyance was the right emotion. Clearly something had been said he wasn’t fond of but she couldn’t pinpoint what, exactly. Anyway, she didn’t like thinking about James as having real emotions. She preferred to view him as a being incapable of emotion or any real human connection at all for that matter. It was easier that way for a number of reasons, not least of all being that she could say whatever she wanted to him and it wouldn’t matter. “Oh, don’t be disappointed in yourself,” she said with a sickly false sweetness, “it was no more pathetic than usual. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always maintained a consistent mediocrity. It would be refreshing if it wasn’t for the fact that you insist on acting like a stupid slobbering dog all the time.”

Of course, she didn’t believe he meant it when he said he didn’t want her to be unhappy. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t held much of the usual sarcasm--she had her opinion of him and that colored everything he did. Nor did she care to reevaluate. “Sure,” she said simply, looking away when he stood because even though it was dark she could see again this close up that he had his shirt off, and it felt improper even to see it accidentally. She stiffened at the mention of the concert she’d been at when she first met him, one of the many things she forced herself to go to just so she didn’t lose ever ‘friendship’ she’d made in LA, no easy feat for someone like her. “Nothing made me tick,” she snapped, still averting her eyes, staring aimlessly at the nearest wall in the dark. “I was forced there by people I know, which I’ve told you before. I’ve been a captive audience literally every time we’ve spoken.” It wasn’t totally true, but she could get away with pretending it was thanks to circumstance. Anyway, it wasn’t like she was about to start telling him her deepest secrets just because the power had gone out and they were trapped together. “What, I’m supposed to help you now?” she said, scoffing a little at his request. But to be fair, it would be quicker this way. She stood from her chair and squinted around, arms folding over her chest. “I mean, where could it be? Did you just fling the shirt off at random? Why aren’t you wearing it? You’re so vile.”

A smirk plays at her lips, she rather likes the young girl. She had to be bright to attend schools with such prestige. But even if she wasn’t bright, Lennox thinks she’d rather like the young lady. “I teach a couple classes focusing on language and writing.” She replies, and wonders if she’d bother asking about her. She had quite the reputation of terrifying young writers around the campus. “As much as I’m loather to admit it, I think I’m better suited to this campus and this place.”

“Well no one can blame you,” Faith told her genuinely, “it’s, what, a five hour drive and you can totally feel the difference in the weather.” Which was just about the only thing Faith liked better about Los Angeles. “That’s great, though, maybe I can trouble you to look over a paper of mine now and then. Unless the literature you teach is religious in nature I probably won’t be in any of your classes, unfortunately.”

“You have clearly never sewn before and have no clue what you’re talking about,” she rolled her eyes. This woman was really just annoying at this point. “Why are you so obsessed with my hair color? I’ve never heard someone bitch about a hair color so much before in my life. Sorry, love. But it’s not very Jesus like of you to insult a natural hair color that apparently your little God made. Isn’t it against the bible to be hypocritical and, I don’t know, bitchy?”

“Like sewing is some accomplishment,” Faith drawled. “Congratulations, Suzy Homemaker, we’re all so impressed you’ve mastered a basic skill. Maybe you can go hang out with all the other twelve-year-olds getting worked up about it.” The insults barely grazed Faith, who rarely went a day without encountering someone who didn’t like her and felt it necessary to let her know she was being a bad Christian. “My little god likes when people speak the truth, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Just because it hurts your feelings doesn’t make it bitchy, it just means you’re clearly not confronted with the truth very often. I can see why--you’re quite sensitive, aren’t you?”

It was definitely rude to listen in on strangers’ conversations but considering the volume of that particular scene, it had practically been unavoidable. Still, he felt a little guilty when the blonde turned to look straight at him. At least she didn’t seem too offended that he’d been laughing. “Utterly ridiculous,” he agreed with a nod, still highly amused by the scene he’d just witnessed. Growing up with no less than three sisters, it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d seen a girl go off on someone like that, but it never got old. “But this is awkward now ‘cause I was just about to slide on over and ask if you’d pose as my date for this family reunion that’s coming up,” he joked, still snickering as he took a sip from his coffee, “Can’t suggest that now without looking like a total clown.”

Sure, it was cheesy, but maybe it was kind of cute, too, and Faith allowed a small smile at the joke. “That is awkward,” she teased. “It’s a little tragic too, because if men like yourself bothered to introduce themselves like normal people then women like me might be inclined to indulge you in conversation.” She stuck a hand out, a thin gold bracelet dangling loosely from her wrist. “Faith,” she said, turning in her chair to face him more fully and indicate without words that she was doing exactly as she’d said--indulging him. She even put her book--Aquinas’s Summa Theologica--face down on the table. “So is there really a family reunion or was that the best you could come up with on the spot?”

“When did I say I was bad at my job? Do you not know how to sew? People pinch themselves all the time,” she gave a confused look to the blonde, tilting her head. “Oh, please have him send me to hell. That would be a blessing. Would make my life so much easier, actually. Sorry babe. My hair is natural, unlike your box dyed hair.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to say it,” Faith said with a condescending little chuckle, “I just assumed whoever it is you work for doesn’t like blood all over their clothes, but maybe I spoke too soon.” She didn’t ask why being sent to hell would apparently make this girl’s life easier, but she did add it to her growing list of reasons why she didn’t like her. “I didn’t say it was fake, I said it’s an atrocity. The fact that it’s a naturally-occurring atrocity just makes it all the more tragic. I’m hardly ashamed of coloring my hair, and unfortunately for you my dad would never allow me to box dye considering it would look tacky in the campaign photos. In fact, you should think about getting a professional dye job, then you wouldn’t have to walk around looking like you just crawled out of a copper mine.”

“Usually I do have manners but this is an emergency” He said uninterested in her behaviour. He watched the cafe around him and then turned to her. “You wanna drop the ageist attitude. you know fuck all about me. I’m not here to try and hit on you, I’m going to move in a second so relax.” He snapped and glared at her. The last thing he needed was a brat that wasn’t paying for his services. He watched the person leave and then let out a long sigh and stood up. “ You can go back to being a bitch now, sorry to ruin the Taylor swift sulky aesthetic you have here.” 

“I don’t remember suggesting you were hitting on me, first of all. Ew. Second, I know all I need to know just by looking at you.” She flashed him a sugary smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “And it isn’t my fault you’re older than the hills and still haven’t learned to take criticism with grace. You should work on that.” She lifted her eyebrows when he stood up from the table and threw another cuss at her, satisfied to have riled him up with just a few easy words. “Apology not accepted, nor is the foul language, but I understand I’ve upset you and as we’ve already discovered in spite of your old age you tend to resort to a more, shall we say, juvenile form of communication. Now would you like to apologize for going after an innocent twenty-something in a blind rage or were you planning on storming away like a teenage girl?”

Lana nodded “Like.. A proper dress dress.. I have sundresses and stuff.. But fancy like this?” she ran her hand over the material of one of the dresses. It felt weird. Foreign. “Simple.. I have sundresses I told you…” she replied quietly because she suddenly felt, inadequate. 

“It’s so.. conservative though..” she mumbled “Can I at least see it in another colour.. Black is so.. Boring..” she replied and looked at Faith nervously, most people never said no to her. She wondered how this would go down, and didn’t  want to really know, but now… She’d done it. 

“Sundresses don’t count,” Faith told her impatiently. “You don’t wear a sundress to a nice dinner. We’re finding you something to go out in, remember? That’s the whole point.”

She clucked in disapproval at Lana’s estimation of the dress she’d picked, pursing her lips a little. “Black is most certainly not boring, it’s elegant. But if it’ll get you to pick a dress, fine, choose something more colorful. Just don’t go for red, okay? Red is whorish.”

remorse isn’t a sentiment she inspires in him  ;   rage ,   lust ,   the compulsive need to scream into a pillow ,  but never remorse .     she can take his jabs ,    and he needs to put up with her stream of lies and bullshit .   it’s an unspoken agreement .   james scrunches his nose ,    twisting his mouth into a snarl - unaware of weather she can actually see his skepticism blossoming  - but willing to commit,  nonetheless.      “     sure …   i mean - was going along the lies of   ‘i look tastier, and people are avoiding you like the plague’ – but we can go with your version if you want.   ”      he has an arm pressed down his knee ,   wrist and hand hanging idly ,    and it comes alive to gesture along with his little quips .  

“    — and yet you continue to indulge me.     ”      a hum vibrates in his throat ;     james calls her bluff ,     all cat & canary sounding .    “   how charitable of you ,    sister faith.   ”     a dangerous kind of malice froths around each syllable ,     everything sounds perverse on his tongue ,    when he wants it to .     and as it happens ,      around her ,     he frequently feels an urge to fall back into that role   — it comes easy to him ,     like slipping in  &   out of an worn-out sweater you’re all too familiar with .    she recoils ,      he stays still ,   studying with precision faith’s evasive attics and defensive stance .      her pretty bones pop like buttons when she’s mad or    embarrassed  .    it’s difficult to discern one emotion from the other - he fathoms most of the time ,     she can’t either .    “     how high on the offensive list would that go?     like…  a 6 - a 5?    does it rank higher if you climb on top of me to stab me?   —–  i read the chapter,   but the instructions were very unclear …     ”     he lacquers his tongue with naivete ,    crafted from years of practice as a pretty boy with a fairly reliable facial structure .     it doesn’t mean much  &   it doesn’t have to  ;   he has every intention of riling her up .     “     not nearly as ambitious as you ,   is she?    don’t worry ,    i’m sure you’ll be asked to be a bridesmaid when she marries her cousin .    ”      he hasn’t made an attempt to get up yet   —– faith’s not tall enough to towers over his bent form ,    and he quite enjoys seeing her from a different perspective .     “    you get off on being mean a little,   don’t you?    judging everyone ,   looking down your perky little nose at them …     ”    his jaw unhinges into a wolfish grin .     “    i don’t mind it ,     it’s refreshing .    everyone’s so despicably nice to me .      so ,   we can play confession if you want .    i mean ,    it must be tough being told you need to be all prim  &   proper all your life  …   use this ,   don’t wear that .     read this ,   don’t read that .   don’t enjoy that ,    don’t look at this ,    vote this ,   blah blah  …       how you made it without driving a crucifix across somebody’s chest ,     is beyond me .  ”

“Must you ruin my fantasies with your own?” Faith said with a roll of her eyes, more or less useless in the dark. But of course he would take even her comment about murder and make it vulgar, and it annoyed her to no end. “I was enjoying my untainted image of killing you and being rid of all those bad jokes forever.” She’d have to pray forgiveness for enjoying it, maybe, but it was also worth it. He got on her nerves like absolutely nobody else managed to do. “Having a family is an ambition,” she said tightly, always ready to defend her best friend back home who she missed every single day, and who would have been as shocked and appalled by these people--especially James--as Faith was. “And as funny as I know you and everyone else in LA thinks it is to joke about incest in the South, I’m sorry to tell you she’s not married to her cousin, and she has a beautiful family. Really good try, though, James.”

She scoffed at his assumption, one that a few people before him had also made. Sure, she liked being honest with people, and maybe she also got a little something out of arguments when it was just so easy to get liberals riled up, but she didn’t like being mean. In fact, it thrilled her whenever she actually found someone she could stomach being nice to, rare as it was. She stayed silent throughout his whole tirade, jaw clenched and foot jiggling in agitation where it hung next to her leg, thankfully also difficult to see right now. “Have you ever considered that I like my life?” she finally snapped before he’d even gotten the last word out. “I like being prim and proper and I like knowing what kinds of media I should and shouldn’t consume in order to maintain my virtue and avoid sin.” It could be a little stuffy sometimes, but that was the sacrifice good Catholics made in order to be closer to god, right? “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. And if you’re so repulsed by my way of life and my beliefs then why, pray tell, can’t you leave me alone? Obviously it’s not as distasteful to you as you’d like people to believe.”

“I have a cross necklace, not the crucifix, obviously I use hotel bibles when I’m traveling, and I have no idea what Jonestown Kool-Aid is supposed to mean.”

“General Education professors are required to have a sense of grandiose for no reason and it helps if they also have a novel doomed to fail in the works.” She should know, she’s met enough of them. She takes a sip of her drink and regards the other girl. “My condolences for your brush with subpar interpretations of cliche texts.” She replies, as if anyone hadn’t seen something related to Shakespeare in the last decade. “Ah-you’ve found me out, I do in fact teach at UCLA but it’s not for lack of trying. I just couldn’t stand the air at Stanford.”

It was official--Faith liked this woman, if only because she seemed just as predisposed to calling people out on their failings. “He checked off both of those marks,” she laughed, “and thank you, it really was a tragedy while I was in it.” She was already delighted to hear her new acquaintance was a professor where she went to school, but the mention of Stanford made her gasp. “Oh my gosh, I did my undergraduate degree there! I tended to like the stuffiness of it but I can’t blame you for wanting to teach somewhere else, you’d be stuck there a lot longer. So should I assume you teach English, then?”

“Look, lady, maybe you’re the stupid one since I’m the one having to repeat myself: I live here.” Jamie rebukes, giving her a leering look. She schooled her face into one of calm serenity, no matter how badly she wants to scowl. She wan’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing Jamie get worked up.“I got lost looking for a fucking bookshop not a crack house.” She absentmindedly took another drag of her cigarette, her eyes never leaving the girl’s face.

“Language!” Faith scolded her without waiting for the woman to finish, eyes drifting back to the cigarette when she hit it again. She hated the smell, but it was somehow simultaneously familiar in a nostalgic way. Her dad had never been a cigarette smoker but his office had always smelled of the pipe tobacco he smoked with his political friends. “And I never said you were looking for a crack house. I assumed you’d just come from one, hence you already being drugged out. You know they don’t allow burnouts to wander in off the street in bookstores.”

Oh lord. This girl was a piece of work. “For the record, I work for a tv show and that’s why I was sewing and accidentally stabbed myself. I don’t really know how that’s a gory anecdotes?” the redhead rolled her eyes once she heard the second part. “Ah, gotta love the bible thumpers. Sweetie, if there’s a god, I doubt he’s worried about me cutting in front of you because you took forever ordering a damn coffee. He should be worried about this mess of a world and clearly that’s not happening anytime soon.”

“Believe me, it’s disgusting. But if you’re so bad at your job I’m sure you’ll be let go soon, anyway--I wouldn’t worry about anymore stab wounds.” She smiled and there was venom in it, always delighted when she found people who seemed especially offended by her religious language. “Of course there’s a god, and I can guarantee you he’s getting ready to send you to hell so he doesn’t have to listen to your whining anymore or look at that orange atrocity on your head. Really good argument, though, do you have anymore?”