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On that last point to demonstrate how my lovely, sweet, well-meaning father is so much more emotionally repressed than the entire cast of The Terror and Pride and Prejudice put together
He didn't realise he was in love with my mother, a woman he'd been friends with for years, until the Christmas he was wrapping presents for her and realised he'd bought, among other things, a recording of the incredibly romantic single And So It Goes by Billy Joel, a necklace with a single pearl inside a shell (because it was 'special and beautiful just like her'), and a little wooden model of a yacht, because he'd recently had a dream that she'd gone off with a millionaire with a yacht and it had 'really unnerved him'
(I...he bought the fucking presents without coming to this conclusion. he paid money for a goddamn pearl necklace and a romantic single and thought this was a totally normal platonic thing to do. I share DNA with this man, that's what most alarms me)
Apparently he had the revelation sitting there with the scissors and wrapping paper and then promptly decided to propose to her. So, you know, fic writers, if you need inspiration for emotionally repressed idiots, look no further than this man.
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by: mldrgrl
Rating: PG
Summary: A Hanella Twitter prompt, of sorts. Hank introducing Stella as his wife. https://twitter.com/hole4gillian/status/1411255101990203392?s=21
âImagine them at a party for Hanks new book and heâs so excited to show her off and introduce her to everyone as his wife!!!!!!!!! đđđđđâ
The whole Zoom appearance thing was getting to be old hat, so when Hank was asked to appear live and in person at the reopening of an independent book store he frequented, he jumped at the opportunity. Â He missed reading to people that actually existed and werenât just little boxes on a screen. Â He missed that instant feedback and energy that only a live audience could provide. Â He missed being the center of attention. Â
The appearance was on a Tuesday evening. Â He asked Stella to go, but she had a late class that night. Â He asked Becca to come, but Ziggy had a puppy training session. Â He wasnât terribly disappointed. Â It was a rare occurrence to have any of his family at an event and he was fine with it.
Hank was greeted by the owner and manager of Read This, a man named Philip, who he considered to be a step above an acquaintance, but not quite a friend. Â They had a relationship built upon reciprocity. Â Hank was a regular customer, even name dropped the store a few times in interviews to give it a boost, and Philip always stocked his books and made sure signed copies were on display.
The event space in the store was just a small stage at the back, barely large enough to fit two chairs comfortably, and an assortment of mismatched folding chairs scattered in front of it. Â The bookstacks were at angles, pointed towards the stage in a vee formation like an arrow down the aisle. Â Hank had done a few signings there in the past and they always felt more like intimate gatherings than events.
Philip kicked off the appearance with a short speech thanking everyone for coming out and for supporting the store over the years. Â He kept it short and simple and then gave Hank the floor to a round of applause. Â Hank stepped up onto the stage and gave Philip a quick hug before he sat down. Â All the seats out in the audience were full - all fifteen or twenty of them. Â He took a passing glance at the crowd as he unfolded the pages heâd brought with him that had been tucked into his back pocket.
âAny of you motherfuckers blog about this later and call me an old man for what Iâm about to do, fuck you in advance,â he said, taking out the reading glasses he had hooked to the collar of his shirt that had recently become a necessity. Â
Everyone laughed. Â Someone woo-hooed from the audience and Hank dropped his chin to look over the rim of his glasses. Â
âPhilip said I could read whatever the hell I wanted,â Hank said. Â âSo Iâm going to read an excerpt from a new novel Iâve got coming out in a few months called Alone Together. Â A couple things you should know going in, the novel follows the story of Miranda and Scott, a married couple who are on the verge of calling it quits after fifteen years when the pandemic hits and forces them hunker down together when theyâd really rather be anywhere else. Â This bit Iâm about to read is about half-way in, when Scott is starting to reflect on what exactly went wrong and when.â
Hank paused to smooth his pages again. Â When he looked up, he straightened his shoulders in surprise. Â He saw Stella, leaning against one of the bookstacks with a mild smile on her face. Â She was in her work clothes, a white silk blouse and fawn colored pencil skirt and tan heels. Â She had a tan blazer over her arm and her briefcase in hand as well. Â He took a subtle glance at his watch as he adjusted his pages. Â Her night class should have only started a half an hour ago.
âUh,â Hank started and then hid a grin behind his fist as he cleared his throat. Â âScott watched his wife at her computer from across the room. Â She had her headset on and she was laughing. Â He couldnât actually remember the last time heâd heard her laugh. Â It occurred to him that heâd forgotten what it sounded like.â
It took about fifteen minutes for Hank to read the full excerpt. Â He was momentarily distracted when he saw Becca walking down the aisle. Â She went straight to Stella, gave her a hug, and then turned towards the stage with Stellaâs arm across her shoulders. Â The surprise of having both his wife and daughter there for him almost made him cry.
When he finished, the audience clapped, and Philip came back onto the stage to moderate audience questions. Â All the questions were the same variations of questions he had been asked his entire career. Â He could answer them in his sleep. Â While he was droning on about his routine and writing habits, he saw Becca tip her head back, whisper something in Stellaâs ear, and then duck out from under her arm and walk away. Â He hoped she wasnât leaving without saying goodbye.
âGentleman in the green shirt,â Philip said.
âYou said earlier that you were inspired by the pandemic, so I have to ask, how much is fiction and how much is reality?â
âAre you asking me if I based it off my own life?â Hank asked. Â âWell, first of all, I want to make a broad statement about writing in general. Â That whole âwrite what you knowâ garbage that people, mainly professors, letâs be honest, try to instill into you, is bullshit. Â Do you think Bram Stoker was a vampire? Â Do you think Thoms Harris was a cannibal? Â And believe me, Iâm not saying that writers donât cull from their real life when theyâre putting words to paper, but there always seems to be this assumption that if youâre writing a modern story, set in a modern world, that somehow that must be your life and your voice.
âUnlike Scott, I am happily married to the most beautiful, intelligent, way out of my league woman and I would never forget, not even for a hot second, that I am the luckiest bastard alive. Â We started off the pandemic in very close quarters and when I was trying to think about what I might be interested in writing next, it occurred to me that I could very well be in a miserable position if my life was different. Â But, itâs not my life that I was imagining when I finally sat down to write. Â It was two people who were at odds with each other and how would they respond to this?
âIâll say this, though, and then Iâll get off my high horse on the subject. Â There is one thing in the story that I gave to Scott that belongs to me. Â I even read from that passage tonight, and Iâll read it again.â
Hank put his glasses back on and flipped through his pages until he found the paragraph he wanted. Â He glanced up and out to where Stella was before he re-read the lines.
âHe could recall in stunning detail the moment he knew he was in love with her. Â It wasnât a romantic moment. Â They werenât out on a date. Â It wasnât during or after sex, when he was naturally euphoric. Â It was on a hot summer morning in August when the air conditioner had gone out overnight and theyâd both slept poorly and were pissed off at the world. Â He watched her angrily brushing her teeth with her pink cheeks and dark circles under her eyes and in his exhaustion and anger he wished for a moment that she wasnât there, but then he had a flash of his life without her and suddenly he felt a swelling in his chest that stole his breath. Â He never wanted to envision a life without her again, not for a minute.â
Hank stared at the page for a few beats before he finally took off his glasses again and looked up. Â He first looked for the man that had asked the question and then he turned his gaze to Stella. Â
âThe fictional situation was different,â he said. Â âBut, the feeling was the same.â
Stella gave him a subtle smile and her lips puckered very briefly. Â His own lips twitched in response and he finally cut his eyes away. Â He took a few more questions and then Philip thanked him for his time and invited anyone that wanted to stay to have a book signed to wait for a few minutes as they set up the table.
As people began to talk amongst themselves, Hank left the stage to go to Stella. Â She was chatting with Becca, who had returned with two cups of coffee from the cafe next door.
âHey,â Hank said, sliding his arm around Stellaâs waist and squeezing her hip.
Stella put a hand on Hankâs face and her thumb briefly circled his mouth. Â She didnât say anything, but her eyes held his in a warm gaze. Â She tilted her chin up at him and he leaned down and kissed her cheek.
âDaughter,â he said, turning to Becca while still holding onto Stella. Â He put his hand on the top of her head and kissed the part in her hair.
âFather.â
âIâm glad you came.â
âWe thought we would take you to dinner,â Stella said. Â âWhen youâre finished.â
âI would love that.â
Philip came up from behind Hank and said his name. Â âWeâre ready for you,â Philip said.
âPhilip, this is my wife, Stella Gibson. Â And my daughter, Rebecca Moody.â
âLovely to meet you,â Philip said to Stella and then nodded to Becca. Â âWe sold out of the hardcover of your last book. Â Please, let me know if youâd ever like to do a signing.â
âSure,â Becca said.
âYouâd have to put twice as many chairs out,â Hank said. Â He could tell Becca wanted to roll her eyes at him so bad.
âGo do your thing,â Stella said, putting her hand over Hankâs on her hip. Â She rubbed her thumb over his and he captured it and pinned it down for a moment. Â He nodded and then kissed her cheek again.
âLove you,â he whispered into her ear.
âI see what you mean,â Philip said, walking Hank back to the stage where a folding table was set up. Â âShe is out of your league.â
âRight?â Hank said with a laugh. Â âAnd she married me. Â Unfuckingbelievable.â