The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

so, she says it and doesn’t mean it, because what woman gives her friend a bra?  that’s weird right?  that’s reserved for… let’s say, untoward gentleman callers.  but Midge keeps thinking about it, about how Susie can’t afford nice things, and Midge gets to walk through the glorious wares of her department store (on the way to the basement) to work every day, and she’s got both her own closet AND her mother’s closet of fashionable, beautiful clothes and… she can’t rent a new apartment for Susie, one that has hot water and a window that closes and less than four rats in the walls at any given time, but… but she can buy her something else to help her out

Midge presents Susie with a finely wrapped box a week later, after much consideration (and sneaky ludicrous attempts to gauge Susie’s size while she’s not looking and wow she’s never spent so long staring at a women’s breasts before, or at least not since college and hmm, maybe she should find a reason do this more often…) and Susie has this sinking feeling of dread like. oh god Midge what frivolous misguided overgenerous bauble did Midge get her, and why, and how is she supposed to react if it’s horrid, and boy she hopes there’s a gift receipt

and Midge says brightly “I know it’s not much, but I just wanted to thank you for how much, ah, support you’ve been giving me with this comedy gigs and I wanted to give you a little support of your own.  something Jackie won’t mistake for a dishrag, or at least I hope not.  get it? support?” and Midge is not above a corny joke when she’s off the stage. now Susie’s stomach is dropping, because not only were her undergarments waved around the bar in front of everyone (Midge), but now Midge is out here buying underwear for her for some goddamn Midge-brained reason, and she wouldn’t normally care because she’s used to not being regarded as a sexual person, but oh god the thought of Midge thinking about her underwear, about her breasts is… mortifying isn’t the right word (embarrassing… thrilling… dangerous)

and she opens it and the bra is.  not something she would expect Midge to pick out for her.  it’s simple for one, well-structured, and white so it won’t show through her button ups.  there are no sequins or lace or jewels or – hey, so she doesn’t know what would be on a bra a woman like Midge would normally buy but oh god she has thought about it once or twice. by accident. very late at night. while drunk.  

“I know it’s not exactly the “done” thing to buy this kind of thing for one’s, well uh one’s agent, but hey. when have I ever been one to stick to what’s appropriate, to not overstep.  it’s a practical gift, but, I hope, a thoughtful one –” Midge is babbling a mile a minute as usual.

“there’s bows on it.” susie says dumbly, cutting her off, holding the bra in her hands like a firstborn child.  she squints.  there’s a couple obscenely tiny bows on the seams, like snowflakes at the base of a great snowy mountaincap.  the size incongruence is obscene.

“I didn’t know your style, well, I can guess based on” midge gestures towards susie’s very practical and handsome getup, thankyouverymuch “but they didn’t have a whole lot of items from the quality brands that didn’t have at least one little feminine flourish or two.  i suppose you could seam-rip it off.  it’s not structural I assume.”

“I would hope not. that’d be like taking a snowball from a mountain and causing an avalanche” susie says, still entranced. 

“if you don’t like it, we can just forget about the whole thing.  don’t worry., I just–”

“no it’s… cute” susie is talking about the bow and not the bra itself, which is actually very practical and not cute, but she’s also mostly talking about Midge.  “thank you”

it fits perfectly somehow, and susie is convinced midge is some sort of clothing witch, but that’s okay because now whenever she wears the bra she thinks of midge.

"You're staring."

"So are you."

THEM DANCING

"I can't think of anything funny to say." "Me either. It's kind of nice."

HER RESTING HER HEAD ON HIS SHOULDER

THE EASY WAY THEY ARE AROUND EACH OTHER

THE STARING, THE ROMANTIC TENSION

THEY BOTH LOOKED AT HIS BED A COUPLE TIMES BEFORE SHE CALLED IT A NIGHT, BUT THEN HE SAID "Hey, before I die. . . ." AND SHE GOT HIS MEANING AND SAID "It's a date."