Butterflies
Jan. 8th, 2012 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Butterflies
Rating: PG.
Summary: Clara makes a choice.
Date: June 2014
Notes: Prepare for some mood whiplash.
Clara got home at six-thirty that evening and immediately went into a frenzy of activity. She was meeting Kevin at the restaurant at eight. It was half an hour away. The clock was ticking.
Fortunately she'd had the sense to pick out her outfit ahead of time. The ice-blue silk dress, the silver and sapphire necklace her father had given her when she graduated from college, silver sandals were all laid out on the bed. It was a nice, balmy June evening, but she put on hose anyway, because you never knew when the weather would change moods and decide to storm.
Clara had had quite enough of June thunderstorms, thank you very much. She thought of Kevin, of the job offer he'd just gotten in California, and felt a warm little thrill. Imagine living in California, where the sun almost never stopped shining. She'd never been to California, but she was sure she'd love it.
She smoothed down her foundation, accented her eyes with a touch of blue eyeshadow that she'd just bought. No mascara; she always wound up applying too much, and it rubbed off around her eyes and made her look like she'd been beaten. Not enough time to do much with her hair, but Kevin liked it loose, so she fluffed it up a bit, combed it into casual waves and left it alone.
She hurried into the bedroom and changed into a bra that actually lifted instead of just supporting, then paused in front of the mirror for a quick check. Hair done, makeup done, no runs in the hose, underwear that wouldn't cause unsightly lines in the dress...
Nails! Cursing, she pulled the hose off again and settled down for the world's fastest pedicure. She'd done her hands before work, but they could use another coat. Working with kids chipped nail polish faster than anything else, up to and including some of the construction work she'd done in the Peace Corps.
Thank goodness she'd showered and shaved this morning. There was simply no time to do it now.
Shaking her hands and feet frantically, she glanced at the clock and swore. Seven twenty-five! Where had the time gone? No time for hose now, for damn sure. She shimmied into the dress, zipped it up, and slipped her feet carefully into the sandals. Her nails were probably dry by now, but she wasn't taking any chances; she slipped her necklace over her head and put on her wrap using only the pads of her fingers.
She paused in front of the mirror again on her way out, just for a quick check. She wanted to look perfect tonight. She wanted tonight to be perfect.
Tonight, if she was right, Kevin would ask her to marry him.
The butterflies that had been swirling in her stomach all day did a jump at the thought. Marriage. She was going to get married, to a man she loved desperately, a man she'd been with for a year and a half now and no sign of diminishing interest from either one of them, despite her graduate career, despite his work. A man who accepted her as she was, and never pushed her towards sex, who was interested in her asexuality but didn't pathologize it. A man who wanted her, and nothing else.
She was so happy, she thought her heart was going to burst.
Clara beamed at her face in the mirror, and hurried out of the apartment.
Kevin beat her to the restaurant as he always did, but Clara never minded. It was so nice to be able to walk into a restaurant or bar and see him waving from a table, smiling at her in a way that never failed to make her melt. She waved back, beamed at the maitre'd, and told the amused woman that she could find her own way.
"Clara," Kevin said, standing up and holding out both hands for hers. She took them, and allowed herself to be drawn in for a kiss. "You look beautiful."
Clara dimpled at him. "Thank you."
He smiled at her, and pulled her chair out for her, which thrilled Clara. He didn't do it often, only when he felt particularly gentlemanly, and the appearance of the gesture now made her feel... well, not hopeful, she was pretty sure of what was coming, but pleased. Happy.
They ordered, ate, chatted. Clara couldn't remember anything specific, only the warm golden haze of well-being that lay under everything she said and did. Only the certain feeling, when she leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine at the end of the meal, that this was right.
"Clara," Kevin said, and put his wine down. He leaned forward, looked unwontedly serious. "I have something I need to say to you."
The butterflies, which had settled down a bit as she ate, started up again with a vengeance. "I'm listening," she said, and set her wine down as well. She sat up straight and folded her hands on the table.
He took a deep breath, smiled at her. "I love you so much," he said. "You know that, right?"
She beamed at him, unable to hold back the smile even if she'd wanted to. "I do, yes, but I don't mind being told again.
Kevin laughed. "I love you," he said, again, picked up one of her hands and laid a kiss on the knuckles. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Clara..."
Here it came. She sat up straighter, tried not to giggle from sheer joy.
"Clara," he said. "I want you consider getting therapy."
That was so completely not what she'd expected that for a moment, Clara could only blink at him. "...I'm sorry?" she managed, at last. "I don't understand."
He sighed, and leaned back again, ruffling a hand through his hair and looking a little embarrassed. "Yeah, that didn't come out well. I... look, I love you, so much, and I have to say I'm worried about you. This aversion to sex..."
"It's not an aversion," Clara said, stung unexpectedly. "I just don't want to have it."
"I know," he said, went back to serious. "That's what frightens me. I don't want you to do anything you don't want, but I do wish you'd try and find out why you don't want it."
She shook her head, unable to believe this was happening. "Kevin, we've talked about this. There's no reason, it's just how I am."
"I don't believe that," he said, earnestly. "I can't believe that. Please, if you'd only..."
She raised a hand; he stopped talking. "Kevin," she said, slowly. "Is this a dealbreaker?"
It was his turn to look confused. "What do you mean?"
"Can you be with me," she asked, "and just accept that I'm not interested in sex?" She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice, but it crept in anyway. "Can you love me that way?"
Kevin looked down at his hands. "Clara," he said, very quietly, "I don't think anyone can accept that and claim to love you."
Oh.
It didn't hurt, Clara realized, slowly, dizzily. It didn't hurt. It didn't... anything.
She'd thought he was going to propose.
"Then I don't think this is going to work," she said, at last, and got up.
"Clara." He grabbed for her arm. She jerked away automatically. "Clara, wait, please! Won't you even consider..."
She rounded on him. "Won't you even consider that this is just the way I am? There's no trauma. There's no pain. There's no reason, I was just born like this! I am this way and if you can't accept that..." Oh, God, she was going to cry. "I love you. But if you can't accept that then this can't work."
This time, when she walked away, he didn't stop her.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Clara makes a choice.
Date: June 2014
Notes: Prepare for some mood whiplash.
Clara got home at six-thirty that evening and immediately went into a frenzy of activity. She was meeting Kevin at the restaurant at eight. It was half an hour away. The clock was ticking.
Fortunately she'd had the sense to pick out her outfit ahead of time. The ice-blue silk dress, the silver and sapphire necklace her father had given her when she graduated from college, silver sandals were all laid out on the bed. It was a nice, balmy June evening, but she put on hose anyway, because you never knew when the weather would change moods and decide to storm.
Clara had had quite enough of June thunderstorms, thank you very much. She thought of Kevin, of the job offer he'd just gotten in California, and felt a warm little thrill. Imagine living in California, where the sun almost never stopped shining. She'd never been to California, but she was sure she'd love it.
She smoothed down her foundation, accented her eyes with a touch of blue eyeshadow that she'd just bought. No mascara; she always wound up applying too much, and it rubbed off around her eyes and made her look like she'd been beaten. Not enough time to do much with her hair, but Kevin liked it loose, so she fluffed it up a bit, combed it into casual waves and left it alone.
She hurried into the bedroom and changed into a bra that actually lifted instead of just supporting, then paused in front of the mirror for a quick check. Hair done, makeup done, no runs in the hose, underwear that wouldn't cause unsightly lines in the dress...
Nails! Cursing, she pulled the hose off again and settled down for the world's fastest pedicure. She'd done her hands before work, but they could use another coat. Working with kids chipped nail polish faster than anything else, up to and including some of the construction work she'd done in the Peace Corps.
Thank goodness she'd showered and shaved this morning. There was simply no time to do it now.
Shaking her hands and feet frantically, she glanced at the clock and swore. Seven twenty-five! Where had the time gone? No time for hose now, for damn sure. She shimmied into the dress, zipped it up, and slipped her feet carefully into the sandals. Her nails were probably dry by now, but she wasn't taking any chances; she slipped her necklace over her head and put on her wrap using only the pads of her fingers.
She paused in front of the mirror again on her way out, just for a quick check. She wanted to look perfect tonight. She wanted tonight to be perfect.
Tonight, if she was right, Kevin would ask her to marry him.
The butterflies that had been swirling in her stomach all day did a jump at the thought. Marriage. She was going to get married, to a man she loved desperately, a man she'd been with for a year and a half now and no sign of diminishing interest from either one of them, despite her graduate career, despite his work. A man who accepted her as she was, and never pushed her towards sex, who was interested in her asexuality but didn't pathologize it. A man who wanted her, and nothing else.
She was so happy, she thought her heart was going to burst.
Clara beamed at her face in the mirror, and hurried out of the apartment.
Kevin beat her to the restaurant as he always did, but Clara never minded. It was so nice to be able to walk into a restaurant or bar and see him waving from a table, smiling at her in a way that never failed to make her melt. She waved back, beamed at the maitre'd, and told the amused woman that she could find her own way.
"Clara," Kevin said, standing up and holding out both hands for hers. She took them, and allowed herself to be drawn in for a kiss. "You look beautiful."
Clara dimpled at him. "Thank you."
He smiled at her, and pulled her chair out for her, which thrilled Clara. He didn't do it often, only when he felt particularly gentlemanly, and the appearance of the gesture now made her feel... well, not hopeful, she was pretty sure of what was coming, but pleased. Happy.
They ordered, ate, chatted. Clara couldn't remember anything specific, only the warm golden haze of well-being that lay under everything she said and did. Only the certain feeling, when she leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine at the end of the meal, that this was right.
"Clara," Kevin said, and put his wine down. He leaned forward, looked unwontedly serious. "I have something I need to say to you."
The butterflies, which had settled down a bit as she ate, started up again with a vengeance. "I'm listening," she said, and set her wine down as well. She sat up straight and folded her hands on the table.
He took a deep breath, smiled at her. "I love you so much," he said. "You know that, right?"
She beamed at him, unable to hold back the smile even if she'd wanted to. "I do, yes, but I don't mind being told again.
Kevin laughed. "I love you," he said, again, picked up one of her hands and laid a kiss on the knuckles. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Clara..."
Here it came. She sat up straighter, tried not to giggle from sheer joy.
"Clara," he said. "I want you consider getting therapy."
That was so completely not what she'd expected that for a moment, Clara could only blink at him. "...I'm sorry?" she managed, at last. "I don't understand."
He sighed, and leaned back again, ruffling a hand through his hair and looking a little embarrassed. "Yeah, that didn't come out well. I... look, I love you, so much, and I have to say I'm worried about you. This aversion to sex..."
"It's not an aversion," Clara said, stung unexpectedly. "I just don't want to have it."
"I know," he said, went back to serious. "That's what frightens me. I don't want you to do anything you don't want, but I do wish you'd try and find out why you don't want it."
She shook her head, unable to believe this was happening. "Kevin, we've talked about this. There's no reason, it's just how I am."
"I don't believe that," he said, earnestly. "I can't believe that. Please, if you'd only..."
She raised a hand; he stopped talking. "Kevin," she said, slowly. "Is this a dealbreaker?"
It was his turn to look confused. "What do you mean?"
"Can you be with me," she asked, "and just accept that I'm not interested in sex?" She tried to keep the pleading out of her voice, but it crept in anyway. "Can you love me that way?"
Kevin looked down at his hands. "Clara," he said, very quietly, "I don't think anyone can accept that and claim to love you."
Oh.
It didn't hurt, Clara realized, slowly, dizzily. It didn't hurt. It didn't... anything.
She'd thought he was going to propose.
"Then I don't think this is going to work," she said, at last, and got up.
"Clara." He grabbed for her arm. She jerked away automatically. "Clara, wait, please! Won't you even consider..."
She rounded on him. "Won't you even consider that this is just the way I am? There's no trauma. There's no pain. There's no reason, I was just born like this! I am this way and if you can't accept that..." Oh, God, she was going to cry. "I love you. But if you can't accept that then this can't work."
This time, when she walked away, he didn't stop her.
