Just Like You
Les Temps
February 11, 2011
They got married on Hanna's birthday.
They were inside a tiny church made of white stones, the wooden pews decorated with the dusty pink flowers that Hanna's mother had somehow procured in the middle of winter. It was the same church that they spent the Sundays of their childhood in. The same, senescent church in which a little girl with messy hair had held Shaun's hand for the first time. Hanna's hair was neat and pretty now, and she looked like some kind of wonderful in her lofty wedding dress, all lace and folds and smiles.
Her hand was warm in his, her ring glinting in the light while Shaun stared at her Tiffany blue fingernails. They had white hearts and ribbons. Another sign that she was still Hanna, though years had aged them both.
"You know how much I love you, right?"
She was smiling. Shaun could feel her lips curling against his neck as they hugged, her scent wafting through his nose . She smelled like L'Air de Temps and happiness.
"Yeah."
December 26, 2008
Regret starts a little like this:
"My parents are getting divorced."
Alcohol always made Hanna say things she would never say sober.
It was snowing and they were getting drunk off of wine on the back porch of the cabin Shaun's parents owned. They only ever used it when it was fishing season, and the river was frozen this time of the year. Only Shaun and Hanna ever came.
Shaun had nicked the wine bottle from his parents cellar after Hanna called him, but he had forgotten the glasses. They drank it in hearty swigs while the wet snow seeped though their clothing because neither one of them had bothered to dress like a normal person with an ounce of common sense. Hanna was in her pajamas, wearing Shaun's coat. Shaun was jacket-less and looked like he just threw on the first things his hands had reached, which he had.
Hanna felt stupid, letting tear well up in her eyes as if her parents were the first couple to decide to separate in America. It had been dumb to drag Shaun into it, she decided. He had never learned how to deal with people who were unhappy and she knew that. It was too late now, though. The words were out in the air like aired laundry.
Hanna felt him stiffen beside her and she let out a dry laugh.
"That sucks," he said finally.
He was frowning and he looked uncomfortable.
Hanna shifted her head onto his shoulder, absentmindedly picking at the peeling white paint. "Dad's been having an affair for years now, apparently. I had no idea."
The wine was running dangerously low and her tongue became looser as it disappeared done her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and she could see the frozen river from where she sat, winding its way through the trees and bank like a fat snake. She hated rivers. She hated the cold and she hated the snow and how dark it was when it was barely six in the afternoon.
She hated her father for ruining everything she ever knew.
"How could I not know?" she muttered. "He was my dad and I never thought anything of all the time he spent away from home."
"He's an asshole, Han." Shaun declared, his blue eyes bright with some type of emotion. Hanna couldn't tell what it was. She had always been rubbish at reading people, but she had always known Shaun more than she should have. But she couldn't tell and that was the beginning of everything.
"He has a daughter, Shaun. A little girl who's four or five with fucking blonde hair and stupid brown eyes that smiles because she knows nothing."
Shaun stayed silent now. He wrapped his arms around her and Hanna buried her face in the fabric of his chest. Her cold, red hands gripped his shirts in tight fists as she breathed roughly.
"He showed me her picture, can you believe it?" Hanna continued, angry. God, she was so furious that her blood might have melted the snow. "Wanted me to meet my sister or some crap like that. They can all rot for all I care. Him, his daughter, that whore..."
Shaun held her until all she was doing was staring at the snow, too emotionally drained to scream or do anything else. She held it in her hands, watching it disappear between the cracks of her fingers before grabbing more and packing it into a ball. She grimaced.
They built a snowman, a pathetic looking thing that was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood if only by a little. His nose was a group of stick angled to form a cone and he only had one arm. They had run out of twigs and had retreated indoors, too cold to look for more.
Shaun and Hanna looked at it from the window inside the cabin, a pool of water forming beneath their feel as the snow melted off their shoulders. The fireplace roared softly as it crackled behind them. The flames sent shadows dancing on the ground and the sound of burning firewood was slowly lulling them to sleep as if they were mere children. Hanna smiled weakly and threaded her fingers through his, pressing her nose against the glass.
He kissed her then, though he probably shouldn't have.
And years later, when trying to remember, Shaun could never recall if she kissed him back.
January 2, 2009
The next time Shaun heard from her was after New Years.
Hanna had traveled back to New York the day after they had gotten drunk in his parent's cabin and didn't bother to tell anyone. Shaun thought she had been home until she sent him a picture of her in Times Square, smiling as if she hadn't hated the world a week earlier. He hadn't bothered her until then, thinking she needed space to adjust.
Shaun hadn't thought that she would literally need space, though.
Hanna was off. He could tell that things were wrong, but how could he even help her? She was in New York. Shaun wasn't a magician and Hanna didn't seem like she wanted any help right now either.
He leaned against a window, watching the snow covered logs neatly stacked in his backyard. His mother was trying to bake in the kitchen while his father eyed her carefully, making sure nothing caught on fire. Shaun's mom had never been known for being domestic. No, it was Hanna's mother who made the cupcakes for bake sales and had scrapbooks upon scrapbooks documenting Hanna's life. He had been slightly jealous, once. Now he was just glad that his family was still miraculously together, selfish as that was.
"I'm sorry, Shaun. Really, I am."
Shaun sighed, shifting his cellphone to his left hand. "You left without even telling me. I thought you were home and then you send me a picture of you in freaking New York."
"I couldn't stay there. I know I should have told you, but I couldn't stay anymore with my mom pretending everything was okay while my father paraded around with that two-cent tramp of his somewhere in town."
Her voice sounded normal, completely level and calm. Clinical.
"Hanna..."
"Let's not talk about that anymore, okay? How are you? I haven't even asked you anything since I went home for the holidays, I was so messed up by my family life."
"Fine, I guess. Mom's trying to bake."
"What? No way! Is your dad making sure she doesn't hurt herself or anything? I remember that time she tried to make a turkey for Thanksgiving. It was... I don't even know."
As she talked it was if the impending divorce, the kiss, hadn't happened.
Just like that she was Hanna again and things were okay.
January 17, 2010
It wasn't that she didn't think about it.
The Kiss. It had been momentous, like the painting Shaun had shown her during one of his attempts to make her cultured.
So she did think about it, quite frequently to be honest. How could she not? Shaun had been one of her best friends since she was a little girl and she loved him. He had been there when she fractured her wrist after a soccer match and when she decided that being a vegetarian was the way to go. Shaun didn't even tease her when she ate meat a few days later while her other friends had.
He was Shaun and that was the problem.
Hanna saw the appeal of it, of them. They had already went through all the messy parts of getting to know someone. She knew that he hated barbecue and ketchup, and that he was allergic to cats. Shaun knew all her weird quirks and habits. They had the potential to be perfect, really. Shaun and Hanna, Hanna and Shaun.
And she missed him.
She knew the moment that she got in her car that she should have told him that she was leaving, but she was afraid of what might happen if she did. What he would do, what she would do... Hanna didn't want to mess anything up. She didn't want to stay in town knowing that her dad was there with his bastard kid and mistress while her mother made their house look like something from the winter edition of Home and Gardens. She couldn't deal with it. She didn't want to and so she didn't. It was that simple.
Things with Shaun had always been like that too. Simple. As easy as breathing.
But she wasn't sure she could untangle years of emotion and single out what love was. She knew love, of course. She loved her mother, she loved her friends. She loved Shaun. What she didn't know was what made romantic love different. How could you know you want to share the intimate details your life with someone?
How do you know?
They got married on Hanna's birthday.
They were inside a tiny church made of white stones, the wooden pews decorated with the dusty pink flowers that Hanna's mother had somehow procured in the middle of winter. It was the same church that they spent the Sundays of their childhood in. The same, senescent church in which a little girl with messy hair had held Shaun's hand for the first time. Hanna's hair was neat and pretty now, and she looked like some kind of wonderful in her lofty wedding dress, all lace and folds and smiles.
Her hand was warm in his, her ring glinting in the light while Shaun stared at her Tiffany blue fingernails. They had white hearts and ribbons. Another sign that she was still Hanna, though years had aged them both.
"You know how much I love you, right?"
She was smiling. Shaun could feel her lips curling against his neck as they hugged, her scent wafting through his nose . She smelled like L'Air de Temps and happiness.
"Yeah."
December 26, 2008
Regret starts a little like this:
"My parents are getting divorced."
Alcohol always made Hanna say things she would never say sober.
It was snowing and they were getting drunk off of wine on the back porch of the cabin Shaun's parents owned. They only ever used it when it was fishing season, and the river was frozen this time of the year. Only Shaun and Hanna ever came.
Shaun had nicked the wine bottle from his parents cellar after Hanna called him, but he had forgotten the glasses. They drank it in hearty swigs while the wet snow seeped though their clothing because neither one of them had bothered to dress like a normal person with an ounce of common sense. Hanna was in her pajamas, wearing Shaun's coat. Shaun was jacket-less and looked like he just threw on the first things his hands had reached, which he had.
Hanna felt stupid, letting tear well up in her eyes as if her parents were the first couple to decide to separate in America. It had been dumb to drag Shaun into it, she decided. He had never learned how to deal with people who were unhappy and she knew that. It was too late now, though. The words were out in the air like aired laundry.
Hanna felt him stiffen beside her and she let out a dry laugh.
"That sucks," he said finally.
He was frowning and he looked uncomfortable.
Hanna shifted her head onto his shoulder, absentmindedly picking at the peeling white paint. "Dad's been having an affair for years now, apparently. I had no idea."
The wine was running dangerously low and her tongue became looser as it disappeared done her throat. Her cheeks were flushed and she could see the frozen river from where she sat, winding its way through the trees and bank like a fat snake. She hated rivers. She hated the cold and she hated the snow and how dark it was when it was barely six in the afternoon.
She hated her father for ruining everything she ever knew.
"How could I not know?" she muttered. "He was my dad and I never thought anything of all the time he spent away from home."
"He's an asshole, Han." Shaun declared, his blue eyes bright with some type of emotion. Hanna couldn't tell what it was. She had always been rubbish at reading people, but she had always known Shaun more than she should have. But she couldn't tell and that was the beginning of everything.
"He has a daughter, Shaun. A little girl who's four or five with fucking blonde hair and stupid brown eyes that smiles because she knows nothing."
Shaun stayed silent now. He wrapped his arms around her and Hanna buried her face in the fabric of his chest. Her cold, red hands gripped his shirts in tight fists as she breathed roughly.
"He showed me her picture, can you believe it?" Hanna continued, angry. God, she was so furious that her blood might have melted the snow. "Wanted me to meet my sister or some crap like that. They can all rot for all I care. Him, his daughter, that whore..."
Shaun held her until all she was doing was staring at the snow, too emotionally drained to scream or do anything else. She held it in her hands, watching it disappear between the cracks of her fingers before grabbing more and packing it into a ball. She grimaced.
They built a snowman, a pathetic looking thing that was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood if only by a little. His nose was a group of stick angled to form a cone and he only had one arm. They had run out of twigs and had retreated indoors, too cold to look for more.
Shaun and Hanna looked at it from the window inside the cabin, a pool of water forming beneath their feel as the snow melted off their shoulders. The fireplace roared softly as it crackled behind them. The flames sent shadows dancing on the ground and the sound of burning firewood was slowly lulling them to sleep as if they were mere children. Hanna smiled weakly and threaded her fingers through his, pressing her nose against the glass.
He kissed her then, though he probably shouldn't have.
And years later, when trying to remember, Shaun could never recall if she kissed him back.
January 2, 2009
The next time Shaun heard from her was after New Years.
Hanna had traveled back to New York the day after they had gotten drunk in his parent's cabin and didn't bother to tell anyone. Shaun thought she had been home until she sent him a picture of her in Times Square, smiling as if she hadn't hated the world a week earlier. He hadn't bothered her until then, thinking she needed space to adjust.
Shaun hadn't thought that she would literally need space, though.
Hanna was off. He could tell that things were wrong, but how could he even help her? She was in New York. Shaun wasn't a magician and Hanna didn't seem like she wanted any help right now either.
He leaned against a window, watching the snow covered logs neatly stacked in his backyard. His mother was trying to bake in the kitchen while his father eyed her carefully, making sure nothing caught on fire. Shaun's mom had never been known for being domestic. No, it was Hanna's mother who made the cupcakes for bake sales and had scrapbooks upon scrapbooks documenting Hanna's life. He had been slightly jealous, once. Now he was just glad that his family was still miraculously together, selfish as that was.
"I'm sorry, Shaun. Really, I am."
Shaun sighed, shifting his cellphone to his left hand. "You left without even telling me. I thought you were home and then you send me a picture of you in freaking New York."
"I couldn't stay there. I know I should have told you, but I couldn't stay anymore with my mom pretending everything was okay while my father paraded around with that two-cent tramp of his somewhere in town."
Her voice sounded normal, completely level and calm. Clinical.
"Hanna..."
"Let's not talk about that anymore, okay? How are you? I haven't even asked you anything since I went home for the holidays, I was so messed up by my family life."
"Fine, I guess. Mom's trying to bake."
"What? No way! Is your dad making sure she doesn't hurt herself or anything? I remember that time she tried to make a turkey for Thanksgiving. It was... I don't even know."
As she talked it was if the impending divorce, the kiss, hadn't happened.
Just like that she was Hanna again and things were okay.
January 17, 2010
It wasn't that she didn't think about it.
The Kiss. It had been momentous, like the painting Shaun had shown her during one of his attempts to make her cultured.
So she did think about it, quite frequently to be honest. How could she not? Shaun had been one of her best friends since she was a little girl and she loved him. He had been there when she fractured her wrist after a soccer match and when she decided that being a vegetarian was the way to go. Shaun didn't even tease her when she ate meat a few days later while her other friends had.
He was Shaun and that was the problem.
Hanna saw the appeal of it, of them. They had already went through all the messy parts of getting to know someone. She knew that he hated barbecue and ketchup, and that he was allergic to cats. Shaun knew all her weird quirks and habits. They had the potential to be perfect, really. Shaun and Hanna, Hanna and Shaun.
And she missed him.
She knew the moment that she got in her car that she should have told him that she was leaving, but she was afraid of what might happen if she did. What he would do, what she would do... Hanna didn't want to mess anything up. She didn't want to stay in town knowing that her dad was there with his bastard kid and mistress while her mother made their house look like something from the winter edition of Home and Gardens. She couldn't deal with it. She didn't want to and so she didn't. It was that simple.
Things with Shaun had always been like that too. Simple. As easy as breathing.
But she wasn't sure she could untangle years of emotion and single out what love was. She knew love, of course. She loved her mother, she loved her friends. She loved Shaun. What she didn't know was what made romantic love different. How could you know you want to share the intimate details your life with someone?
How do you know?
♠ ♠ ♠
image credit- pink blossom