Title: Way To Make
Dec. 1st, 2010 04:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cosmic_tuesdaysTitle: Way To Make
Author: Hannah Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Companion piece to Left of West. Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phinnia and emblem for discussion. Title from the R.E.M. song “At My Most Beautiful.”
I’ve needed this. I’ve really needed this. Mostly because it’s a chance to get away from everything for a while. It’d be nice if these things could happen more, but I know why they can’t and don’t, so I sit quietly and take another sip of the rum and coke – mixed to perfection on its trip in Asher’s pack – while Dan keeps going on in Yiddish. He only goes on in his first language like this when he’s really started to get out of it.
“It’s all politics,” he starts waving his hand around. “It’s not my fault if they can’t get over the fact that I’m not going to shoot on Shabbos. So move it to Sunday. It’s not like they won’t do work that day anyway.” He’s got the bottle of whisky and takes a drink from that before wiping his mouth off and going on, “Yeah, so it’s just me, but come on, it’s not like they didn’t ask me if there was anything they could do.”
“They can’t let you shoot another day privately or something?” Rami asks.
“They could, but I don’t know, haven’t asked yet. Still too mad.” He flops over onto his stomach, stretches his wings up and arms and legs out with a long grunt, and then pulls himself in and sits up on his knees. “They’ll probably say yes to that.”
“And give you a pat on the head for showing up,” Asher cuts in, grabbing the pale ale from Evan’s blanket and finishing it off. When it’s all gone, he screws the cap to the thermos back on and stuffs it back in his pack. We used to bring the drinks over in their actual bottles, but about a year ago this Sukkot we decided it’d be easier to use water bottles and thermoses. It’s easier to pack them up when everything’s the same size and shape, and you don’t have to cushion a six-pack.
“It’s a CMP competition,” Dan goes on.
“We know,” Evan cuts in.
“I know,” he says angrily. “I’m still mad and I’m getting nice and drunk and I want to complain about it, all right?”
“So it’s a CMP competition,” I prompt.
“And I have my DPS badge so it’s not like I’d embarrass anyone and they’ll be making some allowances for me anyway but it’s on Shabbos, so fuck you very much, thanks for wanting to attend.”
“And they can’t understand why you actually need this and it’s not just a petty request.” Toby pulls his wings as he pulls off his scarf, scratches his hair, and ties it back over his head. “You’d think they’d have realized that by now.”
“Hear,” Evan calls out.
“Hear,” I echo, taking a drink. Any excuse, really.
“Hey, gimme some of that,” Toby reaches, snapping his fingers. I don’t want to, but pass the thermos over anyway. He takes a sip, twitches his wings and makes a face, and passes it back, asking Asher, “Diet Coke?”
He’s on his stomach, so he just pulls his wings closer to his head. “It’s all I had in the house.”
“It’s good,” I argue.
“It’s too sweet.”
“I don’t think so.” To prove it, I take another drink.
“Couldn’t you have gotten Ira to get a better mixer?”
“Couldn’t you have gotten it yourself? You don’t need an ID to buy pop.”
“I gave you all my pocket money to give to him.”
“So did I. Why do you think we’ve got Tanqueray today?”
“Easy,” Rami spreads his wings out, “easy.”
There’s some quiet, and then Evan asks, “Is anyone else free next Monday afternoon?”
“Maybe,” Rami says. “Why?”
“Well, we haven’t been to New York in a while.” He stresses the accent on the city’s name. “I just thought it’d be fun to head over when the weather’s still good for it.”
“And tease the yuppies,” Toby points out.
“Yeah,” he nods and rubs his wings out, not that he needed to. The thought of flying through the buildings and waving hello to everyone in the glass-walled offices makes me smile, and I sigh and push my wings closer. If you get up high enough, the city looks just like it does on maps, gridwork and everything, and it’s easy to see how the city grew towers up into the sky. It’s easy to fall when you’re that high up. We always buy hot dogs and knishes from the kosher vendors, and it’s a joke that the last one of us in line asks for how many they’ve got left. I take another long drink.
“No,” I sigh, “I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to catch up on – my parents wouldn’t let me live it down.” He’s got his wings like he’s about to protest, but I hold myself and give him a look and he looks away to Toby, who says he can come, and so does Asher. I try to tune them out and think about where we are today. It’s the town’s regular high school, for everyone who doesn’t go to a day school like us. It’s where Dan comes to shoot on regular days, sometimes. It’s got a big, flat roof, which is what we needed; that and a few blankets and we’re good for hours to hang around and talk. Even if we were closer to the edge where people could see us, we’d be pretty well hidden. Anything above the line of sight and it might as well not exist. Not that it’s their fault they don’t know to look up. It’s not like they’ve got any reason to.
The only time I can think of where anyone did more than glance up was when I got into a fight with Toby a couple of years ago. I slammed down into him, he dove up, I shot around to get him when he flew off and over, while everyone else was yelling and trying to grab one or both of us and by the time Evan and Rami got us to stop, we’d all been yelling loud enough that they could hear us down on the ground. Must’ve been a great show.
Good thing for him it was only a couple of weeks to Yom Kippur at that point, or I’d have stayed mad for months.
“Hey, hard to east,” Toby says loudly, drunkenly, and everyone turns to look – right and left don’t mean a lot when you’re up, so you have to learn other things to say – and hey, the geese are early this year. They slowly come into view, not close enough to hear them, but they’re geese all right, making their way home. Not a big group, maybe eighteen or nineteen.
Evan shakes his head. “I don’t know why they don’t like us flying like that. It really is easier if there are more of us.”
I don’t like to think why. I’m pretty sure I know, but really don’t want to think about it. So I take another drink.
Toby and Asher are arguing in English and Yiddish about migrations and nobody’s really listening to them and I get the sudden urge to jump off the roof and throw the thermos into the parking lot and watch it break, and I can see it clearly enough that I almost go through with it. When Asher gets into Yiddish he’s really drunk and we’re about done at this.
I scoot closer to Evan. “Hey,” I make sure I’m talking quietly, not just thinking I am. “Can you come over later?”
“Sure,” he whispers, not nearly as drunk as I am. “Why?”
“No reason.” I scoot back. They’re still going. Dan’s starting to add in about magnetic crystals in pigeon brains, something he read in a science magazine a couple of weeks ago at the doctor’s when he got bled. It sounds interesting, but the way he’s got everything slurred I can’t really follow what he’s saying. So I don’t.
“Hey,” I haul myself to my feet, “I had a great time but I really gotta go, I know it sucks, but you know my parents.” That’s the best excuse I’ve got, and it works pretty much every time. Of course they know my parents.
I launch off and fly over to the library to wait for a while, trying not to look and stare at everyone else. I don’t have anything to do, so I just pull out another book on woodworking and read that for a while. All they’ve got are chairs, but I manage to sit on one of the bigger armrests without looking silly. It’s okay, I guess, and this is a pretty good manual. It’s always sounded fun, putting everything together in space to work together and fit.
When I do get home, nobody but Evan’s there, and he’s waiting on the roof. I wave before I land, and we go inside together. It’s not a great fit in my room, but it’s okay. We manage. We’ve done this a lot and we know what we’re going to say.
“So what is it?”
“You know I’m getting married, right?”
“Yeah. And?”
“And I want to bitch about it to someone, that’s all.”
“So bitch.”
So I do. He’s pretty much the only person in my life right now I can talk to about stuff. My parents got me into this, Reuben wouldn’t understand, and the rest of my friends – it’s not as easy. And it sucks that I can’t come outright and tell him that, because he might not take it the right way – the last time I tried talking about that we were fourteen and the less I think about that afternoon the more comfortable I am.
Evan listens until I run out of steam and I’m repeating what I said a half-hour ago, how I might as well just suck up and take it all, and then he brushes a wing against my arm and I get quiet. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“I’ll still be here.”
“I don’t think I will be.” I sit down onto the bed next to him. “I’ve never even met her.”
“But she’s picked out, right?”
“Yeah.” I glance over at his face and then back to my hands. I know he thinks about what we did – we didn’t kiss, we didn’t open our pants, it’s not sex if those don’t happen – and I know he won’t tell anyone either.
“I haven’t met mine yet, either.”
“You didn’t get yours picked in a panic when you were thirteen.”
“So it would’ve made a difference if she’d been picked out in a panic when I was fifteen?”
“Yeah. You’d only be dreading it for three years, not five.”
“You know you’re never going to really be ready for it.”
“I want it over with at this point. My parents, my brother…” I lean against his shoulder, and he wraps one of his wings across mine, and I close my eyes and reach out to hold his hand. We’re still both buzzed enough to get away with doing this; we’d never let ourselves do this if we were sober.
It’s almost six when we stop and let go, stiff and tired and hungry, so we go into the kitchen and find something to eat before dinner. It’s a milk meal tonight so the cholent’s out, but there’s orzo pasta salad with roasted pepper that’ll be okay to finish, so we do, along with some ice cream.
“See you at school.”
“See you.” He takes off from the driveway and I go inside to wash my face and clear my eyes before my parents gets home.
Author: Hannah Orlove
Fandom: House, MD
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Companion piece to Left of West. Thanks to
phinnia and emblem for discussion. Title from the R.E.M. song “At My Most Beautiful.”I’ve needed this. I’ve really needed this. Mostly because it’s a chance to get away from everything for a while. It’d be nice if these things could happen more, but I know why they can’t and don’t, so I sit quietly and take another sip of the rum and coke – mixed to perfection on its trip in Asher’s pack – while Dan keeps going on in Yiddish. He only goes on in his first language like this when he’s really started to get out of it.
“It’s all politics,” he starts waving his hand around. “It’s not my fault if they can’t get over the fact that I’m not going to shoot on Shabbos. So move it to Sunday. It’s not like they won’t do work that day anyway.” He’s got the bottle of whisky and takes a drink from that before wiping his mouth off and going on, “Yeah, so it’s just me, but come on, it’s not like they didn’t ask me if there was anything they could do.”
“They can’t let you shoot another day privately or something?” Rami asks.
“They could, but I don’t know, haven’t asked yet. Still too mad.” He flops over onto his stomach, stretches his wings up and arms and legs out with a long grunt, and then pulls himself in and sits up on his knees. “They’ll probably say yes to that.”
“And give you a pat on the head for showing up,” Asher cuts in, grabbing the pale ale from Evan’s blanket and finishing it off. When it’s all gone, he screws the cap to the thermos back on and stuffs it back in his pack. We used to bring the drinks over in their actual bottles, but about a year ago this Sukkot we decided it’d be easier to use water bottles and thermoses. It’s easier to pack them up when everything’s the same size and shape, and you don’t have to cushion a six-pack.
“It’s a CMP competition,” Dan goes on.
“We know,” Evan cuts in.
“I know,” he says angrily. “I’m still mad and I’m getting nice and drunk and I want to complain about it, all right?”
“So it’s a CMP competition,” I prompt.
“And I have my DPS badge so it’s not like I’d embarrass anyone and they’ll be making some allowances for me anyway but it’s on Shabbos, so fuck you very much, thanks for wanting to attend.”
“And they can’t understand why you actually need this and it’s not just a petty request.” Toby pulls his wings as he pulls off his scarf, scratches his hair, and ties it back over his head. “You’d think they’d have realized that by now.”
“Hear,” Evan calls out.
“Hear,” I echo, taking a drink. Any excuse, really.
“Hey, gimme some of that,” Toby reaches, snapping his fingers. I don’t want to, but pass the thermos over anyway. He takes a sip, twitches his wings and makes a face, and passes it back, asking Asher, “Diet Coke?”
He’s on his stomach, so he just pulls his wings closer to his head. “It’s all I had in the house.”
“It’s good,” I argue.
“It’s too sweet.”
“I don’t think so.” To prove it, I take another drink.
“Couldn’t you have gotten Ira to get a better mixer?”
“Couldn’t you have gotten it yourself? You don’t need an ID to buy pop.”
“I gave you all my pocket money to give to him.”
“So did I. Why do you think we’ve got Tanqueray today?”
“Easy,” Rami spreads his wings out, “easy.”
There’s some quiet, and then Evan asks, “Is anyone else free next Monday afternoon?”
“Maybe,” Rami says. “Why?”
“Well, we haven’t been to New York in a while.” He stresses the accent on the city’s name. “I just thought it’d be fun to head over when the weather’s still good for it.”
“And tease the yuppies,” Toby points out.
“Yeah,” he nods and rubs his wings out, not that he needed to. The thought of flying through the buildings and waving hello to everyone in the glass-walled offices makes me smile, and I sigh and push my wings closer. If you get up high enough, the city looks just like it does on maps, gridwork and everything, and it’s easy to see how the city grew towers up into the sky. It’s easy to fall when you’re that high up. We always buy hot dogs and knishes from the kosher vendors, and it’s a joke that the last one of us in line asks for how many they’ve got left. I take another long drink.
“No,” I sigh, “I’ve got a lot of stuff I need to catch up on – my parents wouldn’t let me live it down.” He’s got his wings like he’s about to protest, but I hold myself and give him a look and he looks away to Toby, who says he can come, and so does Asher. I try to tune them out and think about where we are today. It’s the town’s regular high school, for everyone who doesn’t go to a day school like us. It’s where Dan comes to shoot on regular days, sometimes. It’s got a big, flat roof, which is what we needed; that and a few blankets and we’re good for hours to hang around and talk. Even if we were closer to the edge where people could see us, we’d be pretty well hidden. Anything above the line of sight and it might as well not exist. Not that it’s their fault they don’t know to look up. It’s not like they’ve got any reason to.
The only time I can think of where anyone did more than glance up was when I got into a fight with Toby a couple of years ago. I slammed down into him, he dove up, I shot around to get him when he flew off and over, while everyone else was yelling and trying to grab one or both of us and by the time Evan and Rami got us to stop, we’d all been yelling loud enough that they could hear us down on the ground. Must’ve been a great show.
Good thing for him it was only a couple of weeks to Yom Kippur at that point, or I’d have stayed mad for months.
“Hey, hard to east,” Toby says loudly, drunkenly, and everyone turns to look – right and left don’t mean a lot when you’re up, so you have to learn other things to say – and hey, the geese are early this year. They slowly come into view, not close enough to hear them, but they’re geese all right, making their way home. Not a big group, maybe eighteen or nineteen.
Evan shakes his head. “I don’t know why they don’t like us flying like that. It really is easier if there are more of us.”
I don’t like to think why. I’m pretty sure I know, but really don’t want to think about it. So I take another drink.
Toby and Asher are arguing in English and Yiddish about migrations and nobody’s really listening to them and I get the sudden urge to jump off the roof and throw the thermos into the parking lot and watch it break, and I can see it clearly enough that I almost go through with it. When Asher gets into Yiddish he’s really drunk and we’re about done at this.
I scoot closer to Evan. “Hey,” I make sure I’m talking quietly, not just thinking I am. “Can you come over later?”
“Sure,” he whispers, not nearly as drunk as I am. “Why?”
“No reason.” I scoot back. They’re still going. Dan’s starting to add in about magnetic crystals in pigeon brains, something he read in a science magazine a couple of weeks ago at the doctor’s when he got bled. It sounds interesting, but the way he’s got everything slurred I can’t really follow what he’s saying. So I don’t.
“Hey,” I haul myself to my feet, “I had a great time but I really gotta go, I know it sucks, but you know my parents.” That’s the best excuse I’ve got, and it works pretty much every time. Of course they know my parents.
I launch off and fly over to the library to wait for a while, trying not to look and stare at everyone else. I don’t have anything to do, so I just pull out another book on woodworking and read that for a while. All they’ve got are chairs, but I manage to sit on one of the bigger armrests without looking silly. It’s okay, I guess, and this is a pretty good manual. It’s always sounded fun, putting everything together in space to work together and fit.
When I do get home, nobody but Evan’s there, and he’s waiting on the roof. I wave before I land, and we go inside together. It’s not a great fit in my room, but it’s okay. We manage. We’ve done this a lot and we know what we’re going to say.
“So what is it?”
“You know I’m getting married, right?”
“Yeah. And?”
“And I want to bitch about it to someone, that’s all.”
“So bitch.”
So I do. He’s pretty much the only person in my life right now I can talk to about stuff. My parents got me into this, Reuben wouldn’t understand, and the rest of my friends – it’s not as easy. And it sucks that I can’t come outright and tell him that, because he might not take it the right way – the last time I tried talking about that we were fourteen and the less I think about that afternoon the more comfortable I am.
Evan listens until I run out of steam and I’m repeating what I said a half-hour ago, how I might as well just suck up and take it all, and then he brushes a wing against my arm and I get quiet. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
“I’ll still be here.”
“I don’t think I will be.” I sit down onto the bed next to him. “I’ve never even met her.”
“But she’s picked out, right?”
“Yeah.” I glance over at his face and then back to my hands. I know he thinks about what we did – we didn’t kiss, we didn’t open our pants, it’s not sex if those don’t happen – and I know he won’t tell anyone either.
“I haven’t met mine yet, either.”
“You didn’t get yours picked in a panic when you were thirteen.”
“So it would’ve made a difference if she’d been picked out in a panic when I was fifteen?”
“Yeah. You’d only be dreading it for three years, not five.”
“You know you’re never going to really be ready for it.”
“I want it over with at this point. My parents, my brother…” I lean against his shoulder, and he wraps one of his wings across mine, and I close my eyes and reach out to hold his hand. We’re still both buzzed enough to get away with doing this; we’d never let ourselves do this if we were sober.
It’s almost six when we stop and let go, stiff and tired and hungry, so we go into the kitchen and find something to eat before dinner. It’s a milk meal tonight so the cholent’s out, but there’s orzo pasta salad with roasted pepper that’ll be okay to finish, so we do, along with some ice cream.
“See you at school.”
“See you.” He takes off from the driveway and I go inside to wash my face and clear my eyes before my parents gets home.
