About This
By Cappuccino Girl
Pairing:Mallory/Cathy
Disclaimer: Characters are
the property of Aaron Sorkin and no doubt many others.
Notes: Written in response to the Wing Swing Challenge. I've
dreaded writing fics before, but I think this one takes the prize for being
the one I've put off the most. What a pairing, but looking back, it was rather
fun.
Summary: You could have made up some fancy story about this
allusive stranger you had met.
Somewhere between college and failed relationships and the
time when working overtime stopped being seen as abnormal, you noticed the
woman who marched into your boss' office. She tossed her little head to the
side when she spoke. Her tone was clear, reminded you of Miss Collins from
third grade. So did her dancing eyes and presence. You'd watched her through
the glass window of Sam's office, and she'd caused you to write down 6 instead of 9 when the person on the other
end of the telephone dictated a number.
You spoke with her a few times, properly spoke, not just
hello, how are you. Proper conversations, and you're sure you can remember
every word because she sounded like hope, and you're convinced
she inspires young people to go into teaching. She argued too, argued with
Sam, and through the thin walls that separated your desk from his, you could
hear how her tone altered before she stormed out. The door had slammed, and
through her state of rage, her eyes had focused on yours for a moment.
When you left the office two hours later, you saw a familiar
figure in the car parked next to yours. She never moved as she rolled down
the window in response to your cautious knocking.
"You okay?" you remember asking.
She just nodded, grabbed a half empty bottle of diet coke from
among the mess of folders on the passenger seat. After she'd taken a swig
to clear the sound of tears from her voice, she'd asked you, "Why don't
I ever learn?"
You think you tried not to laugh at the irony. You also knew
it was over.
You didn't see her for a few months, and pictures of your boss
and a hooker made headlines across the Atlantic, so when you bumped into her
one morning while going for a run, you felt your tongue lodge in your throat.
"Hey Cathy," she said, slightly out of breath herself.
"Hey. How've you been?"
"Busy."
You shifted a little and stared at your sneakers because it
all felt rather awkward, like dancing around the inevitable.
"You seeing anyone?" she'd asked, and you'd looked
up, quite startled.
"No," and you shook your head a little too.
"Me neither," she said, and five minutes later she
asked you out for a drink.
At nine that evening, you walked out the door in your best
pair of jeans and strappy top, and no one asked where you were going. Not
even Ginger. In a way, you wish she had, because then you could have made
up a fancy story about some allusive stranger you had met. In a rather less
than glamorous reality, Mallory sat at the bar drinking a Martini. She turned
her head when you slipped onto the stool beside her.
She pointed to her glass. "You want one?"
"Sure."
And when she was on her fifth and you on your fourth, and the
walls appeared less clear than they were when you first sat down, your hand
touched her arm.
She looked up at you, and asked, "It was about this, wasn't
it?"
You found meaning in words that meant nothing. You decided
they were an over simplification of feelings that had ricocheted around her
brain for too long. "Yes."
Her delicate hand moved to your leg before she said, "I
should probably get back. Not that I'm really in a state to grade homework,
but I really should."
You made up an excuse of your own while you left ten dollars
on the bar. She took your hand as you walked out of the room togther, and
you kissed her cheek at the steps leading to
her appartment.
Now she stirs among the white ocean of sheets, and you watch
her auburn hair peak out from beneath it.
You wonder how you both ended up here.
~ the end ~
all feedback to cappuccinogirlie@hotmail.com
visit the author's website at www.cappuccinogirl.com