What you can hold [Jouko]
Apr. 22nd, 2017 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
roesslyngTitle: What you can hold
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Jouko & his ex-wife, at the end of it
Rating: 0+
Length: 400 words
Summary: She never was the kind to stay.
Other: Prompt was "Jouko - Roots like these keep their firmness". The original post has some errors that were corrected for this version. [Original post]
What you can hold
I'm leaving, she said.
Her voice rang like a pot lid dropped on the floor. The clanging went on and on, spinning, until finally it stopped on its own.
Fine, he said, and stood aside.
The door opened and shut. He listened, and heard her car. Open. Shut. And then the sound as she drove away. For the last time, this time. Probably.
He plunged his hands into the sink. Let them soak in the hot water. Scrubbed at the supper dishes. Squinted from the brightness of the summer's sun shining in the kitchen window.
He felt nothing at all.
She'd always had a way of coming and going.
He'd met her in the city. She'd breezed into his life, knocked him down. Then, laughing, offered her hand to help him up.
That was how she was. A breeze. Or a storm when she was angry enough. She was wind. You couldn't hold onto that. It had taken him a while to learn that.
She left behind misty silence. It was a kind she'd left before, hanging over the house for days. This time he knew it would be longer.
But it would fade, after a while. It always did.
His friends were understanding. Offered him pats on the back. Kind words.
Don't worry. Maybe she just needs some time to, um... to find herself –
If that was the case, she'd spent more time out looking for herself than at home. He told them this, and left it at that.
The kids took it well. Accepted it. Shrugged it off as if it was nothing.
Oh. Okay.
They paused. Waiting, like they expected something else, something more important.
Can we go play with Hannu now?
They were more used to the absence than he was. The emptiness didn't touch them.
In the bakery. In the home. In the garden.
He latched onto everything he could. Dug himself in. Threw himself at life with as much energy as he could manage.
Their home had never been so spotless, the flowers lining the beds in front never so bright.
The children protested when he kissed their foreheads. When he held their hands too much. When he tucked them into bed.
Ugh, dad germs! Gross!
They were getting to be that age.
But they didn't push him away. And they didn't seem to mind.
She wouldn't come back.
He didn't need her to.
Fandom: A Redtail's Dream
Characters/Pairing: Jouko & his ex-wife, at the end of it
Rating: 0+
Length: 400 words
Summary: She never was the kind to stay.
Other: Prompt was "Jouko - Roots like these keep their firmness". The original post has some errors that were corrected for this version. [Original post]
What you can hold
I'm leaving, she said.
Her voice rang like a pot lid dropped on the floor. The clanging went on and on, spinning, until finally it stopped on its own.
Fine, he said, and stood aside.
The door opened and shut. He listened, and heard her car. Open. Shut. And then the sound as she drove away. For the last time, this time. Probably.
He plunged his hands into the sink. Let them soak in the hot water. Scrubbed at the supper dishes. Squinted from the brightness of the summer's sun shining in the kitchen window.
He felt nothing at all.
She'd always had a way of coming and going.
He'd met her in the city. She'd breezed into his life, knocked him down. Then, laughing, offered her hand to help him up.
That was how she was. A breeze. Or a storm when she was angry enough. She was wind. You couldn't hold onto that. It had taken him a while to learn that.
She left behind misty silence. It was a kind she'd left before, hanging over the house for days. This time he knew it would be longer.
But it would fade, after a while. It always did.
His friends were understanding. Offered him pats on the back. Kind words.
Don't worry. Maybe she just needs some time to, um... to find herself –
If that was the case, she'd spent more time out looking for herself than at home. He told them this, and left it at that.
The kids took it well. Accepted it. Shrugged it off as if it was nothing.
Oh. Okay.
They paused. Waiting, like they expected something else, something more important.
Can we go play with Hannu now?
They were more used to the absence than he was. The emptiness didn't touch them.
In the bakery. In the home. In the garden.
He latched onto everything he could. Dug himself in. Threw himself at life with as much energy as he could manage.
Their home had never been so spotless, the flowers lining the beds in front never so bright.
The children protested when he kissed their foreheads. When he held their hands too much. When he tucked them into bed.
Ugh, dad germs! Gross!
They were getting to be that age.
But they didn't push him away. And they didn't seem to mind.
She wouldn't come back.
He didn't need her to.
