This has made me so happy. It's perfect. It really is. I'm a little weepy right now so I hope my comment isn't too incoherent.
The image of the unused back bedroom is perfect, standing in for her unused womb in this verse as well. The stockpot she can't fit into her cupboards because it's too large. The dusty little picnic basket that she and Frank have only used once. Her imagining of what it could be, her feeling that there's an empty space where something used to be. All the little flashes she gets, this one, especially.
A weird flash passes through her mind of what that might be like: Labs and tests and terror, the idea that it’s all going way too fast. “Nope.”
I adore this Lincoln, and the way she knows she can talk to him about everything. They are my favorite doomed ship.
He has been looking at her for a while now, but there’s something between them that makes her head turn just at the moment when this look comes into his eyes – this look that reminds her of the time he got drunk and kissed her before he knew about Frank, the one she tries very hard to defend against but occasionally can’t. This is one of those times where it pierces her to the core. Or maybe it’s just that he says, very softly, “I’d help you.”
This ending is great, too. This Olivia isn't one to dwell. She moves on.
And for a moment, she sees Lincoln standing beside it, a grin on his face, reaching down for a baby – a baby boy so real to her that suddenly she feels as if she knows the weight of him in her arms, the soft scent of his head, the little sounds he makes as he settles down to sleep –
Quickly she turns off the light and shuts the door.
Sob!
Thank you so much for writing this wonderful story for me.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: "A Very Empty Room"
Date: 2011-12-24 03:48 pm (UTC)The image of the unused back bedroom is perfect, standing in for her unused womb in this verse as well. The stockpot she can't fit into her cupboards because it's too large. The dusty little picnic basket that she and Frank have only used once. Her imagining of what it could be, her feeling that there's an empty space where something used to be. All the little flashes she gets, this one, especially.
A weird flash passes through her mind of what that might be like: Labs and tests and terror, the idea that it’s all going way too fast. “Nope.”
I adore this Lincoln, and the way she knows she can talk to him about everything. They are my favorite doomed ship.
He has been looking at her for a while now, but there’s something between them that makes her head turn just at the moment when this look comes into his eyes – this look that reminds her of the time he got drunk and kissed her before he knew about Frank, the one she tries very hard to defend against but occasionally can’t. This is one of those times where it pierces her to the core. Or maybe it’s just that he says, very softly, “I’d help you.”
This ending is great, too. This Olivia isn't one to dwell. She moves on.
And for a moment, she sees Lincoln standing beside it, a grin on his face, reaching down for a baby – a baby boy so real to her that suddenly she feels as if she knows the weight of him in her arms, the soft scent of his head, the little sounds he makes as he settles down to sleep –
Quickly she turns off the light and shuts the door.
Sob!
Thank you so much for writing this wonderful story for me.