I don't know if it's such a good idea for me to write FDK right now, but I'm antsy and unable to concentrate on anything else for the moment, and a mountain of work - the start of the new term tomorrow - is towering up in front of me. So I hope you don't mind if I comment now, but unfortunately it may not be very long!
Let me start with two quotes that have to be put side by side - or, OK, one below the other one - so that we can fully enjoy them:
The perk of this particular assignment has been trading barbs with you.”
Mayson almost chortled, grateful for his attempt to steer the conversation back to banter. “Perk, huh? Singular?”
“C’mon, give a guy a little credit. I don’t sleep in my Hawaiian shirts.”
“Shirts? Plural?” Mayson winced. “Oh, boy.”
Perk - singular, yes, because Dan seems to imply that there was only one good thing about being Mayson's bodyguard. And shirts, plural, because he also seems to imply that his closet at home is just bursting with a magnificent collection of awful Hawaiian shirts.
However, the "perk" for Dan Scardino of being Mayson's bodyguard was not primarily trading barbs with Mayson. It was, rather, just being with her at all. Enjoying her company. Feeling witty in her company, enjoying her retorts, feeling ever so slightly "high" on their banter, but also feeling... tender, compassionate, protective, impressed by her beauty and courage, feeling himself come alive in her company, being full of longing and achingly in need of her. And both of them feel, and fear, that a relationship between them may be impossible, and both of them are heavy with sadness because of that. I love how you show us their impossible longing (but first a bit of their irresistible banter):
“You walk it off,” Mayson retorted. “It hurts when I breathe. And I’m wearing a cast. I’m allowed to milk this injured shtick for at least another week.”
I'm allowed to milk this injured shtick for at least another week... so funny!
Ah, but then we have this:
“I dunno about that ... ” Scardino pretended to contemplate her rationale.
“You’re done.” Mayson rolled her eyes. “I want a new babysitter. One with actual personality traits, not just deluded and insensitive.”
The laughter in his eyes dimmed and he studied Mayson seriously. “I’m glad I’m here,” he said quietly.
You’re not allowed to be nice to me, remember? I can do sarcastic. I can do banter. But nice? No. It brings out the butterflies. And butterflies are the last thing I need. Or want. Especially from a complete stranger.
Oh, so heartbreakingly beautiful. Dan Scardino is laying his heart out before Mayson, so quietly, so sincerely. And she shies away from listening to the truth he's offering her, she doesn't dare to embrace it, because she needs her cynicism and sarcasm as an insensitive shield to protect her terribly damaged body and soul. She's like one of those - what do you call them, molluscs? Those little animals which have a hard outer shell and a totally mushy-soft interior. Mayson is like that right now - her cynicism is the the shield, no, the
container that keeps the million bleeding little pieces of herself in place. To be able to hear, accept and feel what Dan is saying to her, Mayson needs to lower her hard outer shell and lay her broken, bleeding body and heart bare before his eyes. She can't do it.
She found her voice at last, silencing the ones in her head. “I bet you say that to all the damsels in distress.”
“Just the pretty ones.” His smile was tinged with something she couldn’t quite identify.
Sadness?
Mayson drew in a shaky breath, her ribs punishing her for the air she pulled in. “I’m glad you’re here, too. You’re almost tolerable, hideous wardrobe choices aside.”
This is incredibly beautiful. Mayson hears and responds to Dan's sadness. Wen she couldn't respond to his sincerity, she can respond to his sadness. He may not be as broken as she is, but he was totally sincere when he said he was glad to be with her, and he is going to be genuinely, heartbreakingly sad if she can't find it in herself to find sympathy and liking for him in return. And now, when the need of his sadness reaches out to her, she can find it in herself to respond. Of course, not without turning it into a bantering game about his shirts.
“It’s great camouflage,” Scardino contended. “You probably don’t realize this, but no one really takes a guy in blinding floral outerwear very seriously.”
Laughter bubbled up in Mayson’s throat. “Tell me more, o wise fashion sage.”
She can banter again - she is safe for now. And they are both having fun.
“Oh, come on! No fair!” Mayson objected. “Besides, this is textbook second-grade playground psychology — I only tease because I care.”
“Aww,” Scardino beamed, “you like me — you really like me.”
But he keeps pushing - don't you like me, too?
“Out with it, aloha boy.”
Aloha boy - so funny.
“Really, that’s the logic behind it. No one takes me seriously in those shirts; I look like less of a threat. Makes it easier to get past people’s defenses. They tend to trust me more, somehow.”
“You can be scarily astute,” Mayson surmised. “It’s downright disconcerting.”
“Are you saying I make you nervous?”
Yes. “No. You make me nauseous.”
“Even better. That means I make you really nervous.”
“You are incorrigible.”
“And you like it.”
So well written. Especially that '
Yes. "No. You make me nauseous."'
Wordlessly, Scardino settled back into the opposite corner of the plush, oversized sofa and draped one arm along its back.
“C’mere,” he whispered, so softly that for a moment, Mayson thought she’d imagined it.
“Dan — I — that’s above and beyond your call of duty,” she stammered, heat flooding her cheeks.
“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s just a nap on the couch — a fully-clothed nap, I might add.” His voice grew huskier. “It’s perfectly innocent, Mayson.”
“But — I-I can’t — ”
“I just want you to feel safe. And that’s not going to happen if you try to sleep down the hall tonight.”
This is
wonderful. Mayson's mollusc shell is cracking open. But Dan is there to offer her his warm, safe embrace instead.
'I just want you to feel safe.'
She couldn’t have stopped the tear that rolled down her cheek if both their lives had depended on it.
“Careful, or I’ll think you like the idea,” he quipped, wiping the moisture away with the pad of his thumb. “Just trust me?”
Mayson's mollusc shell has cracked open sufficiently to allow a tear to escape.
Overcome, Mayson couldn’t vocalize a response. She scooted closer and gingerly tucked her legs beneath her once more, then slowly leaned toward Scardino, easing her protesting ribs against his side and making sure her cast didn’t scrape him.
Finally, she leaned her head on his shoulder.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and rested his chin on top of her blond curls. “See? Was that so hard?”
No. Terrifying, maybe. But not difficult. Which is what really scares me.
This is utterly beautiful. Accepting Dan's comfort, his help to hold herself together, was not difficult. But it
was terrifying. And the fact that it was not difficult scares her even more. Because that means that she may allow herself to depend on Dan again, doesn't it? Will she find the courage to allow herself to trust him?
This was totally fascinating, Crystal.
Ann
And I know this was a bit of a short chapter, heavy on dialogue and woefully light on action (and I was a little antsy about posting it as-is, truth be told) but you guys are awesome for bearing with me through this part. Hugs and Starbucks all around!
Seriously, I'm so glad you enjoyed this part!
