The Start Of Something

7: locked doors

♫ Cold Moon – MiWi La Lupa ♫

Georgia kept her hands at her side, though her fingers itched to curl into the knit fabric of her dress. It was stupid to wear a dress to begin with, but she had already tried on four different outfits, and the dress offered a distinct advantage in being one article of clothing that didn't need to be matched or tucked just right. And besides, if she went upstairs to change again Marion would show up in that exact moment. She wouldn't need to ask why she was running late; she would know that it was because Georgia was nervous. Marion seemed to read her too easily, and Georgia wouldn't give her another reason to be annoyed with her. So she smoothed her fingers over her dress and shifted her feet across the sidewalk as the low rumble of Marion's truck rounded the corner and came to a pause beside her.

As she climbed into the cab of the truck, Georgia noted that it was 4 o'clock sharp, not a second later than Marion had promised to pick her up. She already found herself wishing that she had not agreed to this, that she had found some better excuse. She had tried—but Marion was insistent, and she'd had a determination to her that was void of both annoyance and meanness. Georgia was simply taken off guard, and so she relented and told her that she would meet her as soon as she finished her shift.

"I've never seen you in a dress," Marion commented, her eyes scanning the road ahead as she drove through town. "Thought you only owned denim."

"Yeah it's...never mind."

"No, it's nice. You look nice."

"Thanks," Georgia managed. This was a version of Marion she hadn't met before. She wasn't certain that it was a version that actually existed, but then Marion hadn't seemed to be herself all day. She wanted to ask her about what happened in the cafe and why Marion left in such a hurry, but those questions would be prying into a vulnerability she was certain the other woman didn't want to share. "Where are we going?"

"Smelt fry."

"Come again?"

Marion smirked a little and gave her a sideways glance. "Smelt. They're fish. You're living in rural Minnesota now, so I want to give you the true Suffolk experience."

"And that involves fried fish?"

"Usually, yes."

"Okay. Let's go get some fish."

"Yeah?" Marion's grin broadened. "You're being weirdly chill."

"Maybe I want the Suffolk experience."

"Since when?"

Georgia shrugged and looked out the window, to the darkened storefronts of businesses closed for the day. After 4 p.m., the speed of the world seemed to shift and settle to a trickle. "I like it here." She didn't look at Marion when she said it. She didn't want to know whether she would be pleased or disgusted.

"We're here," was all Marion offered in response, pulling up to the curb behind a row of cars extending out from the fire department. The smell of frying fish wafted through the cab even through the closed doors, mixing with the scent of Marion's perfume and the cigarette smoke that clung to her t-shirt. These were unfamiliar things, a particular fragrance that stuck with Georgia as she followed Marion to the open garage doors of a little brick building. Suffolk's lone engine was pulled out onto the street to make way for the tables, chairs, and row of friers. Even when Suffolk seemed to sleep after business hours, there were still pockets of life like this where people gathered, regulars from the cafe, shop owners from down the street, the tall old woman who walked her dog every morning beneath Georgia's window. It was strangely surreal to step into line for food behind a row of people she already recognized, who turned to say hello whether they knew her name or not. But they all knew Marion's name, and Marion offered a warmth back to them that Georgia simply hadn't seen. So maybe she was Maggie's niece after all.