𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛 {Bruce Banner}

Father's Daughter

_ _ _

The changing and falling of tree leaves means that winter is coming, and Tesla—the kind of girl to horde all of her sweaters, but never have a single nice tank top—enjoys the idea of colder weather and a snowy campus. Betty Ross is not one that enjoys the cold.

"It's not even Thanksgiving yet," she huffs out, her breath floating in front of the two girls as they march across the plowed concrete. It's early in the morning, so there aren't many students wandering the courtyards. It's also fifteen degrees outside.

Tesla shrugs to herself, hands tucked in her olive green mittens. "I think it's pretty."

Betty follows Tesla's gaze around campus, the powdery snow layering the ground smoothly. Strikingly orange leaves still cling to the spindling trees, contrasting vibrant colors against the crisp air. Betty shivers at the sharp environment. "I guess, but before Thanksgiving?"

"Only a couple days away," adds Tesla, tucking her hair away even if it is pinned down by a crimson Harvard beanie. Her hair will always be stubborn.

"Are you visiting your mother for the week?" Betty stares at Tesla with her wide and precise eyes. Tesla nods, lips pressed together tightly. "You know, it's not a bad thing having your mother nearby. It's good to be close to your parents."

"I visit her more than I visit Kimberly." Tesla stares at a stray squirrel hurrying across the lawn. He's gathering all he can before it's too cold to step outside. "Just feels like I'm still a kid."

Betty flips her long hair across her shoulder. "No one ever feels like an adult until they start having to pay bills."

Tesla rolls her eyes. "I do have to pay bills. I'm not ungrateful for my mother, but I don't want to be her best friend. I want to be her daughter."

Betty stares at Tesla solemnly. "That's where we're different. My mother and I...we were best friends." Betty continues, not letting Tesla cut in, "We're not that different in the sense of single parents, you know? My dad and I—sometimes I don't even want to be his daughter." Betty stares straight ahead now, not bothering to look at her friend. The memories she has of her mother are good ones, and she will always appreciate what her father has had to do on his own since the passing of Karen Ross; however, Betty does wonder what her life would be like had her father passed away in her teen years, rather than her mother.

"Well, we can't pick our parents," comments Tesla. "And anyway, if we could, we wouldn't be who we are—genetically speaking, of course. Our parents do have influences over our behaviors and the way we understand our world around us, but that's always up for debate. Nature versus nurture."

Betty giggles a little, nudging Tesla, who slips on the thin layer of snow. "Leave it to Tesla Edison to change the subject of single parents to psychology."

"Come on, Betty." Tesla brushes snow off her pants, shaking her head. An idea pops into her head. "If Thanksgiving really doesn't work out for us this year, we'll have a Thanksgiving together next year. The four of us, that way our parents have someone else to talk to too."

Betty smiles widely. "I like that idea."

"About time you poked your head out of that room, Tesla!" her mother calls out, salt and pepper hair tied away from her face so she can focus on the meal being prepared before her. She's making omelets with Polish sausage for breakfast, something that her family has done for ages. Elsa listens to her daughter move across the hall to the kitchen.

Tesla sinks into the small kitchen table. For as long as she can remember there has always been a small table in their kitchen. No large dining tables filled with chairs and plates and big decorative pieces. It's just a circular kitchen table with three chairs.