Daisy Fay Buchanan (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inawhitepalace) wrote2013-07-10 03:14 pm
inawhitepalace) wrote2013-07-10 03:14 pm
Entry tags:
later's better than never
This wasn't the first time they had done this. Far from it, in fact — if anything, it was a habit, packing everything up and leaving wherever they'd been residing behind them, starting over somewhere new. That was what Daisy kept telling herself, anyway, an insistent bid to draw attention away from the weight of everything. Maybe the circumstances of their moving on had never been quite so dire before, however unlikely to admit it they were, but as soon as they were out of New York, it wouldn't make a bit of difference. None of it would follow them; there was no one here with whom it would remain. If anything, she felt sure that she ought to have been grateful. The ending given to all of this ensured that she would remain free of any blame, of any ties to the part of her life that she had chosen to leave behind her. There was nothing to want, this way. Grieving wouldn't have done any good, after all, when she had already made her decision, and anyway, it would have been more than a little unbecoming.
What was more, it wouldn't have been entirely fair. Even she was capable of acknowledging as much, and of acting on it, if this sort of willfully disregarding the events of the summer could be acting at all. Given the effort it took, more than she liked but far less than it should have, she at least felt as if it ought to have been, and anyway, that was the point — that she was trying, that they both were. The revelations come to light, everything put out on the table in that hotel room, had left her and Tom on an even playing field for the first time in a long time, and perhaps, with that being the case, they wouldn't just wind up in the same place they had so many times before. It was worth it to find out, at least. Besides, even if she'd had any doubts about the decision she had made, they would have been irrelevant now, the alternative no longer a possibility. For that, too, she was fortunate, in a way. Staying with Tom only because she had no other choice left, crawling back after declaring her love for someone else, would have carried substantially less weight than the two of them coming to this conclusion together, would have diminished their chances of making this work considerably, and she wasn't about to accept the notion that they might not have been able to. When they had up until now, when they'd survived that awful confrontation, they simply had to.
With Tom's hand at her waist as they headed for the door, she pointedly thought about that, about the fresh start they would be getting, all of this unpleasantness left in the past where it belonged, and not anything that had happened to bring him here. But then, here quickly took on a new meaning, more so than she could quite wrap her head around. One moment, she was making her way to the door, where the car was waiting in front of the house; the next, the world was moving beneath her feet, the suddenness of it pitching her forward, only a well-timed grasp to a pole near her keeping her upright. A faint cry catching in her throat, she looked beside her, meaning to tell Tom off for nearly letting her fall, only to find that he wasn't there. He didn't seem to be anywhere, which was more surprising than it ought to have been, given that there had certainly been no train car by their house, and yet she was undoubtedly on one.
Dazed, there was nothing for Daisy to do but look around, wide-eyed, as the train pulled into a station, its doors sliding open. Though she considered that maybe she should stay on board, as if doing so could somehow negate whatever had just taken place, as if on a whim, she stepped out onto the platform, breath catching in her throat. None of this was familiar, though only a cursory glance around would have been more than enough to prove that, and though a part of her thought that maybe she ought to find someone and ask what station this was, she couldn't bring herself to. Doing so would have required addressing the fact that this had happened at all, and it was far too surreal for that, a part of her still expecting to be back in New York in the blink of an eye. She wasn't, though, and the only thing she could do for it was head slowly in the direction that she'd seen a scattered few other people take, barely looking where she was going for her attempts to take everything in.
What was more, it wouldn't have been entirely fair. Even she was capable of acknowledging as much, and of acting on it, if this sort of willfully disregarding the events of the summer could be acting at all. Given the effort it took, more than she liked but far less than it should have, she at least felt as if it ought to have been, and anyway, that was the point — that she was trying, that they both were. The revelations come to light, everything put out on the table in that hotel room, had left her and Tom on an even playing field for the first time in a long time, and perhaps, with that being the case, they wouldn't just wind up in the same place they had so many times before. It was worth it to find out, at least. Besides, even if she'd had any doubts about the decision she had made, they would have been irrelevant now, the alternative no longer a possibility. For that, too, she was fortunate, in a way. Staying with Tom only because she had no other choice left, crawling back after declaring her love for someone else, would have carried substantially less weight than the two of them coming to this conclusion together, would have diminished their chances of making this work considerably, and she wasn't about to accept the notion that they might not have been able to. When they had up until now, when they'd survived that awful confrontation, they simply had to.
With Tom's hand at her waist as they headed for the door, she pointedly thought about that, about the fresh start they would be getting, all of this unpleasantness left in the past where it belonged, and not anything that had happened to bring him here. But then, here quickly took on a new meaning, more so than she could quite wrap her head around. One moment, she was making her way to the door, where the car was waiting in front of the house; the next, the world was moving beneath her feet, the suddenness of it pitching her forward, only a well-timed grasp to a pole near her keeping her upright. A faint cry catching in her throat, she looked beside her, meaning to tell Tom off for nearly letting her fall, only to find that he wasn't there. He didn't seem to be anywhere, which was more surprising than it ought to have been, given that there had certainly been no train car by their house, and yet she was undoubtedly on one.
Dazed, there was nothing for Daisy to do but look around, wide-eyed, as the train pulled into a station, its doors sliding open. Though she considered that maybe she should stay on board, as if doing so could somehow negate whatever had just taken place, as if on a whim, she stepped out onto the platform, breath catching in her throat. None of this was familiar, though only a cursory glance around would have been more than enough to prove that, and though a part of her thought that maybe she ought to find someone and ask what station this was, she couldn't bring herself to. Doing so would have required addressing the fact that this had happened at all, and it was far too surreal for that, a part of her still expecting to be back in New York in the blink of an eye. She wasn't, though, and the only thing she could do for it was head slowly in the direction that she'd seen a scattered few other people take, barely looking where she was going for her attempts to take everything in.