perfectible | (no subject)

It is. You make an amazing apple pie. [He shrugs, earnestly appreciative of the 'perfect' things she does but also worried over them.] But I think it bothers me because I know that it's your mother's favorite recipe, and I want you to fight all the things that that were her choices, or things you chose because you knew she'd approve.

Why? [ She looks at him, confused but not accusatory. He's never met her mother. He doesn't know her or the relationship between Betty and Alice Cooper.]

[Adam looks deeply confused in return. Maybe he's misunderstood something much worse than he thought.] Because it's tied in with all that expectation of being perfect. So that you feel you have to hide the side of yourself that doesn't fit that persona, and that gives you anxiety whenever you feel you aren't succeeding. Is that not it?

It might be my mom's favorite recipe but I like it too. It's what I grew up on but I don't need it to be perfect. [ They just usually turn out that way.] I'm not sure that pie or cooking is a good example of how my mom demanded perfection of me.

[Adam frowns and massages idly at her fingers, considering this.] It may just be that it's the most evident to me. When we eat or cook together, it seems like... whenever you choose a recipe, it's something inoffensive and all-American and perfect. It's not just an apple pie, it's the awareness that you didn't make a berry hodgepodge pie. Why? Because this was what you were taught and what was expected of you. And that makes my skin crawl.

Can you give me an example of what you mean, instead?

[ She looks at him, frowning when he says something she does makes his skin crawl.] That isn't fair. [ To say that or feel that way.] I just make the things I learned to make, that I know tastes good. I wanted to show off. [ She pulls her hand gently from his.] I'm sorry if that makes your skin crawl.

[Adam scoots back, putting an inch of space between them and moving his legs off hers. He doesn't want her to feel trapped if she wants to pull away from him.] That's not what I meant.

Don't you want to try new things and different ways of doing things? And I don't just mean in terms of cooking.

[ She doesn't feel trapped but she does feel a little offended.] Of course I do. I'm a journalist or I try to be. I'm always seeking out new things and new truths.

Okay. [Adam doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t get it, and he doesn’t know how to figure it out without upsetting her worse.] Maybe you could give some examples to help me understand. [Of all these new things she’s trying and doing.]

Dating two boys at once. [ She looks at him pointedly.] Modeling. My mom wouldn't be okay with that. [ She thinks further.] Try to become an actual journalist instead of just doing the school newspaper where it's safe.

[Adam wants to point out that she's not dating two boys at once, because Jughead's not here and he doesn't know about her dating Adam, but he at least knows better than to be pedantic on that topic right at this exact moment.]

I'm proud of you for those things. [Adam tentatively rests his hand alongside hers, pinkies touching.] The modeling and the journalism. And the foray into light polyamory.

For me, it's a constant, everyday thing. I've excised everything from my life that reminds me of that place. So much as hearing a song that my father liked makes me feel disoriented and... scared. I can't eat anything that my parents would have fed me. I went to a party where everything was southern and country because the others were going and it would have been impolite to decline, and I spent the entire thing wandering around like a trauma victim.

[He hooks his pinky over hers.] So it's possible that I'm projecting.

[ She doesn't pull away from his touch even if she totally caught that slight jab about the polyamory thing. She isn't a fan of what he's projecting onto her right now.]

My parents... My childhood wasn't anywhere close to yours, Adam. I don't blame you for doing those things, for feeling the way you do but I don't want to forget my life back home, I'm lucky enough to have good memories and yeah, maybe it wasn't perfect and my mom has her issues but... [ Her hand moves to cover his.]

I have no idea what it was like for you, I've only seen glimpses but nothing like that ever happened to me. [ It's not bragging or trying to show she's better off than him, not at all. It's her trying to reassure him that her reaction to her own childhood would not be anything close to his, it didn't need to be.

He was abused, abhorrently abused.] So you don't need to worry about me or push me to be different than I am. I like who I am for the most part.

I'll do better. [He understands better, now, about what happened and why, and the reasons he got the wrong impression of the situation.]

I'm sorry to have upset your Thanksgiving. I know it was important to you.

[ Gently, she tugs at his hand so she can bring it to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the top of it.] It's okay, Adam. And I'm sorry if I upset you.

You didn't upset me. I upset me. You just happened to be in the blast radius.

Edited 2017-12-10 21:54 (UTC)

I'll try to keep that in mind. [ And she hopes it won't happen again.]

[It will.

Adam shifts a little closer, resting his head on her shoulder and playing idly with her hands.]