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Texas, 1982
Fred curled up her feet underneath her, chin tucked on knees as she played with various bits of grass and dirt that'd gotten caught up in the cuffs of her jeans. She wasn't cleaning herself exactly, more poking around to see what was there. Finding out what'd decided to come along for the ride.
"...but what if you don't want it to come up? What if you want the sun to stay exactly where it is?"
The second step was peeling, and it was about to become more interesting than her current project, she decided.
"Well I don't know about that Fred." That really didn't surprise her so much. Daddy knew a lot of things. But she also asked a lot of questions. "Besides, I'm pretty darn sure there's some rules about that sort of thing."
Well, that was definitely more interesting than hitchhikers and paint.
"What sort of rules?"
He shrugged, and then he tried.
"About when it comes up. When it goes down." There was some motioning with his hand, sweet tea keeping it company. Fred watched closely, eyes wide. "What it does is the middle."
"The middle?"
There was a shrug. Fred thought he was pretty good at those, especially when Mama got talking sometimes.
"In between, what it does during the day. When we can see it." Roger looked at his daughter closely. "Why wouldn't you want it to come up, anyway?"
It was Fred's turn to copy her father, her shrug a smallish sort of echo of his own, with the addition of her knees bumping into her chin. It still didn't make her move.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe if it's been a really good night, I guess. Like Christmas, or a birthday, or something you don't want to be over. When the sun comes up the next day, that means it's really over, doesn't it?"
"Maybe," her father considered, passing over the tea and putting the glass in one of her hands. "But the next day could be just as good, and besides. There's just rules."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Los Angeles, March 2003
Fred watched as the black uncurled itself, flooding light and color, and all sorts of other things she didn't even have words for down into the city. It wasn't warm yet, not the way it should be, but there was plenty of heat coming from Lorne's smile. The rest would come soon enough.
"...there's just rules."
And maybe it didn't mean that the day before was really over, or even the weeks full of them before that. She could face that, Fred decided, because there wasn't back porches, and grasshoppers either. They'd gotten this far. There were some things you just couldn't stop, and Fred included her friends on that list.
There were just rules.
Fred curled up her feet underneath her, chin tucked on knees as she played with various bits of grass and dirt that'd gotten caught up in the cuffs of her jeans. She wasn't cleaning herself exactly, more poking around to see what was there. Finding out what'd decided to come along for the ride.
"...but what if you don't want it to come up? What if you want the sun to stay exactly where it is?"
The second step was peeling, and it was about to become more interesting than her current project, she decided.
"Well I don't know about that Fred." That really didn't surprise her so much. Daddy knew a lot of things. But she also asked a lot of questions. "Besides, I'm pretty darn sure there's some rules about that sort of thing."
Well, that was definitely more interesting than hitchhikers and paint.
"What sort of rules?"
He shrugged, and then he tried.
"About when it comes up. When it goes down." There was some motioning with his hand, sweet tea keeping it company. Fred watched closely, eyes wide. "What it does is the middle."
"The middle?"
There was a shrug. Fred thought he was pretty good at those, especially when Mama got talking sometimes.
"In between, what it does during the day. When we can see it." Roger looked at his daughter closely. "Why wouldn't you want it to come up, anyway?"
It was Fred's turn to copy her father, her shrug a smallish sort of echo of his own, with the addition of her knees bumping into her chin. It still didn't make her move.
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe if it's been a really good night, I guess. Like Christmas, or a birthday, or something you don't want to be over. When the sun comes up the next day, that means it's really over, doesn't it?"
"Maybe," her father considered, passing over the tea and putting the glass in one of her hands. "But the next day could be just as good, and besides. There's just rules."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Los Angeles, March 2003
Fred watched as the black uncurled itself, flooding light and color, and all sorts of other things she didn't even have words for down into the city. It wasn't warm yet, not the way it should be, but there was plenty of heat coming from Lorne's smile. The rest would come soon enough.
"...there's just rules."
And maybe it didn't mean that the day before was really over, or even the weeks full of them before that. She could face that, Fred decided, because there wasn't back porches, and grasshoppers either. They'd gotten this far. There were some things you just couldn't stop, and Fred included her friends on that list.
There were just rules.
