late morning
Jul 20, 2014 0:40:00 GMT -5
Post by Nina Fortner on Jul 20, 2014 0:40:00 GMT -5
After parting with her father, Nina chose to go jogging on her own. She told herself it was just because exercise was a good start to the day, something she'd used to do, back in Heidelberg, that she was returning to being normal. But she knew this for a lie and that she was really using jogging as an excuse to sink into morose thoughts and not rise from them again.
Being with Adrian hadn't made her feel any better in the long run. For the time being she had felt placated, but it settled into a reminder that Adrian accepted her because they were the same thing. It wasn't about biological family, she reflected. It had nothing to do with being father and daughter. Rather, they could relate instinctively because they were genetically the same. If they had been clones, if they had been robots, it would have been the same. She could choose to treat him as her father and he could choose to treat her as daughter, but human relationships like that weren't what they really had.
No wonder Megan despises you. The wonder is that no one else does.
Her thoughts drifted to Silva, as she paused on the beach to catch her breath, wiping sweat from her forehead.
He had complained of her crying, of her neediness, but somehow, she had never struck him as despicable. If any man alive could sense she was unusual, she thought ardently that it would be him. She had the utmost faith in his ability to read people - to read her. Yet he had treated her as a novice and a child because his own divorce from humanity was so extreme.
People talked to her about Raoul in gentle tones of voice as though she were mad to love him and mentally willing away all that was apparent about him - his cruelty and his inability to connect - but she knew it all already. She knew he was amoral; she knew he'd murdered men and women in his line of work and she was certain he was no stranger to it now, for what sort of ex-spy dropped into respectable living? Certainly no man with such an easily disconnected cell phone, no man who went from hotel to hotel. And she knew other things - she believed he wore false teeth and his body was covered in scars, there was no shortage of physical atrocities he had clearly been through. She knew he was damaged and cruel and she didn't care. It only made him more precious to her.
She was wishing he were here, she realized, and the thought swept over her with no small surge of shame. It was one thing to miss him and another entirely to wish he would come take her away from all of this, from the singular humiliation of being a visible beacon of abnormality surrounded by "normals", as Megan had ironically said.
If only I could have interested him, she thought sadly, looking out at the sun in the pale blue sky. It was still so early in the morning, but it was growing hot quickly. It was funny in its own way that the man she had felt the most at ease with could possibly reject her because she was not terrible enough to be appealing, too green and childish. If only I were a hardened assassin, like him, she thought, feeling the corner of her mouth twitch upward. She knew she didn't really want that. She wouldn't like it, and besides, if she were someone he would be interested in, he probably wouldn't have appealed to her. How messy life was.
She realized with a start and an intake of sea air that she wouldn't have appealed to someone else had she been like that. Curt was warded off by her as much as other people, but something about her still intrigued him. Maybe it was his being a geneticist and her the successful spawn of a eugenics program - and maybe it was the natural result of being a lonely divorcee, and she a nubile young lady.
All the same, Curt knew what she was, and he wasn't an uncomfortable mirror throwing it in her face, either. She wished now more than ever that she had stayed in bed with Curt and woken him with a touch. She groaned, digging her toe into the sand. How stupid to wish for a cruel man to come take her away from the only family that remained to her - how stupid to have not stayed in bed with Curt. She could picture an alternate reality already, where her morning never crossed paths with Megan's arguably correct dislike of her. She wondered if Curt would have made love to her, if he had woken in a gentle mood. Her limited understanding of men hinted that he might. Raoul had before, and she knew - she knew Curt wanted her at times, sharply enough that it embarrassed him. Didn't he know she wanted him too? She hadn't been clear enough, she knew that now.
Or, she thought with a sinking feeling a short while after she'd begun jogging back to the house, maybe he desires my body, but for me personally he only wants to be friends, and this embarrasses him.
But she didn't care anymore, she decided; if he wanted to be her friend and enjoy her body, she was lonely enough not to care; and she wanted his friendship now, she wanted the one person on this island who knew what she was, and did not judge her for it. His presence would be a soothing balm to the dark misery she found herself in after leaving that dining room.
Nina entered the house in, not precisely a cheery mood, but a determined one. She was certain running had made a ruin of her hair again, and she found a mirror in the hallway and futzed with it til it looked halfway presentable.
Being with Adrian hadn't made her feel any better in the long run. For the time being she had felt placated, but it settled into a reminder that Adrian accepted her because they were the same thing. It wasn't about biological family, she reflected. It had nothing to do with being father and daughter. Rather, they could relate instinctively because they were genetically the same. If they had been clones, if they had been robots, it would have been the same. She could choose to treat him as her father and he could choose to treat her as daughter, but human relationships like that weren't what they really had.
No wonder Megan despises you. The wonder is that no one else does.
Her thoughts drifted to Silva, as she paused on the beach to catch her breath, wiping sweat from her forehead.
He had complained of her crying, of her neediness, but somehow, she had never struck him as despicable. If any man alive could sense she was unusual, she thought ardently that it would be him. She had the utmost faith in his ability to read people - to read her. Yet he had treated her as a novice and a child because his own divorce from humanity was so extreme.
People talked to her about Raoul in gentle tones of voice as though she were mad to love him and mentally willing away all that was apparent about him - his cruelty and his inability to connect - but she knew it all already. She knew he was amoral; she knew he'd murdered men and women in his line of work and she was certain he was no stranger to it now, for what sort of ex-spy dropped into respectable living? Certainly no man with such an easily disconnected cell phone, no man who went from hotel to hotel. And she knew other things - she believed he wore false teeth and his body was covered in scars, there was no shortage of physical atrocities he had clearly been through. She knew he was damaged and cruel and she didn't care. It only made him more precious to her.
She was wishing he were here, she realized, and the thought swept over her with no small surge of shame. It was one thing to miss him and another entirely to wish he would come take her away from all of this, from the singular humiliation of being a visible beacon of abnormality surrounded by "normals", as Megan had ironically said.
If only I could have interested him, she thought sadly, looking out at the sun in the pale blue sky. It was still so early in the morning, but it was growing hot quickly. It was funny in its own way that the man she had felt the most at ease with could possibly reject her because she was not terrible enough to be appealing, too green and childish. If only I were a hardened assassin, like him, she thought, feeling the corner of her mouth twitch upward. She knew she didn't really want that. She wouldn't like it, and besides, if she were someone he would be interested in, he probably wouldn't have appealed to her. How messy life was.
She realized with a start and an intake of sea air that she wouldn't have appealed to someone else had she been like that. Curt was warded off by her as much as other people, but something about her still intrigued him. Maybe it was his being a geneticist and her the successful spawn of a eugenics program - and maybe it was the natural result of being a lonely divorcee, and she a nubile young lady.
All the same, Curt knew what she was, and he wasn't an uncomfortable mirror throwing it in her face, either. She wished now more than ever that she had stayed in bed with Curt and woken him with a touch. She groaned, digging her toe into the sand. How stupid to wish for a cruel man to come take her away from the only family that remained to her - how stupid to have not stayed in bed with Curt. She could picture an alternate reality already, where her morning never crossed paths with Megan's arguably correct dislike of her. She wondered if Curt would have made love to her, if he had woken in a gentle mood. Her limited understanding of men hinted that he might. Raoul had before, and she knew - she knew Curt wanted her at times, sharply enough that it embarrassed him. Didn't he know she wanted him too? She hadn't been clear enough, she knew that now.
Or, she thought with a sinking feeling a short while after she'd begun jogging back to the house, maybe he desires my body, but for me personally he only wants to be friends, and this embarrasses him.
But she didn't care anymore, she decided; if he wanted to be her friend and enjoy her body, she was lonely enough not to care; and she wanted his friendship now, she wanted the one person on this island who knew what she was, and did not judge her for it. His presence would be a soothing balm to the dark misery she found herself in after leaving that dining room.
Nina entered the house in, not precisely a cheery mood, but a determined one. She was certain running had made a ruin of her hair again, and she found a mirror in the hallway and futzed with it til it looked halfway presentable.