The Changed Ones

[[Testing Twine]] [[first draft|Start of story] [[second draft|Title] [[ideas]] [[Extras]] (if: $variable is value)[do the stuff in here]

CHAPTER 1: BOXES The bride kneels amongst heavy stacks of boxes, dwarfed by precarious towers of cardboard. Photograph frames clink as she shifts and tugs at her collar. Late summer humidity, rat droppings, the musk of ancient insulation that hangs like limp clouds from the splintery walls: these are her companions. There wasn't room, the groom told her, for these memories in his new house. These memories cannot follow her after the wedding one week away. And so they've sat here since their meeting, slowly curdling and crinkling in the humidity until their grainy black and white is more black and sickly cream. He's agreed to let her keep but a few. She has space for but one more in her small "keep" box. She blows a curtain of dust off a final small box marked //COLLEGE.// Within, she sees [[a college diploma.|A college diploma.]] [[a team portrait.|A team portrait.]] [[a party.|A party.]] [[nothing worth keeping.|No Photo]] 1

(set: $diploma to true)(set: $studious to 5)(set: $docileProactiveMeter to it +5)Even the dust and heat hasn't dulled the shine of the foil star marking her graduation. The signatures of the dean and president still stand bold in dark ink. And there, her name in large official letters: BARBARA WILLIAMS. In spite of herself, in spite of the irrelevance of this fragile paper in her impending married life, she feels a surge of pride. He'll scoff at her later, but she can't bring herself to throw it away. She puts it in the small box marked //KEEP.// [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|barbara]] 1.1

(set: $mountain to true)(set: $brave to 5)She cringes now to remember the mud on her face from digging around in the dirt, the mason jars filled with bugs that sometimes ate each other and leaves that quickly withered. It started with a boy, of course—an aspiring entomologist with a dimpled, toothy smile—but then she just kept going, long after he wandered off to girls without perpetually grubby knees. If the groom had met her then, he would've spit acid and written her off. Still, the image of her crouched in the dirt, mud on the hem of her great plaid skirt and a foolish grin under that stupid safari hat, brings the ghost of a smile to her lips. She puts the photograph in the small box marked //KEEP//. [Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|barbara]

(set: $party to true)(set: $charming to 5)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)The faces seem blurry now, almost unfamiliar to her, like the flat faces of the celebrities with their glazed eyes staring up from the pages of the //Women and Beauty// magazines that the groom keeps buying her. The bride tilts the photo to get a clearer view against the glare of the attic window. That one must be Sharon, yes, with the brown pin curls, and that one—Leah? Lonna?—in the low-cut blouse. And Robert, he was a beau, she's sure, of the blonde whose name escapes her—the blonde grinning up into his face with a raw hunger nearly alien to the bride. Yet these were once her closest friends—their arms hooked around each other's necks and backs, a cup on the brink of sloshing over, spotted party hats askew on their tangled hair. Someone has scrawled, in pink nail polish, "We love you, Barbara!" followed by a sloppy line of hearts. Those were dumber times, she thinks, and ones the groom needn't know about. Yet the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. She puts it in the small box marked //KEEP//. [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|barbara]] 1.2

(set: $team to true)(set: $strong to 5)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)A line of girls in modest athleticwear link arms on a sunny track. The damp of the attic has left wet seepages on the sides of the delicate paper, but even time and dust can't darken the bright sky and the laughter frozen in time. She tilts the photo away from the glare of the attic window to peer into their faces. There she is on the far right, slimmer than now, socks falling down, frizz escaping her bouffant—a mess, a stranger. That one on her left must be Sharon, yes, with the brown pin curls, and the right—Leah? Lonna?—in the low-cut tennis blouse. The names mean little to her now, but the way they clutch her shoulders, the way she leans on them, the open and wide-eyed way they grin at the camera—she feels a pang of longing, yet the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. She puts it in the small box marked //KEEP//. [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|barbara]] 1.3

The bride pushes limp, damp hair from her forehead and sits back on her heels. A fly bumps again and again against the window with an irritating drone. She squints up at it, then turns to the attic trapdoor. Her childhood home had been tense at times. She grew up with [[a single mother. |single mother]] [[two parents who fought often.|two parents]][married parents; revelation is that they're unhappy marriage in next section] 2

=><= (css: "font-size: 300%")[Matrimony] by Olivia Bernard [[Begin|Keepsakes]]

(set: $nophoto to true)(set: $submissive to 5)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)The bride sighs in frustration. The worth of these stacks has drained away. What is married life if not a fresh slate, free of her past? How well she can kick a ball or climb a mountain or take a test or drink a pint: none of that will matter in one week's time. She sweeps the collection of frames into the garbage with a clatter. Hangovers and rock burns. A past to be rid of. He didn't know her then—a wild, loose girl dancing with strangers. No. She's going to remake herself into someone the groom can be //proud// to have as a wife. At their new home, she vows, the neighbors won't whisper. She closes the "keep" box with a snap. [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|barbara]] 1.4

(set: $mantisMother to true)Her mother looks at the bride with hard, dark eyes that track from her face to the small box in her hands. Her mouth flattens into a line. "That's all?" The bride cringes a little in spite of herself. Heat rises to her cheeks. That sharp, scolding voice that could make any grown woman squirm. "It's all that will fit, Mother." Silence. Pointed silence. It hangs in the thick attic air between them, smothering. She knows what her mother thinks of [[the groom]]. 3.1.1

(set: $mantisMother to false)Her mother gazes down at the tiny box with limpid eyes. Her makeup has settled in the creases of her face, lipstick cracked. Under her crisp white apron, that ancient plaid wool dress hangs limply in the attic humidity, long-sleeved despite the summer heat wave. The bride saw her mother's arms once, when she peeked into her closet as a girl and caught her changing. A line of evenly spaced spots, blotchy like bruises, ran down them. Mottled, with little shattered pieces like bits of bone poking through. Darker than the marks across the bride's backside from her father's spanking that followed. "Good," her mother says. "A fresh start. His family will be pleased." Her eyes drift to the middle distance, and the bride knows she's thinking of [[the groom]]. 3.2.1

Over time, though, her mother had become more accomodating, slipping away when her father was in one of his moods instead of screaming back. The bride welcomed it. The house was quieter, fewer expletives and thumps echoing through the hallways into her childhood bedroom no matter how tightly she pulled the covers over her ears. Now the neighbors whispered less, and their children's mocking quelled somewhat. Fewer raised eyebrows, more invitations to picnics and Bible study groups. Her mother pushes the trapdoor open and climbs delicately into the hot room. She blinks in the dim light. "Barb, honey, are you finished?" [["Yes, Mother."|Failed mantis mother]] 3.2

Her mother is a widow, but any sympathy from her peers dried up fast under her glares. A darkhaired beauty, certainly, with her high cheekbones and piercing gaze. But her attitude distanced her from potential suiters, no matter how the bride prayed at church that a good man would come to their house. Her mother never remarried. Rumors circulated that she was a wild woman, a tempter with a temper, with half a dozen to a dozen men—the numbers varied. Undesirable, in any case. The bride heard her mother called prickly, haughty, a real brick. By high school, she had inherited the insults, no matter how warm and cheerful she tried to be. No invitations to picnics or study groups save a few pity calls. (if: $submissive is 5)[Resentment grew in the bride until she spent more time out of the house than in it. She bought women's magazines on her small allowance and learned tips and tricks of makeup to powder and pretty herself enough that the boys forgot her mother's stigma. She would catch a man as soon as she could.](else-if: $studious is 5)[She kept her head down. Books were her constant companions instead. They, at least, didn't crow at her. Instead, her mind whirled with far-off countries, girls in grand dresses, balls and masquerades, daring heists and hopeless romance. And mathematics, if she had to.](else-if: $team is 5)[She joined the women's track team and ran until the whispers faded under the loud thumping of her heart. Her speed bought her a grudging respect, and soon the boys took an interest in her long, strong legs.] Her mother throws the trapdoor open with a grunt and hoists herself into the attic, brushing dust off her trousers. She towers above the bride, a giantess in a city of cardboard, hands on her hips. "Finished, then?" [["Yes, Mother."|Mantis mother]] 3.1

Note: look up mantis symbology/mythology A woman at the Bible group referencing a feminist neighbor or something that the rest of them all gossip about placid mother keeps slipping her ads about douching https://rarehistoricalphotos.com/vintage-advertisements-women-need-for-marital-security/ Women all over are transforming into mantises before their weddings, and each must decide how to react 'If you don't keep trim, you'll never keep him.'—diet ad https://clickamericana.com/topics/food-drink/fifties-weight-loss-the-10-day-miracle-diet-1950—child of non-mantis used to have an eating disorder?

The bride and the groom were college sweethearts. They met before the war, [[in the library.]] [[at a dance.]] [[at a track competition.]] [[randomly, between classes.]] 4

He charmed her parents the moment he stepped through the door. In minutes he and her dad were slapping backs and laughing in that throaty way men do when they drink with the good old boys. Over dinner, the groom gushed compliments all over the jiggling tower of chicken Jell-O her mother had prepared until she was blushing like a girl. Warmth and laughter filled the house like it hadn't in a long, long time. By the end of that first evening, her father was more than eager to give $name away. He all but gave her away right there, over the wobbly remains of the Jell-O. The groom proposed there on the front porch, all the while turning as pink as the night he first asked her out. Of course $name accepted. Her mother cooed and cried and her father smiled proudly, as if he'd sold a jumbo load of cleaning accouterments ("4,000,000 women switch to... Perma-Broom!"). Back at school, her single peers joked (not a little jealously) that now her M.R.S. degree was complete and she'd better [[drop out.|mother advice]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : meet the parents)]

(set: $sumbissive to it +5)(set: $docileProactiveMeter to it -3)He caught her eye on the quad between her home economics and British lit classes and gave her a roguish wink. She was smitten. A pre-med with touseled pompodour, a heartbreaking dimple on his chin, and a future in medicine to support her dreams of home and family—how could she not? She tailed him to restaurants and practiced her flirting and preening in the mirror. She gobbled up makeup magazines (if: $mantisMother is true)[and stashed under her mattress, away from her mother's prying, judgmental eyes](else:)[that her mother purchased in a frenzy after she mentioned him]. At last, he asked her out. Soon, they were going steadier than anyone she knew. She felt surrounded by light. She dropped out of college not long after that, with her M.R.S, as her peers derisively called it, complete. A part-time job at a grocery was all she needed until he would come and sweep her into his life. She met him in the evenings at the diner or the darkness at the back of the drive-in theater, where they whispered about the future. A home, certainly. A house outside the city. A good sturdy Ford. [[Then the war called, and he answered.|the war] 4.4

(set: $strong to it +5)(set: $docileProactiveMeter to it +8)She'd won the women's 800 meter dash. Her speed was unmatched. The pumping of her legs, the pound of her feed against the track. She relished it. Her time was better than any of those in the men's division, and their sour stares across the track proved it. But his face held only admiration. A pre-med with a wind-touseled pompodour, a heartbreaking dimple on his chin, and, well, that runner's derriére—enough to make even her strong legs weaken. Two track meets later, he asked her out, and of course she accepted. He called her Atty, after Atalanta, the powerful runner of Greek myth. And he became her Hippomenes. She was glad to slow for him during their daily training on the field. A few times, she even let him win (though not often(if: $mantisMother is false)[, despite her mother's nattering about how a woman should not be stronger than her man]). Her single peers joked, not a little jealously, that now her M.R.S degree was complete and she'd better quit school. But she wasn't about to drop out of any race, least of all college, even as they planned their dreams in the sweaty haze after a good long run. A home, certainly. A house outside the city. A good sturdy Ford. [[Then the war called, and he answered.|the war] 4.3

(set: $brave to it +5)It was their yearly five-mile trek through the rolling hills a few miles off campus. (if: $brave is 5)[She kept her head up, shoulders thrown back. She stared the taunters in the face as her mother did until they looked away. A girl hit her once, but the bloody nose she returned kept the other bullies away. She thought sometimes the school was scared of her. She didn't mind so much in those days.]

(set: $charming to it +5)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)Back then the bride could swing with the best, twisting and twirling across the dance floor to the throb of the music. She relished the beat, the music pulsing over lively conversation, bright-colored dresses and men in their sport coats and bright-colored drinks. The bark of laughter across the crowd, the billow of her dress, the couples sneaking to the corners, the feverish heat of eager bodies leaving not quite enough room for Jesus. He slipped up beside her before she knew what was happening—until he spun and caught her in a twirl that stole the breath from her lungs. A pre-med with touseled pompodour, a heartbreaking dimple on his chin, and arms strong enough to sweep her into the air with a dizzying rush—she nearly fell over, with how her knees weakened. At the spring formal he asked her out, formal-like, in the breathless haze after a swing. Of course she accepted. Her single peers joked, not a little jealously, that now her M.R.S degree was complete and she'd better drop out. But she wouldn't miss the whirl of college life, the dances and the chatter and the gossip, for anything. On the sticky couches after the party had faded long into the morning, they planned their dreams. A home, certainly. A house outside the city. A good sturdy Ford. [[Then the war called, and he answered.|the war] 4.2

(set: $studious to it +5)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)They said she'd never catch a man with her nose in a book, but the men she was interested in needed to study too. And so their two paths crossed. She was always buried in her novels, and he in his textbooks, across the atrium poring over their books and sneaking stares. She still recalls fondly the day he asked to sit with her. A pre-med with a touseled pompodour, a heartbreaking dimple on his chin, and //Anatomy and the Human Body// under one arm—she felt her knees weaken the moment he shuffled his papers onto her desk. Study break chats turned into something deeper. He asked her out on Valentine's Day, and of course she accepted. Her single peers joked, not a little jealously, that now her M.R.S degree was complete and she'd better drop out. But she was determined to see her college through alongside him even as they planned their dreams in whispered conversations passed between the library stacks. A home, certainly. A house outside the city. A good sturdy Ford. [[Then the war called, and he answered.|the war] 4.1

A weight settled over them the moment he stepped through the door. Her mother serveilled him with eyes sharp enough to make him sweat. When he spread his arms for a companionable embrace, she grasped his soft doctor's hand in her strong calloused grip and gave him a tight formal handshake instead. Even the compliments he gushed over her watery pot pie didn't soften her. "Why did you treat him like that?" the bride cried later, when she and her mother were alone. "He just wanted to meet you." "He wanted a permission that only you can give." He was rattled; the bride could tell. He left at the end of the night without asking her mother the marriage question. He proposed anyway, and she accepted. Back at school, her single peers joked (not a little jealously) that now her M.R.S degree was complete and she'd better (if: $mantisMother is false)[[[drop out.|nonmantis advice](else:)[[[drop out.|mantis advice] 4.1 (single mother)

(if: $mantisMother is true)["He's outside," her mom says, breaking the silence. The ice in her voice remains. As if to punctuate her words, the bride hears another horn blast from outside.] She rises to her feet, dusty knees popping, and gives the attic a last look. Spiders and memories not worth keeping. The fly throws itself against the window one last time and drops to the sill. The bride stares at it for a moment, then looks down to the driveway through the glass. Below, she can see his silver Dodge gleaming in the late afternoon light. By the time she turns back, her mother has already descended the attic ladder into the house below. The bride sighs and dusts off the pleated front of her skirt. Then she picks up the box of frames and follows her mother down (if: $mantisMother is true)[[[into the house.|mantis nest] 6

The house is a mess. Books piled in corners and strewn across the kitchen table. Dirty dishes piled in the sink. Her mother's muddy workboots beside the door. She'd never lost her factory job, not even after the war ended and the survivors returned for their jobs—perhaps because the overseers were too nervous to tell her she was fired. Her mother could be an intimidating presence. But she was horrible at keeping house, as any neighbor who came to the door loudly and sniffily observed. Her mother is already standing by the door, fists on her hips. She grimaces at the sound of another honk from outside. "I suppose you'll be back late." The bride sighs. "I don't know, Ma. I suppose." She takes the door handle. "Wait." The bride pauses. Her mother fishes in the pockets of her grease-stained work trousers and hands the bride a small pink box reading //Lanteen.// It's not until the bride opens it that she realizes what it is. She's read about it in one of the marriage mags the groom gave her: a diaphragm. The magazine called them a menace and printed a melodramatic anecdote of a woman whose got stuck. //I'll never have a child now!// the text wailed, with an illustration of her disgusted husband leaving the house. The bride flushes red. "Ma... the wedding hasn't even happened..." "Men get impatient," her mother says. Beneath her loose top, her shoulders are tense. "I had you seven months after //my// wedding. Not my decision." The bride pauses. Her mother rarely speaks of her wedding, and even less of the birth, no matter how the bride pressed. "But we do want kids," she says after a moment. "Don't trust him," her mother says, "to let you change your mind about that." [[Take it.|take diaphragm]] (6.1.1) [[Refuse it.|refuse diaphragm]] (6.1.2) 6.1

The house is pristine. Everything in its place and well-dusted. Family portraits on the walls, not a speck of grease nor dirty dish in the kitchen, the red shag carpet in front of the fireplace recently vacuumed, the checkered linen tablecloth freshly ironed. The bride could smell something already simmering on the stove—roast chicken, based on the cookbook propped beside the stove. Her father, she guessed, was still selling cleaning accoutrements at the firm downtown ("4,000,000 women switch to... Perma-Broom!"). Her mother stops her before the door. Her hands flutter through her massive apron pockets like nervous birds. "Barb, honey, I have something for you." She extricates a few copies of //The Bride's Magazine//. "I—I've given it some highlighting, you know... your father and I, we know what's important with marriage, dear..." She's pushed these magazines on the bride before, full of Listerine and dishwasher ads that, at the very least, helped her convince the groom to get a Kelvinator for their new kitchen. But her mother's anxious puttering has only increased the closer the wedding becomes. "They'll help," her mother says, noticing the bride's pause. [[Take them.|accept bride magazine]] [[Refuse them.|refuse bride magazine]] 6.2

(set: $docileProactive to it +5)The bride sighs. //I don't want them// seems cruel, so she says, "Mother, we have too little room as it is." Her mother's brow creases. "But, dear—" Before she can protest, the bride wraps her in a hug and places a kiss on her powdered forehead. "I'll be fine, Mom, really." She pulls back. "I can always read the eight others. And the handbook." "Oh." Her mother's wrists limpen a bit. "Of course, hon. It's just that—well, marriage changes you, love. It really does." "Right." The bride grabs her purse. "I'll see you later." "9 PM!" her mother calls after her as the bride opens the door and heads to [[the car, post magazine]]. 6.2.2

(set: $docileProactive to it -5)(set: $magazine to true)The bride softens. "Thanks, Ma." Her mother's face flushes with relief as the bride takes the magazines and ruffles through them. "Oh, good. Forgive your old mom, I'm just worried—well, my own mother didn't prepare me much for the //details,// and you know, marriage changes you, love. It really does." The bride picks her purse up off the couch and tucks the magazines into it. "I'll take a look." She leans in and gives her mother a hug and a peck on her powdered forehead. "I'll see you later." "9 PM!" her mother calls after her as the bride opens the door and heads to [[the car, post magazine]]. 6.2.1

The groom leans out the car window as she scurries to the passenger seat(if: $nophoto is false)[, frames clinking]. His hair is slicked back and touseled by the wind of the drive. He gives her a sharp stare. "What took you so long?" then, with a closer look at her still-pink face, he adds, "is something wrong?" She slips in beside him (if: $nophoto is false)[and puts the box at her feet]. "No, no... you know how my mother is." "Nasty." He grunts and shifts the car into reverse. "Won't have to deal with her anymore soon." She can see her mother through the glare of the window, arms crossed, watching as they [[pull away.|drive away] 6.1.1/6.1.2

(set: $docileProactive to it +5)(set: $diaphragm to true)"He'll listen," the bride says, but she slips the diaphragm into her purse all the same, despising how her voice quavers. The tension in her mother's shoulders relaxes somewhat. "Good," she says, more to herself than to the bride. She tries to will away the red in her cheeks as she turns back to the door. "I'm going. I'll see you later." "Marriage changes you, love. Don't forget that." The bride slips out the door and nearly runs to [[the waiting car|the car, post mantis]], eager to put the specter of parent-child sex talk behind her. 6.1.1

(set: $docileProactive to it -5)"No, that's ridiculous. He'd listen." The bride pushes the tin back at her mother, but she doesn't move to take it. Instead, she stares down the bride with those dark, inscrutable eyes of hers until the bride puts the tin on the window ledge and swings her purse over her shoulder. "I'm going. I'll see you later." "Marriage changes you, love. Don't forget that." The bride slams the door behind her, face burning, and nearly runs to [[the waiting car|the car, post mantis]], eager to put the specter of parent-child sex talk behind her. 6.1.2

As the car putters forward, $name feels a slight rumbling deep in her torso, followed by a painful cramp, like a small pinching just beneath her skin. Perhaps her cycle is starting. She puts a hand to her stomach and waits for it to pass. But the rumble stays with her as they drive away. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 1]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : drive away)]

The groom leans out the car window as she scurries to the passenger seat(if: $nophoto is false)[, frames clinking]. His hair is slicked back and touseled by the wind of the drive. He gives her a sharp stare. "What took you so long?" "Ah, my mother and her magazines. You know how she is..." He grunts and shifts the car into reverse. "Won't have to deal with her anymore soon." She can see her mother through the glare of the window, waving as they pull away. 6.2.3

(css: "font-size: 120%")[INSIGHTS] (if: $docileProactive is > 0)[You are more proactive than docile.](else-if: $docileProactive is < 0)[You are more docile than proactive.](else:)[You are equal parts docile and proactive.] Total number of docile/proactive choices: $DPtotal Number of docile options chosen: $numDocile Number of proactive options chosen: $numProactive [[Next Chapter|The Whispering Furrow]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insights ch 1)]

=><= (css: "font-size: 200%")[2. The Whispering Furrow] <== When the bride wakes early the next morning, she finds a deep groove tucked into her torso, sternum to navel, like a long teardrop molded in flesh. She examines the furrow in the bathroom mirror. When she traces her hands around its smooth edges, the shuff of flesh on flesh whispers in her abdominis. It feels heavy, almost, this new sensation: a weighted blanket, a soft sort of calm. It prickles gently against the inside of her skin. Her mother's call from downstairs bursts through her stomach in a jarring rattle. The bride makes her way to the staircase in a haze. The crack and snap of the carpet under her feet. The rustle of her nightshirt. They echo through her. Dizzying. (if: $mantisMother is false)[(if: $dress is false and $keptBox is true)[[[She can hear dishes clinking in the kitchen.|angry mother]]](else-if: $dress is false and $keptBox is false)[[[She can hear dishes clinking in the kitchen.|sad mother]]](else:)[[[She can hear dishes clinking in the kitchen.|placid mother]]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : The Whispering Furrow)]

The house is pristine. Everything in its place and well-dusted. Family portraits on the walls, not a speck of grease nor dirty dish in the kitchen, the red shag carpet in front of the fireplace recently vacuumed, the checkered linen tablecloth freshly ironed. $Name can smell something already simmering on the stove—roast chicken, based on the cookbook propped beside the stove. Her father, she guessed, was still selling cleaning accoutrements at the firm downtown ("4,000,000 women switch to... Perma-Broom!"). Her mother pauses in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. "Wait a moment, Barb, honey." She turns and gives the bride a small, giddy smile. "I have something special for you." And she flutters into the master bedroom. $Name lingers by the door, fingering her purse straps. There comes shuffling and clinking, her mother tittering to herself, and her mother emerges beaming and clutching a [[great white drape of fabric|the dress]] by its hanger. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pristine home)]

It takes $name a moment to recognize it as a dress—the same dress from those old grainy photos of her parents' wedding, and her grandparents', and her cousin's, all side by side on the fireplace mantle. In those pictures, it looks so white it was almost blinding. "It's an heirloom," her mother gushes. "I just know you'll look just //stunning..."// $Name takes some of the fabric in her hands. Elaborate beadwork and tiny pearls speckle the bodice and the elaborate needlework that runs in flowery patterns down its sides. But time has yellowed it; the lace droops, the long train is dusty from dragging on the floor, and great decorative folds of fabric sag at the waist. She takes the hanger from her mother and nearly drops it. The dress weighs as much as a small child. "It's kind of you, Ma, but..." She'd hoped her mother had forgotten. How to tell her that she'd already had her eye on a dress, one of those modern designs that flips out at the knee into a pretty full-circle A-line that swings and twirls like a dove's wing? Her mother sees her hesitation. "You'll be the fourth Williams in the family to wear the dress. It's a tradition. And buying a new one, dear, well—it will be so //expensive// and it will make your grandmama //so// sad..." $Name runs a hand over the fabric with a small sigh. Yellowed though it is, the memories that run through this fabric are her family's, with a lineage larger than those nested in her little box of keepsakes. A history in this gown. A little washing and it would shine white as those photographs again. [[Accept it.|accept dress]] [[Refuse it.|refuse dress]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : the dress)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $dress to true)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name closes her eyes and inhales the scent of the fabric. Three women across three generations before her walked down the aisle in this dress. Beneath the musk of age and the faint aura of sweat there's a sliver of perfume, a touch of sweet that spins like a flower petal through her sinuses. Her mother is still fretting. "—And think of your fiancé, honey—he simply won't approve if you don't go traditional. There was a man in Fresno who turned right around and left his bride at the altar over a dress. I read about it." $Name pauses. It's true that he'd never approved of her A-line, "that damned skimpy little thing." She knows what he'd say to this choice. The way his face would glow with surprise—he'd smile wider than she'd seen for a long time—when he realized which she'd chosen. This dress, that smell—as much a family heirloom as any jewel. The weight, the train, the broken lace, the loose pearls: small sacrifices. "Okay, Ma, I'll take it." Her mother's face contorts into such relief that $name is sure she's on the verge of tears. She squeezes $name in a hug tight enough that $name can feel her ribs through her dress. "Oh, darling, thank heavens, I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad—" $Name places a kiss on her powdered forehead and gently extricates herself as another honk sounds outside. "Look, Ma, I have to go. I'll take it and we'll find—well, *somewhere* that'll rush an alteration. Put it in my room, please?" "See you at 9PM," her mother says as $name hands back the heavy hanger. "Of course, Ma." She grabs her photo box and her purse and heads out to [[the car.|the car] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accept dress)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $dress to false)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"Ma, I'm sorry, I can't take it. Look, it's falling apart, and I've already got one in mind." She tries to hand the huge dress back. Her mother's face falls. She pushes the it back at $name. "But—but think of your fiancé, honey—he simply won't approve if you don't go traditional." She twists her apron in her hands. "There was a man in Fresno who turned right around and left his bride at the altar over a dress. I read about it." "You know those silly periodicals make that all up." Right? She pushes unbidden images of the groom's darkening face, the way his lips pursed looking at the A-line in the bridal magazine (//that damned skimpy little thing?//), from her mind. //"Please//. These things matter. //Traditions// matter. It's just that—well, marriage changes you, love. It really does." $Name shakes her head and lays the giant gown over the back of a living room armchair. Another honk sounds outside. "Look, I have to go." Before her mother can wedge in another protest, the bride wraps her in a hug and places a kiss on her powdered forehead. "I'll be fine, Mom, really." "Be back at 9, honey," her mother says, a quaver in her voice, "please." "Of course, Ma." The bride grabs her photo box and her purse and heads out to [[the car.|the car] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse dress)]

The groom leans out the car window as $name scurries to the passenger seat(if: $nophoto is false)[, frames clinking]. His hair is slicked back and ruffled by the wind of the drive. He fixes her with a sharp stare. "What took you so long?" $Name slips in beside him (if: $nophoto is false)[and puts the box at her feet]. (if: $dress is false)[She looks back at the house to avoid catching his eye. "Just... my mother, you know. She worries."](if: $dress is true)["Oh, nothing! Just... putting together the last few things. And ma and her scheduling, you know..."] He shrugs and leans over to give her a warm peck on the cheek. "Glad to hear it, angel." She can see her mother through the glare of the window, (if: $dress is true)[waving,](else-if: $dress is false)[twisting her frail hands together,] as the car [[rumbles to life.|remembrance]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : the car)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +6)The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, stuffs a sandwich into the stained paper bag that has served as her lunchbox for far too long. Her hair is tucked back in a tight knot at the back of her head, her gray factory jumpsuit freshly laundered, yet still bearing faint grease stains on its front. "There's a sandwich and boiled eggs in the fridge. Wash the dishes, will you? And if that damned (if: $graduate is false)[grocer](else:)[attorney] hassles you about your hemline again just call me and I'll give him a few things to think about." The bride barely hears her over the soft rumbles that each word carries. At her silence, her mother turns with a frown. "Barbara, are you even listening?" She rouses. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "Christ, Barb. Take an aspirin. You're a big girl." "No, I mean... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. The whisper of fabric strums through her. The furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother pauses. She walks to the stairs and kneels in front of the bride to examine the new mark. Her calloused fingers trace its outline, ever so gently. Then she stands. The ghost of a smile teases her lips. "Carry on, Barb. It's nothing to worry about." The bride's mouth opens, but she can't think of anything to say. Her mother removes her utility belt from its hook on the wall beside the door. When she turns back to face the bride, her lips are pinched. [["One more thing."|mantis says keep your job]]

(set: $docileProactive to it -6)The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, is stuffing a sandwich into the stained paper bag that has served as her lunchbox for far too long. Her hair is tucked back in a tight knot at the back of her head, her gray factory jumpsuit freshly laundered, yet still bearing faint grease stains on its front. "There's a sandwich and boiled eggs in the fridge. Wash the dishes, will you?" The bride barely hears her over the soft rumbles that each word carries. At her silence, her mother turns with a frown. "Barbara, are you even listening?" she snaps. She rouses. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "Christ, Barb. Take an aspirin. You're a big girl." The bride deflates a little. "...Yes, Ma." Her mother pauses. Her eyes glint as she traces the bride with a sharp gaze. Then, with a curt nod, she turns away. "Well. I'll see you tonight. And if that damned (if: $graduate is false)[grocer](else:)[attorney] hassles you about your hemline again just call me and I'll give him a few things to think about." The bride grates a palm against her forehead and groans. "Please don't do that." Her mother removes her utility belt from its hook on the wall beside the door. When she turns back to face the bride, her lips are pinched. [["About that,"|mantis says keep your job]]," she says, and the bride feels her stomach sink.

(set: $docileProactive to it -6)The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, is flitting back and forth from fridge to cabinet, a hearty sandwich her father's lunch on the counter—he must still be snoring in bed. At the sight of her daughter, she waves a thin hand to beckon her over. "Oh, thank goodness, Barb, grab me the extra coffee grounds from the cellar, won't you? The Oriental brew, please. You know how your father gets without his coffee, without the right kind..." The bride tiptoes to the basement and back, each creak of the floorboards whispering through her. Her mother takes the grounds and directs the bride to put some vegetables in one of the Tupperwares the neighbor with the noisy papillon is always selling. Finally the bride speaks. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "Is it that //time// again? That's perfectly natural, dear, though goodness, it had better end before, you know, the //night after..."// The bride deflates a little. "Oh. Oh yes. That must be it." Her mother turns back to the sink. "Well, don't just sit there, Barbara, wash the dishes, won't you?" The bride lets her nightshirt fall as her mother rattles on about the cabbage soup. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendonslike quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|mother says quit your job]]

(set: $docileProactive to it +6)The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, is flitting back and forth from fridge to cabinet, a hearty sandwich her father's lunch on the counter—he must still be snoring in bed. At the sight of her daughter, she waves a thin hand to beckon her over. "Oh, thank goodness, Barb, grab me the extra coffee grounds from the cellar, won't you? The Oriental brew, please. You know how your father gets without his coffee, without the right kind..." The bride tiptoes to the basement and back, each creak of the floorboards whispering through her. Her mother takes the grounds and directs the bride to put some vegetables in one of the Tupperwares the neighbor with the noisy papillon is always selling. Finally the bride speaks. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "Is it that //time// again?" "No, it's... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. The whisper of fabric strums through her. The furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother blinks at her, then at the exposed groove in her torso. "Well, you could stand to loose some weight, dear. Goodness, you only have a //week."// She pokes the bride's side with a slim finger. "These... //bulges// will never do once you're a wife. I'll find the diet book... and, you know, it never hurts to look young, and I look //years// younger since I tried that cabbage soup diet. It's in that bridal magazine I gave you... wash the dishes, there, won't you?" The bride lets her nightshirt fall as her mother rattles on about the cabbage soup. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendonslike quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|mother says quit your job]]

(set: $mantisMother to true) Did you accept the diaphragm? [[accepted diaphragm]] [[refused diaphragm]]

{(set: $mantisMother to false)(set: $docileProactive to 0)(set: $name to "Barbara")(set: $Name to "Barbara")(set: $DPtotal to 0)(set: $numDocile to 0)(set: $numProactive to 0)} Did you accept the dress? [[accepted dress]] [[refused dress]]

(set: $diaphram to true)Did she graduate? [[Yes|grad] [[No|dropout]

(set: $diaphragm to false)Did she graduate? [[Yes|grad] [[No|dropout]

(set: $dress to true)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)Did she graduate? [[Yes|grad]] [[No|dropout]]

(set: $dress to false)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)Did she graduate? [[Yes|grad]] [[No|dropout]]

=><= (css: "font-size: 200%")[1. Keepsakes] <== The bride kneels amongst heavy stacks of storage boxes, precarious cardboard towers looming above her. Photograph frames clink as she shifts and tugs at her collar. Late summer humidity, rat droppings, the musk of ancient insulation that hangs like limp clouds from the splintery walls: these are her companions. There wasn't room, the groom told her, for these memories in their new house. They cannot follow her after the wedding three days from now. And so they've sat here since the engagement, slowly curdling and crinkling in the humidity until their grainy black and white is more black and sickly cream. He's agreed to let her keep but a few. In her small container marked //KEEP// is a collection of family portraits, moth-bitten softball ribbons, and ripped childhood doodles that she's now glad her mother, for some reason, kept. //Irrelevant,// the groom scolds from the back of her mind. But she can't bring herself to throw them away. She brushes cobwebs from the bottom of the last mildewed memory box and withdraws [[the final picture|Carolyn]] there. (set: $DPtotal to 0)(set: $numDocile to 0)(set: $numProactive to 0)(set: $docileProactive to 0)(set: $name to "Barbara")(set: $Name to "Barbara")(set: $nodes to false) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Keepsakes)]

{(set: $docileProactive to 0)}On the frame, someone has scrawled, in pink nail polish, "We love you, Barbara!" followed by a sloppy line of hearts. The bride blows a layer of grime off the glass, sending dust bunnies scurrying. She blinks in surprise. A college party, not long before she met the groom. Most of the faces seem blurry now, almost unfamiliar to her, like the flat smiles of the celebrities with their glazed eyes staring up from the pages of the //Women and Beauty// magazines that the groom keeps buying her. That one must be Sharon, yes, with the brown pin curls, and that one—Robert? Roy?—standing beside a blonde who grins up into his face with a raw hunger nearly alien to the bride. She barely recognizes herself, off to the side, in a dress tight enough to make heat rise to her cheeks. And beside her, //Carolyn,// with that perpetual smirk on her lips and one arm hooked around the bride's neck—one of those people about whom rumors gathered like static. Carolyn had been arrested, Carolyn did coke, Carolyn had bedded twenty men. The bride shakes her head. The two of them had once been close. //Too// close. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Carolyn had moved away, far away, far from this small town life. But even distance and time can't dull the pressure of the arm around her neck, the sharp tang of alcohol on her tongue, the music throbbing somewhere beyond the frame, the blur of swinging dancers in the background. To her surprise, the bride finds a hot ache tugging at her stomach. [[Keep it.|keep photo]] [[Leave it.|leave photo]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Carolyn)]

here she was, young and twiggy in that bony, gangly way only pubescent kids can be, kicking her legs off the crossbar above a playground swingset. And standing in the seat of the swing below, with that same ironic quirk to her lips even then: //Carolyn.// She sits back on her heels and sighs. They'd been close as girls—//too// close, as some of the neighborhood moms thought. They grew up and then apart when Carolyn transferred to a new foster home. But her name always fluttered around the bride as she passed through high school and then to college: Carolyn had been arrested, Carolyn smoked, Carolyn had twenty men. -- They'd been close as girls—//too// close, as some of the neighborhood moms thought—swapping secrets, braiding hair, catching bugs losing themselves in the woods and in each other. — Resentment grew in the bride until she spent more time out of the house than in it. She bought women's magazines on her small allowance and learned tips and tricks of makeup to powder and pretty herself enough that the boys forgot her mother's stigma. She would catch a man as soon as she could. She kept her head down. Books were her constant companions instead. They, at least, didn't crow at her. Instead, her mind whirled with far-off countries, girls in grand dresses, balls and masquerades, daring heists and hopeless romance. And mathematics, if she had to. She even joined the women's softball team and ran until the whispers faded under the loud thumping of her heart. Her speed bought her a grudging respect, and soon the boys took an interest in her long, strong legs. -- The groom agreed. "What we've got, it matters more than a diploma, see?" He was both confident and earnest. "I can support us, sweetheart, honest," he said, clutching her hand as they walked through the park one evening. "I can get you everything you'll ever want." And he flashed her that hopeful grin that looked to her like a million bucks. -- Her mother came home late from the factories, smeared with dark grease and smelling of engines and sweat. Her arms thickened with muscles borne of hauling metal and pounding rivets.

(set: $cPhoto to true)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $numProactive to it +1)She closes her eyes and can almost see it again: friends clutching friends in a drunken haze, cups on the brink of sloshing over, spotted party hats askew on tangled hair. Back then she could swing with the best, twisting and twirling across the dance floor to the throb of the music. She relished the beat, the music pulsing over lively conversation, bright-colored dresses and men in their sport coats and drinks boozy enough to sting. The bark of laughter across the crowd, the billow of her dress, the feverish heat of eager bodies leaving not quite enough room for Jesus. Those were dumber times, she thinks, and ones the groom needn't remember. The blonde girl, Sharon, that guy Bobby or Robby or whomever, and even the walking trouble that was Carolyn—they wouldn't matter in her new life. Yet the ghost of a smile tugs at her lips. She puts it in the small box marked //KEEP//. [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|meet mother]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : keep photo)]

(set: $cPhoto to false)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)The bride grinds her palm against her forehead until the sensation fades. She grimaces. Everything this party represents—the rumors, the chaos, the disorderly disobedience—won't follow her to her new home. What is married life if not a fresh slate, free of her past? How well she can swing dance or take a test or drink a pint: none of that will matter in three days' time. She drops the frame into the garbage with a clatter. Hangovers and weeping over D's and passing out on couches. A wild, loose girl dancing with strangers. A past to be rid of. No. She's going to remake herself into someone the groom can be //proud// to have as a wife. At their new home, she vows, the neighbors won't whisper. She tosses the photograph back into its storage box and closes the "keep" box with a snap. [[Her mother calls her name from below the attic stairs.|meet mother]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave photo)]

The bride pushes limp, damp hair from her forehead and sits back on her heels. A fly bumps again and again against the window with an irritating drone. She squints up at it, then turns to the attic trapdoor. Her childhood home had been tense at times. She grew up with [[two parents who fought often.|married mom]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : meet mother)]

(set: $mantisMother to true)Her mother is a widow, but any sympathy from her peers dried up fast under her glares. A darkhaired beauty, certainly, with her high cheekbones and piercing gaze. But her attitude distanced her from potential suiters, no matter how the bride prayed at church that a good man would come to their house. Her mother never remarried. Rumors circulated that she was a wild woman, a tempter with a temper, with half a dozen to a dozen men—the numbers varied. Undesirable, in any case. The bride heard her mother called prickly, haughty, a real brick. By high school, she had inherited the insults, no matter how warm and cheerful she tried to be. No invitations to picnics or study groups save a few pity calls. Resentment grew in the bride until she spent more time out of the house than in it. She joined the women's softball team as pitcher and sprinted and swung until the whispers faded under the loud thumping of her heart. Eventually, her skill bought her a grudging respect and a few friends. Her mother throws the trapdoor open with a grunt and hoists herself into the attic, brushing dust off her trousers. She stands and towers above the bride, a giantess in a city of cardboard. "Finished, then?" (if: $cPhoto is true)[[["Yes, ma."|mantis approves C]]](else:)[[["Yes, ma."|mantis, no C]]] 3.1

(set: $mantisMother to false)Over time, though, her mother had become more accommodating, slipping away when her father was in one of his moods instead of screaming back. The bride welcomed it. The house was quieter, with fewer expletives and thumps echoing through the hallways into her childhood bedroom no matter how tightly she pulled the covers over her ears. Now the neighbors whispered less, and their children's mocking quelled somewhat. Fewer raised eyebrows, more invitations to picnics and Bible study groups. Her mother pushes the trapdoor open and climbs delicately into the hot room. She blinks in the dim light. "Barbara, honey, are you finished?" (if: $cPhoto is true)[[["Yes, ma."|mom judges C]]](else:)[[["Yes, ma."|mom approves]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : married mom)]

Her mother gazes down at the tiny box with limpid eyes. Her makeup has settled in the creases of her face, lipstick cracked. Under her crisp white apron, that ancient plaid wool dress hangs limp in the attic humidity, long-sleeved despite the summer heat wave. The bride saw her mother's arms once, when she peeked into her closet as a girl and caught her changing. A line of evenly spaced spots, blotchy like bruises, ran down them. Mottled, with little shattered pieces like bits of bone poking through. Darker than the marks across the bride's backside from her father's spanking that followed. "Good," her mother says. "A fresh start. His family will be pleased." Her eyes drift to the middle distance, and the bride knows she's thinking of [[the groom.|groom history] 3.2

The bride and the groom were college sweethearts. It was only natural that they'd met at one of those parties—the best place, her mother reminded her, to catch a man, as long as it was school-hosted and she wasn't, you know, too //wild.// She can't say she followed the letter //or// spirit of that law. He'd slipped up beside her before she knew what was happening—until he spun and caught her in a twirl that stole the breath from her lungs. A pre-med with a tousled pompadour, a heartbreaking dimple on his chin, and arms strong enough to sweep her into the air with a dizzying rush—she nearly fell over, with how her knees weakened. (if: (history:) contains "toss box")[$Name glances back toward the upturned box. Somewhere amid the castoffs is the snapshot taken on the night he formally asked her out. In her mind's eye, she sees it:](else:)[$Name glances at the keepsake box on the floor. Somewhere in its depths is the snapshot taken on the night he formally asked her out. In her mind's eye she sees it:] they stand side-by-side, he in his sharp suit jacket and bow tie, arm around her shoulders; she in that polka-dotted dress with the bow at the waist and a carnation corsage around her wrist that matches his large boutonniere. "Barb," he'd said, breathless and gleaming in the lights after a swing, "How would you—how'd you like to—y'know—" Oh, the way he'd blushed, a few strands of hair falling fetchingly from his careful 'do to curl across his forehead. $Name had wrapped her arms around his neck and swayed softly with the music as he found the words. She already knew the question, and how she'd answer. "How'd you like to //go// with me?" That big, adorable, boyish grin that spread across his pink face when she said yes—that, [[she'll never forget.|B&G dating]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom history)]

Her mother looks at the bride with hard, dark eyes that track from her face to the small box in her hands. Her mouth flattens into a line. "That's all?" The bride cringes a little in spite of herself. Heat rises to her cheeks. That sharp, scolding voice that could make any grown woman squirm. "It's all that will fit, Mother." Silence. Pointed silence. It hangs in the thick attic air between them, smothering. She knows what her mother thinks of [[the groom.|groom history] 3.1

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $graduate to true)(set: $numProactive to it +1)But she wouldn't miss the whirl of college life, the dances and the chatter and the gossip, for anything. She took typing courses and home ec and mathematics and classics and whatever caught her fancy. After reading career brochures, she changed her classics major to a minor and enrolled in the secretarial program—lots of opportunities for young women, decent wages. Even her mother admitted it was a good girl job. On the sticky couch, after the engagement party had faded long into the morning and homework was a distant ghost, they planned their dreams. A small wedding. A home, certainly. A house in the suburbs. A good sturdy Ford. "Two kids," he said. "We can name them Bicep and Tricep." "Sine and Cosine." "Tibia and Fibula." "Scylla and Charybdis." "Pea and Pod." "Hey, that one doesn't work." [[Then the war called, and he answered.|war/graduation]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : graduated)]

Her mother chuckled when her daughter complained about these comments. She'd never gone to college, never even applied—she got engaged straight out of high school. "You've reaped the benefit of college already, dear," she said. "And this one's sealed with a real ring, not a silly piece of paper." "I can support us, sweetheart, sure," the groom said when she mentioned this to him, clutching her hand as they walked through the park one evening. "I can get you everything you'll ever want. But you're a brainy gal and I don't think you'd like sitting around like that. I know you can do more. You're the smartest cookie ever baked." And he flashed her that open, carefree grin that looked to her like a million bucks. In the end, $name [[heeded her mother's advice, and dropped out.|dropped out]] [[ignored her mother's advice, and continued her studies.|graduated]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : mother advice)]

Her mother grimaced when her daughter mentioned these comments. She'd never had the option to go to college; her applications weren't accepted, and her parents' finances wouldn't have been enough anyway. As a single, uneducated woman, she clawed her way out of her parents' poverty and into the workforce with little more than a grim sort of determination. "College's a gift," she said. "Don't throw it away lightly." With a strange, dark smile, she added, "and if something happens, you need to work. You need to be self-sufficient." But the groom was both confident and earnest. "I can support us, sweetheart. Support us //both,//" he said, clutching her hand as they walked through the park one evening. "I can get you everything you'll ever want." And he flashed her that hopeful grin that looked to her like a million bucks. "What we've got matters more than a diploma." In the end, the bride [[ignored her mother's advice, and dropped out.|dropped out] (4.1.1) [[heeded her mother's advice, and continued her studies.|graduated] (4.1.2) 4.1 (single mother)

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $graduate to false)(set: $numDocile to it +1)She returned to live with her parents. Her mother busied herself teaching her a new kind of education—"the //real// education"—in homemaking. They rose early together before her father had woken, made a hot steaming breakfast and his lunch, swept the floors, and washed the dishes. Her mother eagerly circled new appliances and gadgets in her magazines for the bride's future home. When she found the time, she snuck to the library and buried herself in Greek myth. The groom, though a bit saddened that she'd left, always smiled at the stack of books in her room—"college-lite," as he called it. In the evenings, after he returned from his nightly anatomy lab, they planned their dreams. A small wedding. A home, certainly. A house in the suburbs. A good sturdy Ford. "Two kids," he said. "We can name them Bicep and Tricep." "Sine and Cosine." "Tibia and Fibula." "Scylla and Charybdis." "Pea and Pod." "Hey, that one doesn't work." [[Then the war called, and he answered.|war/dropout]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : dropped out)]

At last, they sent the groom home with pins in his tibia and a chunky leg cast after a shell exploded beneath his medical jeep. When he had finally left the hospital, she had visited him in his apartment to make soup and soft foods as he crutched around, grumbling and groaning, his skin hardened and dry from the dust and grime on the fields. He glowered from his bed and snapped at her when the soup was too thick. The laugh lines at the corners of his eyes only now crinkled when he winced. "Poor thing," she murmured, feeling his forehead one night. Jokingly, she added, "How about a little night-night story?" "Don't patronize me, Barbara," he grunted, voice slurred around the edges from his evening painkillers. She sat awake by his bedside that night as he slept, eyes searching for the silly, pink-cheeked man in his slack face. The doctors said to be gentle and patient as he was recovering. He'd be back to normal [[in no time.|groom recovery]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : changed by war)]

They sent weekly letters at first. But slowly it dried to biweekly, then monthly, as his language became clipped and his writing shorter. $Name asked what was wrong; it was the war, he said—too busy to write, too tired. Even though she knew he, a doctor, was not in the line of fire, she watched the news with tremulous anxiety that followed her into her nightmares. Sometimes, she felt the letters were the only things that kept her afloat in a sea of stress and homework. Other times, they were deadweights. He was not there for her graduation, which was a strange affair on a campus nearly empty of men. The commencement speaker blathered about patriotism while her mother sniffled and wept. The solid metal band around her ring finger and the shiny foil star on her diploma seemed equally unreal, ephemeral. Somewhere, bombs were falling, soldiers screaming, and her love in a bloodied lab coat amidst it all. $Name found an assistant secretarial position right away, 50 cents an hour, at a small legal firm downtown. Her mother bent her back day by day outside with a spade in her Victory Garden and came in to make meals reeking of compost and sweat. The stink made her father holler, and for a long time, her mother slept in a separate bedroom. She tried to lose herself in filing and typing and copying, or else in the radio soap operas late at night when they weren't interrupted by news from the front. But there was [[no forgetting the war.|war's impacts]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : war/graduation)]

They sent weekly letters at first. But slowly it dried to biweekly, then monthly, as his language became clipped and his writing shorter. $Name asked what was wrong; it was the war, he said—too busy to write, too tired. Even though she knew he, a doctor, was not in the line of fire, she watched the news with tremulous anxiety that followed her into her nightmares and caught her mind even as she forced herself to send those cheery letters week by week. The young men of the neighborhood drained away, replaced by miasmas of uncertainty. At home, there was little to do but sit, watch the mailbox, and worry. Her mother bent her back day by day outside with a spade in her Victory Garden and came in to make meals reeking of compost and sweat. The stink made her father holler, and for a long time, her mother slept in a separate bedroom. Meanwhile, $name quietly sent out job applications. When the grocer in the small town center accepted, her parents agreed for her to work with minimal fuss. Anything to get out of the tense, silent house. She tried to lose herself in blank smiles and bags and stocking produce, or else in the radio soap operas late at night when they weren't interrupted by news from the front. But there was [[no forgetting the war.|war's impacts]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : war/dropout)]

The radio crackled with anxious reports of the front, the daily broadsheets publishing shocking stories from the war, newsstands darkened with grainy photographs of smoke and fire displayed alongside gaudy comics of heroes in red undies punching Nazis. Soldiers fell as fast as the bombs that blasted the groom again and again in her nightmares. The nice neighbor boy—a pudgy, dimpled lad who'd wanted to be a mycologist—came home in a coffin. Better that than the fate of the dentist's son from down the street, who was blown into too many pieces for any coffin to carry. A galaxy of solemn stars spread in windows across the suburb. $Name slipped her meager paychecks into her piggy bank and waited quietly for the war to [[end.|changed by war]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : war's impacts)]

Her mother squints into the attic with limpid eyes. Under her crisp white apron, her ancient plaid wool dress hangs limp in the attic humidity, and the morning's makeup has settled into the creases of her face. She picks up the top photograph from $name's pile. $Name makes a grab for it. "It's nothing, ma, just—" Her mother holds it out of reach. "Really, dear, whatever will you do with //this// in your new home?" She tilts the photograph up into the light for a closer look. Her lips pinch in distaste. "Good heavens, your //dress//. And is that Carolyn Campbell? Barbara, you don't want that girl looking over your new life." Heat rushes to $name's face. "Ma—!" "You don't want it, love." Her mother tosses the picture into the garbage can with a flippant flick of her wrist. "I knew I should have supervised this little attic jaunt. Don't be a pack rat." The keepsake bin upends before the bride can snatch it out of her mother's hands. Ribbons and photographs scuttle across the dusty floor. Her mother tosses away the drawings. She gathers up the ribbons and puts them back in the attic box. "Clutter, dear. Get rid of it. A new life is starting." "Ma! Leave me be!" Her mother pauses. "What does it matter what silly awards and doodlings you did as a girl? I don't know why we even kept them." [[Protest.|plead for box]] [[Agree.|toss box]] [[Bargain.|bargain for box]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : mom judges C)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $tossBox to true)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers and steadies her breathing. "Fine. Just... fine. Toss it, then." She pushes herself to her feet. Her mother looks up at her, surprised. "Dear?" "That's what you want, right? Just throw them away." She rubs a hand down her face. "Are you alright, dear?" "I'm fine, ma. You're right. I don't need it all." She turns to lean her forehead against the small round window, away from the piles of paper and old boxes. A soft hand touches her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, darling. You're seeing sense now." $Name just sighs and looks down into the driveway. A well-polished silver car gleams below. [[The groom|groom history]] has arrived. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : toss box)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $keptBox to true)(set: $numProactive to it +1)Her mother crosses her spindly arms. "I'm just trying to help you, dear." "Please, ma. It's... sentimental." $Name clasps her hands. "What about your paintings?" The pinch in her mother's lips falters a little. "Well... what about them?" Before $name was born, her mother had been something of an artist, spending long hours in the garden with a paint set and canvas. Her paintings still hang on the walls downstairs, flowers blooming in vibrant purples and rich blues. A few old canvases lean against the far wall of the attic even now. "We wouldn't throw those away," $name says. "They're good memories. So are my photos, see?" After a moment, her mother gives a curt nod. "Fine." Her mouth turns downwards in a pout. She turns to the attic trapdoor with a righteous, wounded air. "I don't know why I bother." $Name listens to her descend the creaky ladder, then lets her breath out in a soft sigh. Slowly, she repacks the box, placing the cracked frame holding that long-ago party carefully beneath the others. From outside comes the familiar honk of a car horn. [[The groom|groom history]] has arrived. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : plead for box)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +1)(set: $bargainedBox to true)(set: $numProactive to it +1)$Name picks up the doodles. "Ma, they //matter//. To me." Her mother crosses her spindly arms. "I'm just trying to help you, dear. But I don't know why I bother." "Please, ma. It's... sentimental." She holds up a handful of the doodles. "Can you at least keep them for me?" "We don't need more clutter, either." "Please?" Her mother rubs her forehead. "Fine, Barb, if that's what you want." $Name lets her breath out in a soft sigh. Slowly, she repacks the box with the family photographs and slips the doodles and ribbons back into their attic resting place. After a moment's thought, she slips the photo of the party into her keepsakes box too, beneath the others. From outside comes the familiar honk of a car horn. [[The groom|groom history]] has arrived. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : bargain for box)]

(set: $keptBox to true)Her mother looks at the bride with hard eyes that track from her face to the small box in her hands. Her mouth flattens into a line. "That's all?" The bride cringes a little in spite of herself. Heat rises to her cheeks. That sharp, scolding voice that could make any grown woman squirm. "It's all that will fit, ma." Her mother leans down to peer into the little box. She picks up the top photo: the college party. The bride reaches for it. "That's just—I mean—" "I remember Carolyn." The bride shrinks back a little. "Oh...?" "Always thought that gal got the short end of the stick." She gives a low, hoarse chuckle and hands it back to the bride. Her shoulders loosen. "Coke. My god. They'll come up with anything around here." From outside comes the familiar honk of a car horn. Her mother's face darkens fast as a door slamming shut. Pointed silence descends in the thick attic air between them. She knows what her mother thinks of [[the groom.|groom history] 3.2.2 (took photo)

"He's outside," her mom says, breaking the silence. The ice in her voice remains. As if to punctuate her words, the horn blasts again from outside. The bride rises to her feet, dusty knees popping, and gives the teetering attic boxes a last look. Spiders and the memories she'll leave behind. The fly throws itself against the window one last time and drops to the sill. The bride stares at it for a moment, then down to the driveway through the glass. She can see his silver Dodge gleaming in the late afternoon light. By the time she turns back, her mother has already descended the attic ladder into the house below. The bride sighs and dusts off the pleated front of her skirt. Then she picks up the box of frames and follows her mother down [[into the house.|mantis nest]] 6.1 (single mother)

(if: $tossBox is true)[A honk comes from outside, and her mother looks up from scooping papers and cobwebs into the heavy garbage can. "Ever the gentleman," she says with a distant smile. "Best not keep him waiting, dear. Timeliness is a wifely virtue." $Name steps over the scattered pile of photographs and gives the attic a last look. So many spiders and memories not worth keeping in this musty room. The fly throws itself against the window one last time and drops to the sill. $Name sighs and dusts off the pleated front of her skirt, then descends the ladder [[into the house.|ma dress inquiry]]](else-if: $keptBox is true)[$Name rises to her feet, dusty knees popping, and gives the attic a last look. Spiders and memories. The fly throws itself against the window one last time and drops to the sill. She stares at it for a moment, then looks down to the driveway through the glass. Below, she can see his silver Dodge gleaming in the late afternoon light. "He's outside," her mom calls. "Best not keep him waiting, dear. Gather your... things." $Name sighs and dusts off the pleated front of her skirt. Then she picks up the box of frames and follows her mother down [[into the house.|ma dress inquiry]]] (else:)[$Name rises to her feet, dusty knees popping, and gives the attic a last look. Spiders and memories. The fly throws itself against the window one last time and drops to the sill. She stares at it for a moment, then looks down to the driveway through the glass. Below, she can see his silver Dodge gleaming in the late afternoon light. "He's outside," her mom calls. "Best not keep him waiting, dear." $Name sighs and dusts off the pleated front of her skirt, then follows her mother down [[into the house.|ma dress inquiry]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : mother likes G)]

(set: $keptBox to true)Her mother gazes down at the tiny box with limpid eyes. Her makeup has settled in the creases of her face, lipstick cracked. Under her crisp white apron, that ancient plaid wool dress hangs limp in the attic humidity, long-sleeved despite the summer heat wave. "Are you sure you need all that, dear?" Her mother leans over the keepsakes container and frowns. "What does it matter what silly awards and doodlings you did as a girl? They'll just take up room." "It's... sentimental, ma." "If he'll allow it, dear, I suppose." Her eyes drift to the middle distance, and $name knows she's thinking of [[the groom.|groom history]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : mom approves)]

(set: $graduate to true)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)Did she keep the box? (if: $mantisMother is false)[[[bargained|bargained box]]] [[kept|kept box]] [[tossed|tossed box]]

(set: $graduate to false)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)Did she keep the box? (if: $mantisMother is false)[[[bargained|bargained box]]] [[kept|kept box]] [[tossed|tossed box]]

She adjusts the buckles with a series of sharp clinks. "He's told you to leave, hasn't he." The bride's gaze slips to the floor. Of course he had—as a doctor, they wouldn't need whatever pennies she got as (if: $graduate is false)[a bag girl.](else:)["that typist girl," as the attorney put it.] No dealing with annoying customers or demanding managers. Besides, it would just be a drain on her time, which should be spent on their honeymoon, their new home, their love. She shrugs. "Of course he has," her mother mutters. She puts a heavy hand on the bride's shoulder and crouches down to eye level. "Barbara," she says. "Paid work is a precious thing. Money that is //yours.// Don't throw it away." "I'll... think about it, Ma." Her mother peers into her face for a long moment. Then she stands. "I'll see you tonight." The bride listens as the clanker of a car reverses down the driveway and pulls away.

For a while the only sound is the sponge against ceramic and the gush of the sink. "By the way, dear," her mother says, breaking her reverie.

(set: $angryMom to true)$Name drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, is flitting back and forth from fridge to cabinet, a hearty sandwich for her father's lunch on the counter—he must still be snoring in bed. At the sight of her daughter lingering on the staircase, her mother sniffs and wrinkles her nose. "Oh, I see //someone// remembered she's part of this family again." She snaps a dish towel and folds it with a ferocity $name didn't think folding could have. "Are you sure you don't want to go back to snooze and leave your dear father without a lunch and the dishes for the fruit flies? He leaves for business this afternoon, you know." "Ma..." Her mother points toward the kitchen. "Be helpful, Barb. Do the dishes." $Name sighs and heads to the sink. Her mother has been stewing—over the damned dress again, probably. Though yesterday's ordeal with the photographs probably hadn't helped. For a while, the only sound is the gush of the tap and the soup bubbling. Her mother gusts around the kitchen, nose high with righteous injury amid the steam. Finally $name speaks, tentative. "Ma, I... my stomach feels... strange." "What?" her mother snaps. "Don't be ridiculous, Barbara, it's probably just that //time// again." [[Tell mother about the change.|tell angry mother]] [[Hide the change from mother.|don't tell angry mother]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry mother)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"No, it's... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. Beneath, the furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother squints at her, then at her exposed torso. She frowns. "Well, yes, dear, you could stand to lose these //bulges."// She prods the bride's side with a slim finger. "I'll find the diet book. That cabbage soup number is supposed to work in a week, and make you look years younger, too..." $Name lets her nightshirt fall as her mother natters on about the cabbage soup. Like a sleepwalker, she turns back to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendons like quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|angry mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : tell angry mother)]

"Also," her mother says suddenly, jolting the bride out of her reverie. "What are you going to do about that job of yours?" $Name puts a plate on the drying rack. "I... I hadn't really thought about it, I suppose." Her mother presses on. "Well, surely you're not planning to keep it? You're no career girl. Just put in your notice today and focus on the wedding." $Name's gaze slips to the floor. He'd implied the same just two days ago. Besides, with a doctor in the household, they wouldn't need whatever pennies she got as (if: $graduate is false)[a bag girl.](else:)["that typist girl," as the attorney put it.] No dealing with annoying customers or demanding managers. Besides, it would just be a drain on her time, which should be spent on their honeymoon, their new home, their love. She shrugs. "You'll have to quit soon anyway, once you're pregnant. It's not worth it, Barb, it's really not. You don't need that money. He'll support you." "I'll think about it, Ma." Her mother grumbles something under her breath. $Name looks down at the dish in her hands and realizes she's been scrubbing it for the past five minutes. She makes herself a small sandwich and choses the modest dress with the checkered pattern, far below her knees, for her day. When she goes back downstairs at 8:30, her mother has cut the sandwich in half, and the other portion is nowhere to be seen. $Name puts the remainder in her handbag with a sigh. Her mother pretends not to notice as she [[steps outside.|walk to work]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry mother says quit)]

Her feet carry her to the (if: $graduate is false)[grocer's](else:)[legal firm] almost of their own accord. The weak dawn sunlight spreads across rows of white houses whose lamps are just beginning to flip on and catches in the small clouds of steam drifting up from sewer vents in the road. Soon those yards will be filled with children playing, balls bouncing, neighborly chatter. Along main street, the low rumble of sleepy morning traffic sends shivers deep into her sternum. The world is (if: $graduate is false)[[[waking.|grocery store]]](else:)[[[waking.|legal firm]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : walk to work)]

(set: $bargainedBox to true)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)[[The Whispering Furrow]

(set: $keptBox to true)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)[[The Whispering Furrow]

(set: $tossBox to true)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)[[The Whispering Furrow]

(set: $sadMom to true)$Name drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, is flitting back and forth from fridge to cabinet, a hearty sandwich for her father's lunch on the counter—he must still be snoring in bed. At the sight of her daughter lingering on the staircase, her brows pinch together slightly. "Oh, there you are, Barbara." She heaves a theatrical sigh. "What is it?" "Oh, nothing, dear. I've just been thinking about your dress." $Name bites back a groan. "We've been over this. It's too late, ma. The wedding is in two days, and my other dress is already altered, and—" "I know, I know." Her mother waves a hand through the air. $Name trails off. "I was just... thinking. Now grab me the extra coffee beans from the cellar, won't you? The Oriental brew, please. You know how your father gets without his coffee, without the right kind... he leaves for business this afternoon, you know."" $Name sighs. Not worth letting her mother guilt her further. She tiptoes to the basement and back, each creak of the floorboards whispering through her. Her mother takes the beans and directs the bride to put some vegetables in one of the Tupperwares the neighbor with the noisy papillon is always selling. Finally she speaks, tentative. "Ma, I... my stomach feels... strange." "It's probably just that //time// again, dear. Isn't that right?" [[Tell mother about the change.|tell sad mother]] [[Hide the change from mother.|don't tell sad mother]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sad mother)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"No, it's... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. Beneath, the furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother blinks at her, then at the exposed groove in her torso. "Well, you could stand to lose some weight, dear." She pokes the bride's side with a slim finger. "I'll find the diet book... and, you know, it never hurts to look young, and I look //years// younger since I tried that cabbage soup diet. It's in that bridal magazine I gave you... wash the dishes, please." $Name lets her nightshirt fall as her mother rattles on about the cabbage soup. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendons like quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|sad mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : tell sad mother)]

The rush of the tap, the drain's gurgle, the soft wet shuffle of the sponge against plates—all merge into a gentle white noise in her chest. Her mother's chatter seems far away, the groom even further. She thinks sometimes she could get used to these simple things, dirtying plates and cleaning them, dirtying floors and sweeping them. Dirty, clean, dirty clean, the grayish water sweeping down into the pipes and the clean forever replacing it. "Barbara, are you even listening to me?" The bride looks up from the plate in her hands. Her mother stands with hands on her hips. "Huh?" "Honestly, Barb, I don't know where you //go// sometimes. I //said,// what are you going to do about this little job of yours?" $Name puts the plate on the drying rack, stifling a groan. She should have known this question was coming. "I—I haven't really thought about it, I suppose." "It only makes sense, dear. It's not like you're becoming some kind of career girl. It's best you focused on the wedding." $Name's gaze slips to the floor. He'd implied the same just two days ago. Besides, with a doctor in the household, they wouldn't need whatever pennies she got as (if: $graduate is false)[a bag girl.](else:)["that typist girl," as the attorney put it.] No dealing with annoying customers or demanding managers. Besides, it would just be a drain on her time, which should be spent on their honeymoon, their new home, their love. She shrugs. "Besides, I read in the paper that work gives you wrinkles. And you'll have to quit soon anyway, once you're pregnant." She puts a thin hand on the bride's shoulder. "You know he'll support you." "I'll think about it, Ma." "Well, today would be a good day to quit, love." Her mother goes back to chopping celery, nervous energy radiating from her frail form. $Name looks down at the dish in her hands and realizes she's been scrubbing it for the past five minutes. She makes herself a small sandwich and choses the modest dress with the checkered pattern, far below her knees, for her day. "Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be, Barb," her mother says, as $name [[steps outside.|walk to work]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sad mother says quit)]

(set: $placidMom to true)$Name drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, flits back and forth from fridge to cabinet, a hearty sandwich for her father's lunch on the counter—he must still be snoring in bed. At the sight of her daughter, she waves a thin hand to beckon her over. "Oh, thank goodness, Barb, grab me the extra coffee beans from the cellar, won't you? The Oriental brew, please. You know how your father gets without his coffee, without the right kind... he leaves for business this afternoon, you know." In a haze, $name tiptoes to the basement and back, each creak of the floorboards whispering through her. Her mother takes the beans, humming some off-key tune, and directs the bride to put some vegetables in one of the Tupperwares the neighbor with the noisy papillon is always selling. Finally $name speaks, tentative. "Ma, I... my stomach feels... strange." "It's probably just that //time// again, dear. Isn't that right?" [[Tell mother about the change.|tell placid mother]] [[Hide the change from mother.|don't tell placid mother]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : placid mother)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"No, it's... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. Beneath, the furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother blinks at her, then at the exposed groove in her torso. "Well, you could stand to lose some weight, dear." She pokes $name with a slim finger. "I'll find the diet book... and, you know, it never hurts to look young, and I look //years// younger since I tried that cabbage soup diet. It's in that bridal magazine I gave you... wash the dishes, there, won't you?" $Name lets her nightshirt fall as her mother rattles on about the cabbage soup. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendons like quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|placid mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : tell placid mother)]

The rush of the tap, the drain's gurgle, the soft wet shuffle of the sponge against plates—all merge into a gentle white noise in her chest. Her mother's chatter seems far away, the wedding even further. She thinks sometimes she could get used to these simple things, dirtying plates and cleaning them, dirtying floors and sweeping them. Dirty, clean, dirty, clean—the grayish water always swept down into the pipes and forever replaced by the clear. A touch on her shoulder rouses her. "Barbara? Dear?" $Name looks up from the plate in her hands. "Huh?" "Oh, it's just... well, your father and I have been thinking, today would be a good day to tell (if: $graduate is false)[Mr. Schmitt](else:)[Mr. Kellen] you'll be leaving." "Leaving?" "For your marriage, of course. You're going to be a wife, not a career girl. It's time to focus on the wedding, and your new home..." $Name's gaze slips to the floor. He'd implied the same just two days ago. Besides, with a doctor in the household, they wouldn't need whatever pennies she got as (if: $graduate is false)[a bag girl.](else:)["that typist girl," as the attorney put it.] No dealing with annoying customers or demanding managers. Besides, it would just be a drain on her time, which should be spent on their honeymoon, their new home, their love. "...and once you have a //child// on the way, well, no woman should be working then, it's bad for the baby. And work gives you wrinkles. I read about it." She pauses to take a closer look at her daughter. "What's the matter?" $Name shrugs. "It's not a hard decision. You know he'll support you." "I... suppose I hadn't thought about it yet." "Well. I'm certain you'll make the right choice." She turns back to chopping celery. The bride looks down at the dish in her hands and realizes she's been scrubbing it for the past five minutes. She makes herself a small sandwich and choses the modest dress with the checkered pattern, far below her knees, for her day. Her mother calls goodbye from the kitchen as $name [[steps outside.|walk to work]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : placid mother says quit)]

The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, stuffs a sandwich into the stained paper bag that has served as her lunchbox for far too long. Her hair is tucked back in a tight knot at the back of her head, her gray factory jumpsuit freshly laundered, yet still bearing faint grease stains on its front. "There's a sandwich and boiled eggs in the fridge. Wash the dishes, will you? And I need you to bring home some tuna tonight, take the bills in the junk drawer." The bride barely hears her over the soft rumbles that each word carries. At her silence, her mother turns with a frown and snaps her fingers in the bride's face. "Barbara, are you even listening?" She rouses. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "Christ, Barb. Take an aspirin. You're a big girl." [[Tell mother about change.|tell cold mantis]] [[Hide change from mother.|don't tell cold mantis]]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name deflates a little. "Oh. Oh yes. That must be it." "That's perfectly natural, dear, though goodness, it had better end before, you know, the //night after..."// Her mother waves to the sink. "Wash the dishes, Barb, won't you?" $Name lets her nightshirt fall as her mother goes on humming her off-key hum. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendons like quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's tune.|placid mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't tell placid mother)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)The bride deflates a little. "Oh. Oh yes. That must be it." "Well, it had better end before, you know, the //night after."// Her mother turns back to the cutting board and decapitates a cucumber. "Don't just sit there, Barbara, grab your father's coffee from the basement. You know how he gets if it's not ready when he wakes up." Like a sleepwalker, the bride turns to the basement stairs. The creak of each floorboard whispers through her, and she lingers for a while in the stale darkness of the cellar before tiptoeing [[back upstairs.|angry mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't tell angry mother)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name deflates a little. "Oh. Oh yes. That must be it." Her mother turns back to the cutting board. "Well, don't just sit there, Barbara. Keep washing." $Name lets her nightshirt fall as her mother chops vegetables and the soup boils. Like a sleepwalker, she turns to the dishes. Each clink of silver and crystal strums along her tendons like quivers along a harp string, drowning out her [[mother's talk.|sad mother says quit]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't tell sad mother)]

The bride drifts down the stairs and sits heavily on the lowest step. Her mother, behind the kitchen counter, stuffs a sandwich into the stained paper bag that has served as her lunchbox for far too long. Her hair is tucked back in a tight knot at the back of her head, her gray factory jumpsuit freshly laundered, yet still bearing faint grease stains on its front. She gives the bride a small smile. "'Morning." "'Morning, Ma." What does she even say? "I made you a sandwich and some boiled eggs, check the fridge. I'll do dishes when I get home. I need you to pick up some tuna for dinner, too—just grab some bills outta the junk drawer. Three cans should do it." The bride barely hears her over the soft rumbles that each word carries. At her silence, her mother turns with a frown. "Barb? Is something wrong?" She rouses. "Ma, I... there's something wrong with my stomach." "There's aspirin in the bathroom, love. Want me to grab it?" [[Tell mother about change.|tell warm mantis]] [[Hide change from mother.|don't tell warm mantis]]

(set: $docileProactive to it +6)"No, I mean... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. The whisper of fabric strums through her. The furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother pauses. She walks to the stairs and kneels in front of the bride to examine the new mark. Her calloused fingers trace its outline, ever so gently. Then she stands. The ghost of a smile teases her lips. "Carry on, Barb. It's nothing to worry about." The bride's mouth opens, but she can't think of anything to say. Her mother removes her utility belt from its hook on the wall beside the door. When she turns back to face the bride, her lips are pinched again. [["One more thing."|cold mantis says keep job]]

(set: $docileProactive to it -6)The bride deflates a little. "...Yes, Ma." Her mother pauses. Her eyes glint as she traces the bride with a sharp gaze. Then, with a curt nod, she turns away. "Well. I'll see you tonight. And if that damned (if: $graduate is false)[grocer](else:)[attorney] hassles you about your hemline again just call me and I'll give him a few things to think about." The bride grates a palm against her forehead and groans. "Please don't do that." Her mother removes her utility belt from its hook on the wall beside the door. When she turns back to face the bride, her lips are pinched. [["About that,"|cold mantis says keep job]] she says, and the bride feels her stomach sink.

(set: $docileProactive to it +6)"No, I mean... it's changed." She lifts her thin nightshirt. The whisper of fabric strums through her. The furrow pulses with her breath. Her mother pauses. She walks to the stairs and kneels in front of the bride to examine the new mark. Her calloused fingers trace its outline, ever so gently. Then she stands. The bride glimpses the smile pulling on her mother's lips even as she tries to hide it in her sleeve. "Oh, Barb. Don't worry. Don't you worry." The bride's mouth opens, but she can't think of anything to say. "Just—carry on, love. Carry on." Her mother breathes out a great breath and turns to take her utility belt from its hook on the wall. But when she turns back, her face is sober again. [["One more thing, though."|warm mantis says keep job]]

(set: $docileProactive to it -6)The bride deflates a little. "...No, Ma. I'll be fine." Her mother pauses. She traces the bride with sharp, worried eyes. "You're sure?" "I'm fine." "Well. I'll see you tonight. And if that damned (if: $graduate is false)[grocer](else:)[attorney] hassles you about your hemline again just call your dear old ma and she'll give him a few things to think about." The bride chuckles, a little weakly. "Okay, Ma. I'll do that." Her mother removes her utility belt from its hook on the wall beside the door. When she turns back to face the bride, her lips are pinched. [["About that, though,"|warm mantis says keep job]] she says, and the bride feels her stomach sink.

"I know you work later today, and..." She adjusts the buckles with a series of sharp clinks. "Well, I know it might be tempting to quit." The bride's gaze slips to the floor. The groom had been urging her, of course. As a doctor, they wouldn't need whatever pennies she got as (if: $graduate is false)[a bag girl.](else:)["that typist girl," as the attorney put it.] No dealing with annoying customers or demanding managers. Besides, it would just be a drain on her time, which should be spent on their honeymoon, their new home, their love. She shrugs. Her mother puts a heavy hand on the bride's shoulder and crouches down to eye level. "Barbara," she says. "Paid work is a precious thing. Money that is //yours.// Don't throw it away." "I'll... think about it, Ma." Her mother peers into her face for a long moment. Then she stands and places a kiss on the bride's forehead. "Have a good day, love. I'll see you tonight." The bride listens as the clanker of a car reverses down the driveway and pulls away. Then she rises to dress herself for the [[day ahead.|walk to work]

With a faint feeling of surprise, she finds herself in front of the squat gray building crouched on the corner of 4th and Virginia, the dusty rose-colored sky of early morning pushing its way toward blue overhead. In the great glass display windows, banners and yellow cutouts announce the week's deals (EGGS, 19¢ a dozen! POTATOES, 25¢ for 5 pounds!). Piles of apples gleam as though waxed and polished, framed on either side by stacks of Crisco cans (ONLY 50¢ each!). $Name remembers this store when the Depression hit. As a teen, sometimes she'd use her pennies of allowance to buy a Coke. She often accompanied her mother here on errands, weathering her muttering about soup kitchen lines gumming up the sidewalk and the families dumpster diving behind the struggling store. Her father worked in the marketing department for Buffalo Trace Bourbon then. Liquor sales boomed, and food remained on their table. But $name remembers the lines, the empty shelves, the dirty streets, and neighborhood families vanishing, chasing jobs and cheaper homes. Schmitt's Grocery, against all odds, survived. When she arrives at the grocery store, the lights are still off. She circles around to the service door, dodging the morning's produce delivery boxes, and knocks. There's a rustling and some thumping, and [[Peter Schmitt]] throws the door open. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : grocery store)]

The morning bus, full of drowsy young men in rumpled suits and several yawning wives bouncing babies on their knees, carries her to the small downtown area. The grumble of the wheels and the bus's ancient engine both send little shivers into her. A few shops, a deli, a diner, a few markets, a cinema. She steps off at the corner of the main plaza, where the dull brick office with its faux Roman pillars boasts VANGUARD LAW GROUP. (set: $franFriend to 0)Franny, a woman a few years younger than the bride sporting perpetually droopy blonde curls, is already sorting mail at the front desk. She looks up when the bride comes in. "Barb!" $Name tries to slip past her, brain still foggy with the sounds of the street. "'Morning, Fran. Need to type some letters..." Franny trails her like a nervous dog. "Barb?" The bride stifles a sigh. "What is it?" "I wanted to ask you..." Franny twists her hands into the pleats of her skirt. "Has Mr. Kellen said anything to you about, well, you leaving?" [["That's between him and I."|act curt]] [["I probably won't stick around."|plans to quit]] [["I'll probably stay."|plans to stay]] [["Why do you ask?"|Fran wants advice]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : legal firm)]

A short, balding man with thick-framed glasses, and a perpetually jaunty checkered tie, he blinks up at her with the same vague expression of surprise that he's worn since he heard of her engagement. "Most girls," he confided in her once, "just stop showing up when they get hitched." "'Morning, Barbara," he says after a moment and gestures her to come in. "Lookin' rosy today, aye, rosy as ever. How are we this fine Mondy morn?" He looks at her a bit more closely. "Somethin' the matter?" She breezes past him, shaking herself out of her daze. The sound is almost normal again when she doesn't focus on the thrumming in her belly. If a bit deeper. Heavier. Like a soft and lulling static. [["I'm fine."|say she's fine]] [["My mother keeps pressuring me."|mother pressure]] [["There's something wrong with my stomach."|stomach change]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Peter Schmitt)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"Oh, it's nothing, Mr. Schmitt. I... must've just slept funny." He nods sympathetically. "Oh, well—at least that won't be your bed much longer anyhow, eh? Doctors can afford anything. Grocer's salary, well, can't afford much more than a cotton lump." He bustles back into the store with a chuckle. "Grab the broom, sweetheart, half-hour 'till open and the floor needs a cleanin'." The bride takes the broom from the wall and [[follows.|travel pining]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : say she's fine)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +1)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"It's my mother. She means well, I think. But she keeps pressuring me to take this thing, leave that thing, eat this thing... the wedding is all up in her nerves." Schmitt shrugs. "Aye, well, what's a mother's job except to worry? Giving away her little girl, after all." "It's not her damn wedding," $name says, with more ferocity than she intended. "It's //mine.// And she won't leave it alone." The grocer's face darkens, and he wags a finger at her. "If she's sayin' to leave that temper, young lady, you better listen. Now, get yourself a broom and clean the floors out front. Half hour 'till open and they're grimy as all get out." He turns on his heel and heads back into the piles of produce boxes. $Name sighs. After a moment, she shakes herself, grabs the broom, and [[follows.|travel pining]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : mother pressure)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +8)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"There's... I don't know. Something's going on with my stomach. I can hear things through it..." She puts her hands on her stomach, where she can faintly feel the outline of the furrow through her dress. "I don't know what to do." The grocer's cheeks redden slightly. He wrings his hands. "Well, um, I can't help with, you know, //lady things// much. Your fiancé, he knows health. Talk to him?" He coughs. "Anyhow it's time for work, dearie, can't hold up. Open in a half hour and the floors need a sweep. I'll just be back here..." As he bustles away, the bride sighs. Lady things indeed. After a moment, she shakes herself, grabs the broom, and [[follows.|travel pining]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : stomach change)]

(set: $romance to 0)She almost doesn't recognize the woman at the door. Her hair is dark, shoulder-length, and swept lazily back, framing high cheekbones and a sharp, angular face. The collar of her creamy shirt is popped, loose sleeves billowing, the waist tucked into tight black slacks held up by a wide leather belt. Then the woman smirks—that quirked lip, that cocky tilt of the head—and $name knows. "Hi, Barbara," [[Carolyn|what's she doing at grocery]] says. "I heard you were working." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Carolyn at the grocer!)]

The grocery opens without fanfare to a quiet Friday morning. A few housewives trailing toddlers, a mess of fallen milk cans in the back closet, a man inquiring about steak prices. At noon, $name eats her small lunch at the counter, thumbing through one of the //Holiday// travel magazines that arrived with the produce shipments. //The Air is Yours... Use It!// She flips past pictures boasting New Jersey, Maine, Missouri. Brightly colored umbrellas, a man in a kilt playing bagpipes, and an illustration of a smiling couple dining at a fanciful villa. She flips by these and pauses on a page-sized photo of a woman reclining alone on the glistening golden sand of a beach somewhere tropical, staring lazily out over a deep blue ocean. //Visit the Galapagos,// the line beneath it reads. $Name sighs, wistful. Even as a child, she'd always wanted to travel. Some days it was the far North that caught her attention, where the great auroras snaked through the sky like ethereal sheets and the snow was pure white, not the gritty gray slush stained with exhaust and gravel here. Or maybe she'd travel to Europe—Paris, Vienna, Athens. Cities with roots deep in history, marble columns and Gothic churches from bygone ages. When she was younger, she assumed this sprawling trip would be her honeymoon. But the groom would rather go to Boston. The door jangles, yanking $name out of her tropical dreams. In a flustered flurry, she dogears the page, drops the magazine into her bag, and looks up to greet [[the customer.|Carolyn at the grocer!]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : travel pining)]

(set: $romance to it +3)"It //has// been a while," $name admits. "I haven't seen you since college." "I had to get out of here," Carolyn says. "This place has it out for me. Saved for a car, and—" She slaps her palms together with a loud smack. "Bam. I was gone." The clap shoots through $name like an electric jolt. She grips the edge of the (if: $graduate is false)[counter](else:)[bench]. Carolyn breathes a (if: $graduate is false)[minty](else:)[strawberry] sigh, distant. "Didn't get much chance to say adieu. I remember us, Barb, and I—well, it didn't feel good, leaving like that. Just felt worse to return to this dump. Honest, I missed you." [["I missed you too."|missed her too]] [["No, you didn't."|skeptic]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : tentatively warm)]

$Name stands from her stool behind the register as Carolyn saunters over to the checkout desk. She leans her elbows on the counter and flips through the selection of chewing gum beside the register with breezy nonchalance. "Spearmint," she says, then slides a few cents across the counter. "Carolyn," $name says at last, taking the coins, "what are you doing here?" "I was passing through. Staying at the Motocar, by the highway." Carolyn pops a piece of gum into her mouth. "Can't a girl just visit a friend in this town?" [["We're not friends."|hostile]] [["Where have you been?"|curious]] [["It's good to see you."|tentatively warm]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : what's she doing at grocery)] (set: $rude to 0)

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $rude to it +1)"If you're looking for a friend," $name says stiffly, "she's not here." Carolyn grins. "That's a different tune than you were singing last I saw you." "That was //years// ago." The sight of Carolyn's face, the photograph in the attic: the memories press close to her again. Late nights on the couch, passing out in each other's apartments. Bodies twisting together at the all-girl dance parties the sororities sometimes threw. Sweat and arms and—and drunken antics she'd prefer not to think about. "I barely remember." "And I'm a monkey's uncle." "I heard you were in jail," $name shoots back. The other woman throws her head back and laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, Barb, you're cute. Been listening to the old biddies at Lucky's, eh? Those bats need new gossip if they're still up on my case." $Name feels a frustrated heat seep into her cheeks. "Well, if gossip's a crime, guilty as charged," Carolyn says, sinking back down with a chuckle. She props an elbow on the (if: $graduate is false)[counter](else:)[arm of the bench] and puts her cheek in her hand, a worrisome glint in her eye. "Little birds get the facts right sometimes. I hear you're engaged to that pretty-boy premed." [["None of your business."|hostile 2]] [["He's lovely."|defensive]] [["It hasn't been perfect."|admit doubt]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : hostile)]

Carolyn shrugs. "All over. Arizona, Washington, Maryland, it's easy to get around on your own. All you need's a car and a bit of elbow grease. Odd jobs, waitressing, it pays enough. Life's too short to stay in one place. And," she says, with a strange tilt of her head, a flash of her eyes, "it's an interesting time we're living in. Very interesting." [["What do you mean?"|changes?]] [["Then why are you back?"|curious 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : curious)]

(set: $romance to it +1)"Yes, but..." "But?" "It's been a bit... rocky. At times." Carolyn points at the polished gold ring on the bride's finger. "Y'know, some folks call it a shackle." "No, that's not it, I mean..." (if: $graduate is false)[$Name takes out a cleaning cloth and wipes the counter to avoid meeting Carolyn's eyes.](else:)[(if: $milkshake is true)[$Name takes a large spoonful of chocolate milkshake and lets it melt down her tongue. After a moment, she speaks again.](else:)[$Name traces one of the chalk planets with the tip of her toe, blurring its edges slightly.]] "He was a doctor in the war, and, well... he's still recovering. It's not his fault." Carolyn gives her a rueful smile. "Engagement's not all the magazines crack it up to be, eh?" "He's still sweet on me. Marriage will be good for him. For us." (if: $graduate is false)[She tosses the cleaning cloth back in its bucket and faces the other woman again.](else:)[She looks at the other woman again.] "Look, Carolyn, I don't need counseling. What do you want?" "I want to catch up. I already said that." A strange glint comes to her eyes. "I've been traveling the country. I've seen changes... these are interesting times we're living in. I've got so much to tell you." She stands(if: $graduate is false)[, slips the gum into her pocket,] and gives $name a sharp look. "Come find me." (if: $graduate is false)[Carolyn slips [[out of the grocery store|confused at C]] with a wink, a wave, and a bottle of Coke she certainly did not pay for.](else:)[She turns and walks away down the street at a brisk clip. At the end of the block, she waves, then [[disappears|confused at C]] around the corner.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : admit doubt)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $DPtotal to it +1)"Yes, and we're doing just fine," the bride snaps. "He's lovely, he's gotten us a house already, the wedding is in a week, and we don't need someone stirring up trouble. So your little bird was correct. Congratulations." Carolyn chuckles, unperturbed. "Good. I thought it might be." "So what do you want? Just fact-checking, is that it?" "No." Carolyn leans toward her across the (if: $graduate is false)[counter, smelling of spearmint](else:)[bench, smelling of strawberry] and sweat. "I'd like to chat, Barb. I've been traveling around the country. Seen some things. And you have this //lovely, perfect// fiancé. I want to hear //all// about it." [["I don't want to see you."|reject]] [["Seen what things, exactly?"|changes?]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defensive)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $rude to it +1)"What's it to you?" $Name snaps. "Or did the //birdies// get the homewrecking part right?" Carolyn rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. Like I'd want that brick. I just came to catch up, really. You've been stuck here, and I've been on the road." She drums polished fingernails on the (if: $graduate is false)[countertop](else:)[bench's arm], sending sparks of sound that quiver along the furrow hidden beneath $name's dress. "And I thought you'd be curious. Things are changing out there. In ways I've never seen. That's what's brought me back here, Barb." [["What sort of changes?"|changes?]] [["I don't want to see you."|reject]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : hostile 2)]

"A little birdy told me you're engaged," she says. "To that pretty-boy premed." "What does that have to do with anything?" "Well, you are, aren't you? I'd like to hear about it." [["It's been great."|defensive]] [["It hasn't been perfect."|admit doubt]] [["That's none of your business."|hostile 2]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : curious 2)]

"Well," she says, and that same smirk steals its way back across her lips, "that's the question, isn't it?" She stands(if: $graduate is false)[and slips the gum into her pocket]. "(if: $graduate is false)[(if: (history:) contains "hostile 2")[I hoped I'd find you a bit more... open." She shrugs. "Thanks for the gum, anyway."](else:)[Come find me, Barb.]](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "hostile 2")[I hoped I'd find you a bit more... open." She shrugs. "Ah well. See ya, Barbara."](else:)[Come find me, Barb. Motocar Motel.]]" (if: $graduate is false)[(if: (history:) contains "hostile 2")[Carolyn slips [[out of the grocery store.|annoyed at C]] Too late, $name notices the bottle of Coke in her hand—one she certainly did not pay for.](else:)[Carolyn slips [[out of the grocery store|confused at C]] with a wink, a wave, and a bottle of Coke she certainly did not pay for.]](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "hostile 2")[$Name watches until Carolyn [[disappears|annoyed at C]] around the corner.](else:)[Carolyn spins on her heel and walks off down the street at a brisk clip. At the end of the block, Carolyn waves, then [[disappears|confused at C]] around the corner.]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : changes?)]

(set: $romance to it -3)"Missed me?" $Name grimaces. "Please. If you missed me, it wouldn't have taken you //years// to say so." Carolyn sighs. "Barb, you don't understand how bad this hellhole was for me. I had to split. There was nothing for it. I'm not proud of that." "You don't need to sweet-talk me, Carolyn." $Name presses a hand to her forehead to stifle a painful pressure that she hopes isn't the beginning of a headache. "Just tell me what you want from me. Out with it." "I want to catch up." She laces her fingers together under her chin. A strange, sharp glint comes to her eyes. "I've been traveling the country. I've seen changes... these are interesting times we're living in. I've got so much to tell you." [["What are you talking about?"|changes?]] [["I don't want to see you."|reject]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : skeptic)]

(set: $romance to it +5)$Name looks away. "It was strange," she says, "not having you here." She feels a warm hand squeeze her shoulder. "If I'd had it my way," Carolyn says, "we might have gone together. Quit this dump for good. Greener pastures." [["Would've been nice."|wants to go with her]] [["I couldn't have just left like that."|couldn't have left]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : missed her too)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $reject to true)(set: $rude to it +1)(if: $graduate is true)[The bride groans. "Just take your gum and leave." Carolyn pulls herself up with a shrug. She drops the gum in her pocket.](else:)[The bride groans. She gets to her feet. "I don't know why I bothered talking to you. I'm done." Carolyn shrugs. "You're free to go." She takes a final slurp of her milkshake and tosses it past $name into the city trashcan next to the bench.] "I see the biddies are turning you into an old maid already." (if: $graduate is false)["Get out of here, Carolyn." The door jangles shut behind her. $Name reaches for the empty gum wrapper on the countertop with a [[heavy huff.|annoyed at C]]](else:)[$Name spins on her heel and stalks away.] (if: $graduate is true)[When she glances back, the bench is [[empty|annoyed at C]] (if: $milkshake is false)[but for the chocolate milkshake Carolyn bought her].] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reject)]

(set: $romance to it +3)(set: $warm to true)"Yeah," $name says, and for a moment she can picture the two of them, hair in the wind on some long highway, laughing wide and open like they used to. She imagines desert air rushing past, or perhaps great mountains looming with snowcapped peaks, or chilly oceans that spread to the curve of the horizon and beyond. There would be other dances, other houses, other couches to collapse on, all with the uncertainty of the future like a great abyss that stretches below them, where falling could be the same as flying. "Yeah. Maybe." The hand on her shoulder loosens as the other woman pulls back. $Name blinks her thoughts away. "Ah well. It doesn't matter now," Carolyn says. "There are more interesting things afoot. I hear you're happily engaged to that premed beau of yours." [["It hasn't been perfect."|admit doubt]] [["What interesting things?"|changes?]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : wants to go with her)]

(set: $romance to it -2)$Name shakes her head. "It's not a dump, Carolyn. And it wouldn't have worked anyway. My parents are here, my fiancé is here, my life is here. I can't just leave, not knowing where I'd sleep, or eat, or..." Carolyn shrugs and pulls back. "It ain't a cloistered life. That's what's fun. Maybe you wouldn't've made it through anyhow." She gives a toothy grin. "Whatever. There are more interesting things afoot. A little birdy told me you're engaged to that premed beau of yours." [["It's been great."|defensive]] [["It hasn't been perfect."|admit doubt]] [["That's none of your business."|hostile 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : couldn't have left)]

(set: $paper to true)The stares at the address for a long moment, then folds the paper and slips it into her handbag. It wouldn't hurt to keep it, anyway, and if Carolyn really has turned as wild as the old gossips of the town claim, well... nothing is forcing her to go to the motel. Yet the twisty gnawing in her stomach won't go away as she (if: $graduate is false)[[[turns back to work.|grocer surprised](else:)[looks down the bustling street, [toward home. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Keep the paper.)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $paper to false)(set: $warm to false)(if: $graduate is false)[The bride drops the paper hard into the trash can at her feet. It flutters, flips, and finally lands on a pile of discarded receipts. She crushes it further into the trash with a foot.](else:)[The bride crumples the slip and throws it into a city trash can. It flutters, flips, and finally lands on a pile of mushy, rotten food. Grease soaks the ink.] Why did Carolyn need to come back //now,// the week of her wedding, with a flimsy story about "catching up" and "changes"? No. She wanted something. She wanted //trouble.// Best that this paper and Carolyn herself both stay out of her life. She (if: $graduate is false)[turns back to work.|grocer surprised]]](else-if: (history:) contains "talk to C")[climbs slowly back to her feet.|head home]]](else:)[sets her eyes on home.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Throw the paper away.)]

A rustle and a clink come from the entrance to the grocery's back storage room. A moment later Schmitt pokes his head through the swinging doors and sidles up to the register. "That was Carolyn Campbell, wun't it?" "Yes..." He pulls off his glasses and rubs the lenses on his shirt in small, frenetic swipes. "The hell's she doin' back here? Thought she split years ago." "She did. She... says she wants to catch up." "I was listenin'." The grocer sits heavily on the stool behind the counter. "Girl sounds right looney, talkin' about some kinda changes, talkin' you in circles...(if: $reject is true)[You told 'er off right and square. I don't need her slippery fingers in this store.](else-if: $warm is true)[You oughta watch yourself around that one. She's got her eyes set on you, and you'd be best to tell her off right clear.]" [["That's a bit harsh."|defend C]] [["I hope I never see her again."|trash C]] [["What do you know about her?"|ask about C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : grocer surprised)]

(set: $romance to it +3)"I don't know." $Name leans back against the wall and looks up toward where the ceiling fan blows dusty circles in the humid air, not really seeing it. "People talk like she's the worst thing to happen to this town, but... well, I don't think they know a real thing about her. It's just drama." The grocer watches her with heavy eyes. "Rumors got to start somewhere, Barb. You can't let 'er get close enough to find out which are true." $Name just sighs. "Maybe she //does// just want to chat. Nothing more." "I dunno, Barb." He takes off his glasses and puts them on the counter, rubbing his nose. "You ain't thinking clear. I unnerstand you two used to be close." [["Yes..."|agree C was close]] [["Not anymore."|deny C relation]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend C)]

(set: $romance to it -4)"Looney isn't half of it." The bride glares toward the door of the shop. "I don't like it. She must want something." "Atta girl. You gotta see through her. The sooner she leaves town, the better." Schmitt nods and pops the glasses back on his face. "She's tryin' to pull you back in. Make you a radical delinquent or sommat too. I r'member you two used to be close, eh?" [["Yes..."|agree C was close]] [["Not anymore."|deny C relation]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : trash C)]

(set: $arrestKnowledge to true)Schmitt puts the glasses back on his face and rubs his nose. "A bit more than she let you on to... she's bein' cagey, but I have a cousin in Fresno an' I hear she blew through there causin' chaos. Drank like a mule, dressed down some poor man in his own bar, an' poisoned his girl against him. There oughta be a law against that. Personal slander or sommat." "Is that true?" "Well... tha's what I heard." He scratches the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "The folks here talk, y'know. I ain't one to gossip, but my wife, she hears things from the ladies downtown. Some of them are just silly-like. Carolyn's got a husband in every state she been to and all that. But rumors gotta start somewhere." He cracks an eye to look at the bride. "I unnerstand you two used to be close." [["Yes..."|agree C was close]] [["Not anymore."|deny C relation]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about C)]

(set: $romance to it +2)She closes her eyes, head resting against the wall behind her. "In college, yes. We... had fun together. Dancing. You know." More than dancing, a few times. "I didn't have many other friends then." "Dancin's dangerous. Invites poor judgment." Schmitt shakes his head. "Best stick to the nice ladies in that Bible study of yours. Some of them are gettin' married soon too. Or married already. Y'know Nancy Wester? Might ask her 'bout your big day." "Right." "I donno why Carolyn's back, Barb, but it gotta be somethin' with you and your special man. And you know how folks in this town talk," Schmitt says. "You don' want t' be caught up in that. You're a good girl, Barb. Don't want anyone gettin' the wrong idea." She twists her ring back and forth on her finger. "And speaking of," the grocer adds, "ain't it time for you to be focused on the wedding now? It don't make sense to keep workin' here, not when you're gonna be a wife." $Name sighs and looks away. She should've known this was coming. [["I need some vacation time."|ask for grocery vaycay]] [["I think it's time I left."|quit grocery job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : agree C was close)]

(set: $romance to it -3)He lets out a sigh of relief. "Aye. Good." There's a small silence, the whir of the ceiling fan overhead the only sound. "You know how folks in this town talk," Schmitt adds. "You don' want t' be caught up in that. You're a good girl, Barb. Don't want anyone gettin' the wrong idea." He waves a hand to the engagement ring on her finger. "'Specially so close t' your special day. I donno why she's back. But it gotta be because of that." Her hand floats to the ring. She twists it back and forth on her finger. "Yeah..." "And speaking of," the grocer says, "ain't it time for you to be focused on the wedding now? It don't make sense to keep workin' here, not when you're gonna be a wife." $Name sighs and looks away. She should've known this was coming. [["I'd like some vacation time."|ask for grocery vaycay]] [["I think it's time I left."|quit grocery job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : deny C relation)]

Schmitt's heavy eyebrows furrow. "Well, Barb, I meant more like—" "Mr. Schmitt, I don't plan on //leaving.// I just need some time to get settled. That's all." "But once you're, y'know, with child—" "I'm not with child yet." He shakes his head slowly. "It ain't right, Barbara, it just ain't. Your fiancé, how's he gonna feel about all this? It's a man's pride, y'know, to take care of his family." She looks out the window again. The sun gleams on cars passing on the street. She can imagine her mother as a young bride too, from grainy pictures of her in that ancient wedding dress. She'd never worked. When marriage came, she spent her days at home, dusting and sweeping, poring over fertility magazines and hosting garden parties. She'd even been an amateur artist; her delicate paintings of flowers still grace their mantle. $Name's birth, and the baby chaos that followed, ended that. But beforehand, there'd been nothing but time and sun. Does $name really want to spend that time in Schmitt's grocery? [[Keep the job.|keep grocery job]] [[Quit the job.|quit grocery job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask for grocery vaycay)]

(set: $quit to true)(set: $docileProactive to it -7)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"Well, I suppose you're right." "Perfect, Barb, jus' perfect. Today'll be your last, then." Schmitt's round face breaks into a smile, and he mops his brow with something like relief. "Congratulations, dearie, I really mean it." "Thanks, Mr. Schmitt." "Your fiancé will be jus' thrilled. I was talkin' to him a few days ago, and he was worried, y'know, that you're stressing yourself with all this scamperin' around a store. An' you know how he dotes on you. That's a hubby's greatest joy, spoilin' the family. I bring the missus flowers every weekend." A smile tugs at her lips. She can imagine a new home, large windows with light streaming through them. Art to hang and beds to make, recipes to perfect, and time all her own while the groom worked. And a fresh bouquet on the table, of course. Maybe she'll take up painting like her mother did then. She'll paint landscapes. Schmitt whistles as he returns the back room, and the bride turns to face the [[rest of the day|grocery afternoon]]—finally, her last. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : quit grocery job)]

(set: $quit to false)(set: $docileProactive to it +7)(set: $numProactive to it +1)And yet her mother couldn't have bought those paints for herself, or the canvas for herself, or even the recipe books for herself. No, it was never //her// money, always her husband's, and his hand was always the arbiter of the checkbooks. "If you make me quit," she says, "I'll just find other work." He looks taken aback. "But Barb, you don't need it." "I //want// it." He takes off his glasses again and polishes them nervously on his shirt. "I was talkin' to your poor fiancé a few days ago, and he was worried, y'know, that you're stressing yourself with all this scamperin' around a store. Says it's job for teens, not wives. I—I told him I'd mention it to you, but I reckoned you'd decide—" With a concerted effort, she softens her voice. "Look, Mr. Schmitt, working for the grocery has been lovely. I'll need something to do with my time after we honeymoon." "Your fiancé—" "I'll talk to him. Please, I'd love to stay." Schmitt sighs and puts the glasses back on his face, slightly askew on the bridge of his nose. "Arright, arright. I'll take you back after th' honeymoon. If you still wanna work then." A wave of relief washes over her. "You're the best, Mr. Schmitt." He nods, then trundles back to the storage area, mumbling to himself. $Name turns back to the counter and allows herself a real smile for what feels like the first time [[all day.|grocery afternoon]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : keep grocery job)]

(set: $franFriend to it -3)Fran deflates a little. "Oh! Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." "It's fine, Fran." The attorney hadn't mentioned a meeting, but the way he greets her every day, with affected surprise that she's still here, tells her his opinion quite clearly. She turns to organize the letters on her desk, but Franny lingers. "I just ask because he told me yesterday he wants to meet with you—" She pauses. "Ah." "—and, well, I'm—I'm worried he's going to fire you." $Name frowns at the stack of paper, staring at the shorthand scribbling on the top without really seeing it. She should've known it wouldn't just remain pointed coughs and sidelong comments. "I see." "And I don't want him to fire you," Fran adds. "Or—or that you'll quit." She fixes the other woman with a sharp stare. "Whether I quit or not," she says, "is not your business." Franny reddens. "Right, right. Of course. Sorry, Barb." As she bustles back to the front desk, bunching and smoothing her skirt fabric in her hands, $name sinks into her chair and slumps on her elbows against the desk. If it's come to a meeting, she'd have to decide [[one way or another.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : act curt)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"Well... no. But I'll have to go sooner or later, Fran. I'm getting married, after all." And Mr. Kellen's pointed coughs tell her all she needs to know of his opinion on it. Franny's face falls. "Oh. I—I see. That makes sense." She looks away from the bride and scratches the back of her head. "Because he told me yesterday that he wants to meet with you." "Ah." Of course. It was bound to happen. She can't delay her decision forever. "Thanks for telling me." "Is he gonna fire you? Are you gonna quit?" "We'll see, Franny. But probably." She sets her purse on her desk and starts arranging her materials, but Fran still lingers, twisting her skirt fabric like a nervous schoolgirl. "Was there [[something else you needed,|Fran wants advice]] Fran?" The bride can't stop a trace of annoyance from slipping into her tone. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : plans to quit)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $numProactive to it +1)$Name laughs. "I'm not planning on going anywhere, Fran. I might just take some time off, that's all." Franny looks at her with wide blue eyes. "What if he fires you?" "Where is he going to find another college-certified typist?" "Well, I don't know, but..." Her carefully trimmed brows pinch together. "He told me yesterday that he wants to meet with you." She pauses. "He didn't say why?" Fran shakes her head. "That's why I asked you. I wanted to know if, well, you were gonna..." "We'll see, Franny." $Name pushes down the knot in her stomach. "We'll see." She sets her purse on her desk and starts arranging her materials, but Fran still lingers, twisting her skirt fabric like a nervous schoolgirl. "Was there [[something else you needed,|Fran wants advice]] Fran?" She can't stop a trace of annoyance from slipping into her tone. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : plans to stay)]

(set: $franFriend to it +2)Franny glances around, as though worried one of the partners is hiding behind the plastic plant in the corner. "It's my boyfriend," she whispers. "He might propose." (if: $docileProactive is > 0)[[["You sound worried."|notice worry]] [["Congratulations!"|celebrate]]](else:)[[["That's wonderful!"|(too docile)]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Fran wants advice)]

(set: $franFriend to it +1)"Fran, that's lovely!" $Name smiles at her. "I didn't realize you two were going steady." "Oh, it's—it's not been for long. A month or so." Fran stares down at $name's letters. "Well, long enough, he says. He really loves me and all..." Franny falls quiet and fidgets in the silence. With a touch of exasperation, $name says, "It's great news, Fran, but why are you telling me? Did you want me to speak to Mr. Kellen for you?" "No, no!" Franny waves her hands. She slumps. "No, don't do that." She bites her lip as though on the verge of speaking, then looks away and sighs. "What's it like, being engaged?" [["Wonderful."|positive to engagement]] [["Fine."|neutral to engagement]] [["Difficult."|negative to engagement]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : celebrate)]

(set: $franFriend to it +4)Franny drops her eyes to the floor. "That's the thing. I—I don't want to quit, Barb, and I'm not sure I'm ready to get engaged." She leans against the side of the bride's desk and picks at something on her arm. "I want to make secretary someday." "You'd do well at it." "I want to get married. I really do. But I don't think Tommy would want me to be busy here..." Her nails dig into her arm deep enough to leave little half-moons in her skin. "What do I say? What do I say if he asks me?" [["Marriage is more important."|advise marriage]] [["Don't compromise your dreams."|advise work]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : notice worry)]

(set: $franFriend to it -2)"Oh, Fran, that's lovely!" $Name smiles at her. "I didn't realize you two were going steady." "Well, it's not been for long—" "Love can be quick," the bride says. "You'll make a great wife, I'm certain." Franny looks taken aback. She drops the skirt from her hands. "Oh—oh yes. I'm sure I will." She bustles back to her desk, eyes on the floor. $Name sinks down into her chair [[at last.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : (too docile))]

$Name has just finished sorting through the stacks of shorthand for transcription when the office's front door jingles, and she hears Franny peep out a greeting in a high, cheerful voice. A moment later Mr. Kellen steps into the back office. An elderly man with patchy gray hair and heavy jowls, she's always thought he has the distinct countenance of a surly bulldog. "'Morning, Mr. K," $name says, fixing her eyes on her typewriter. "Good morning, Barbara," he says, fixing her with a probing eye. "I want to see you in my office. It's about time we discussed your... situation." Despite Fran's forewarning, $name's fingers clench around her pencil all the same. "Of course, sir." He lingers a moment, as though expecting a further reaction, then grunts and heads to [[his office|meeting]] when she offers none. "Come on, then." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : John Kellen)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $franFriend to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name shrugs. "If you can be both a working woman and a wife, more power to you. But, Fran, marriage and family are what's really important. You can't lose sight of that." "Right." Her shoulders slump a bit. "Thanks, Barb." "Sure," the bride says, but Franny has already bustled back to the front desk. With a bemused shake of her head, the bride returns [[to work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : advise marriage)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $franFriend to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)$Name turns fully to face Franny. "Look. The bridal magazines might be right that marriage is happy and wonderful and you'll never want to return to work as soon as he sweeps you off your feet. But for my money?" She sits down heavily in her chair. "What's most important to //you// won't change with a ring. If that means, work, then work." The other woman blinks. "Even if he says, you know, that I shouldn't?" "I don't know your boy, Fran. But make sure he's the one." Franny nods slowly. "I will, Barb. I... thank you. Thanks. Sorry to bother you." "No bother." Yet as Franny hurries back to the front desk, a new spring in her step, $name finds it difficult to put the conversation out of her mind and return to [[her work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : advise work)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriendt to it +2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"It's a dream." The bride looks sidelong out the dusty office window. The rising sun has just crested the buildings across the way, glowing down into the square below. It's going to be a lovely day. Maybe the groom, when he picks her up in the afternoon, will take her out for a soda at the small local diner, or they can drive out to the green expanse of the park a short way out of town, overlooking the pond she thought was a lake when she was young. A smile steals its way across her face. "We're going to build a whole life of our own. It's exciting, you know?" Franny listens with the intensity of a dog waiting for table scraps. "Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, it would be." She's silent for a long moment, following the bride's gaze out the window into the sleepy plaza. "Well. Thanks, Barb." "Sure," $name says, but Franny has already bustled back to the front desk. With a bemused shake of her head, the bride returns [[to work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : positive to engagement)]

(set: $franFriend to it -3)"It's fine." The bride shrugs. "Plenty of girls would give their arms to be in our place." "My oldest sister's a spinster." Franny chews her lip. "At least, that's what my pa likes to say." "Girls like your sister, then." The other woman glances down at the bride's hand, where the engagement ring glistens on her finger. "Is it—frightening?" "It is what it is." The bride pulls out a handful of pencils and lays them in a line on her desk, giving Franny a pointed look. "Is that all you wanted, Franny? I'm happy for you, I really am. But I need to get to work while I'm still here." "Oh—oh, no. That was it. Thanks, Barb." As Franny bustles back to her desk, the bride shakes her head and tries to drag her focus back to the sheaves of paper on the desk in front of her. Fran's problems are her own. For her, it's time [[to work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : neutral to engagement)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $franFriend to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)$Name sinks into her chair with a sigh. "Honestly, it's not always as rosy as everyone makes it out to be." "How do you mean?" $Name looks out the window, where the rising sun has just crested the buildings on the far side of the plaza. "We don't always agree. He wants things I don't, I want things he doesn't... he can be an intense man, Franny. I don't think he realizes sometimes how that feels for me." Franny watches her with the intensity of a dog hoping for table scraps. "Are you scared? About the wedding?" [["Yes."|scared]] [["No."|not scared]] [["I don't know."|doesn't know if scared]] (Node : negative to engagement)

Franny outcome: based on whether you advise her to keep her job or leave. Scene later of her packing up and leaving?

(set: $franFriend to it +3)"I am, I suppose." $Name shifts her hand in front of the window, watching the little gold band blink and shimmer in the morning light. "It's so big, Fran. I don't know what to expect. The bridal magazines, they say it all just clicks." She twists the ring around her finger, back and forth. "But they were wrong about how I'd feel about engagement, too. I don't know your boy, Fran. But make sure he's the one." Franny nods slowly. "I will, Barb. I... thank you. Thanks. Sorry to bother you." "No bother." Yet as Franny hurries back to the front desk, a new spring in her step, $name finds it difficult to put the conversation out of her mind and return to [[her work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : scared)]

(set: $franFriend to it +2)$Name chuckles. "Of course not. He's still my fiancé. It's just... it's a lot." She shifts her hand to watch the engagement ring glimmer in the morning light. "So much planning, negotiating, disagreeing... it's enough to stress anyone out. It's just nerves, I think." "Right." Franny nods slowly. Her eyes dart to the ring, then back to her own desk. "Thanks for—for talking to me, Barb." "No problem." Yet as Franny bustles back to the front desk, $name finds it difficult to put the conversation out of her mind and return to [[her work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : not scared)]

(set: $franFriend to it +2)$Name closes her eyes. One hand drifts to the engagement ring on her finger. The gold is warm from the heat of her body. "I don't know, Fran," she says. "I don't know." She doesn't like the hard, heavy lump that lodges itself behind her collarbones as she says it. A shiver passes through her abdomen in the long silence that follows. Franny clears her throat. "Oh, um. Well, thanks, Barb. I—I hope it works out." "Yeah." She hears footsteps retreat as Franny hurries back to the front desk. She opens her eyes and looks down at the stacks of paper piled on the desk in front of her. Somehow, they feel far away, distant. With a sigh, she sits up and tries to force her mind back to [[her work.|John Kellen]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : doesn't know if scared)]

She keeps her eye on the door for the remainder of the afternoon, but Carolyn doesn't reappear, only neighbors on shopping errands who chatter to her about their blooming gardens and tonight's meal. She smiles and nods and watches the clock tick toward 5. When she finally gathers her things and clocks out, (if: $quit is true)[Schmitt gives her a free chocolate bar as a farewell. He waves from the doorway as she makes her way back down the street toward home.|ch end](else:)[Schmitt stops her by the door. "You could still call it, Barb," he says. "You don' haveta come back." "My mind's made up, I'm afraid. I'll be back." The grocer shakes his head. "Stubborn," he mumbles. "Well... you go an' have a good weddin'. You're a good gal with a good man." "Thanks, Mr. Schmitt." He gives a little wave as she makes her way back down the street toward home.] On the steps outside the house, she takes a breath to steady her shivering stomach, then pushes open [[the door.|tell ma quit/kept]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : grocery afternoon)]

$Name can feel Franny peering at her from around the doorway as she sweeps her papers into a pile and picks up her top-bound notebook. A small, desperate part of her hopes it's just a transcription issue, a typo on her last letter, an arrangement for a new typewriter, maybe. But it's a futile hope, as the look Kellen gives her as she steps into his office confirms. "Close the door, if you will." She does, then sits across from him. For a moment the only sound is the jarring tick of each second on the wall clock. "Frankly," the attorney says, "I'm surprised you've stuck around this long, Barbara. It's the week of your wedding, I'm told, and you've decided to remain at the office. I would have thought you, of all people, would show more dedication to preparation." Behind her notebook, $name spins a pencil through her fingers. "I'm not sure I understand, Mr. Kellen." He leans back in his chair and surveys her the way he does clients who don't pay their bills. "You've always been a diligent worker, and that's a good trait in a wife. But the fact that you have not paid the same attention to the biggest day of your life concerns me." [["That's between my fiancé and I."|not his business]] [["I can manage it."|balancing act]] [["It //has// been difficult..."|agree difficulty]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : meeting)]

"With all due respect, sir," $name says, "that's the business of myself and my fiancé." "Your fiancé, yes." Kellen spins his chair to stare absently out the window. "A very bright young man. It's a shame he didn't go into law. He will provide for you nicely, Barbara, I have no doubt." The attorney drums his fingers on his stomach. "I gather," he adds, with a warm smile, "that he would also not be keen on the distraction secretarial work would stir up in a young wife. And so we come to the matter of your departure." [["I just need vacation time."|ask for typist vaycay]] [["I think it's time for me to quit."|quit typist job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : not his business)]

"I've managed quite nicely," $name says. "It's no sacrifice of my personal life to assist at your office." He shakes his head. "I'm sure you think so. But even if that's the case, Barbara, even if you're the most perfect of planners, it's still the //principle// of it that's incorrect. You have new priorities now that you're engaged, and it's just not //right// to avoid them." Frustrated tightness squeezes her voice. "I'm not avoiding." "Any distraction," he says, smiling warmly, "is avoidance. And so we come to the matter of your departure." [["I just need vacation time."|ask for typist vaycay]] [["I think it's time for me to quit."|quit typist job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : balancing act)]

$Name stills the pencil in her fingers. "I suppose. Planning has been difficult when I have to split my time..." He nods sagely. "As I imagined. Look, Barbara, I think it's time you focused on the more important parts of nuptial life and duties. It's no life to leave your nest unkempt to go gain a few extra dollars. Your husband is an industrious young man. He will provide for you, I have no doubt." She looks away. It's true. Even now, his doctor's salary would be more than enough to support their married life. "And so," he says, smiling warmly, "we come to the matter of your departure." [["I just need vacation time."|ask for typist vaycay]] [["I think it's time for me to quit."|quit typist job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : agree difficulty)]

(set: $quit to true)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"I think you're right, Mr. K," the bride says after a moment. "It's been nice, but... well, it's not work I'll need once I'm married." "I knew you'd see sense. You're a smart girl." Kellen favors her with a satisfied nod and sits up straight in his seat. "I've already made plans for your departure. Finish up your work, and then I don't want to see you set foot in this office again, Barbara Williams." Some part of her relaxes. The choice is made, and ahead there are only dresses to negotiate, vows to give, and nothing but sun. She can imagine a new home, large windows with light streaming through them. Art to hang and beds to make, recipes to perfect, and time all her own while the groom worked. And a fresh bouquet on the table, of course. Maybe she'll take up painting like her mother did then. She'll paint landscapes. "Thanks, Mr. K." "Go now, Barbara. Congratulations." He waves her [[out of his office,|Franny eavesdropping]] smiling. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : quit typist job)]

His smile slips. "You misunderstand me." He pinches the bridge of his nose between two fingers and lets out a hoarse sigh. "I know how you've enjoyed playing at career girl. But there simply isn't a place for a wife in the workplace. And once you have a baby on the way, it'll be all the same." "I'm not pregnant yet, Mr. K." "What difference is an extra month of wages? Come now, Barbara, you're smarter than this. It will only be trouble." $Name looks out the window. The sun gleams on cars passing on the street. She can imagine her mother as a young bride too, from grainy pictures of her in that ancient wedding dress. She'd never worked. When marriage came, she spent her days at home, dusting and sweeping, poring over fertility magazines and hosting garden parties. She'd even been an amateur artist; her delicate paintings of flowers still grace their mantle. $Name's birth, and the baby chaos that followed, ended that. But beforehand, there'd been nothing but time and sun. The gray walls of the office, the endless letters to type up, her sore wrist after each meeting of frantic shorthand. Was this really how she wished to spend her time? [[Keep the job.|keep typist job]] [[Quit the job.|quit typist job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask for typist vaycay)]

(set: $quit to false)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)(set: $numProactive to it +1)And yet her mother couldn't have bought those paints for herself, or the canvas for herself, or even the recipe books for herself. No, it was never //her// money, always her husband's, and his hand was always the arbiter of the checkbooks. "If you make me leave," she says, "I'll just find other work." Kellen rubs his face with both hands. "Barbara... I don't wish to fire you." "And where else will you find a certified typist in this town?" He doesn't reply. $Name presses forward. "I can contribute. I can train Franny, even. All I ask is some time to settle in." "Your fiancé—" "I'll talk to him." Kellen is silent for a long time. The clock ticks on overhead. At last, he lets out a long sigh. "Very well, Barbara. Your precious vacation starts today. I'll take you back after your honeymoon if you do find you want to return." $Name feels a knot deep in her chest unravel like thread unspooling. She gives him her most sincere smile. "You won't regret it, Mr. K." "Go now, Barbara. Finish your work." He waves her [[out of his office,|Franny eavesdropping]] grimacing. (Node : keep typist job)

$Name steps out of the office and nearly collides with Franny, who jumps as the door swings open. (if: $quit is true)["Oh—um," Franny sputters. She spins to the equipment cabinet in the corner beside the office and grabs a stapler. "Just need this. Sorry, sorry." $Name blinks at her. "I'll just be getting back now," Franny says, and scampers away.](else:)["Fran?" "Oh—sorry, Barb." Franny flashes her a smile and grabs a stapler from the equipment cabinet in the corner. "Just needed a few things." $Name closes the office door behind her with a frown. "Needed a few things?" "Yep!" And she all but skips back to the front desk.] Shaking her head, $name returns to her workstation, (if: $quit is true)[ready to put this gray office behind her and sunshine ahead. And yet the whispers that vibrate through her sternum feel fainter, colder somehow, as she seats herself to face the [[rest of the day.|legal afternoon]]](else:)[to the desk that is still //hers,// waiting when she returns to make a wage that's hers as well. Kellen, and his doubts, can get over it. Warm whispers strum down her stomach as she seats herself to face the [[rest of the day.|legal afternoon]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Franny eavesdropping)]

They sent weekly letters at first. But slowly it dried to biweekly, then monthly, as his language became clipped and his writing shorter. The bride asked what was wrong; it was the war, he said—too busy to write, too tired. Even though she knew he, a doctor, was not in the line of fire, she watched the news with a tremulous anxiety that followed her into her nightmares. Sometimes, she felt the letters were the only things that kept her afloat in a sea of stress and homework. Other times, they were deadweights. He was not there for her graduation, which was a strange affair on a campus nearly empty of men. The commencement speaker blathered about patriotism while her mother [wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a proud and steady grip.] The solid metal band around her ring finger and the shiny foil star on her diploma seemed equally unreal, ephemeral. Somewhere, bombs were falling, soldiers screaming, and her love in a bloodied lab coat amidst it all. The bride found an assistant secretarial position right away, 50 cents an hour, at a small legal firm downtown. [Her mother came home late from the factories, smeared with dark grease and smelling of engines and sweat. Her arms thickened with muscles borne of hauling metal and pounding rivets.] She tried to lose herself in filing and typing and copying, or else in the radio soap operas late at night, when they weren't interrupted by news from the front. But there was [[no forgetting the war.|war:impacts] 4.1.2/4.2.2 -- (set: $docileProactive to it +8)(set: $graduate to true)But she wouldn't miss the whirl of college life, the dances and the chatter and the gossip, for anything. She took typing courses and home ec and mathematics and whatever caught her fancy. After reading career brochures, she enrolled in the secretarial program—lots of opportunities for young women, decent wages. [Her mother approved. Anything to keep her daughter supported and out of the way of crushing gears and dangerous machinery.] On the sticky couch after the engagement party had faded long into the morning and homework was a distant ghost, they planned their dreams. A large wedding, Catholic, with his extended family. A home, certainly. A house in the suburbs. A good sturdy Ford. [[Then the war called, and he answered.|war/graduation] 4.1.2/4.2.2 -- They sent weekly letters at first. But slowly it dried to biweekly, then monthly, as his language became clipped and his writing shorter. The bride asked what was wrong; it was the war, he said—too busy to write, too tired. Even though she knew he, a doctor, was not in the line of fire, she watched the news with a tremulous anxiety that followed her into her nightmares and caught her mind even as she forced herself to send those cheery letters week by week. The young men of the neighborhood drained away, replaced by miasmas of uncertainty. At home, there was little to do but sit, watch the mailbox, and worry. [Her mother came home late from the factories, smeared with dark grease and smelling of engines and sweat. Her arms thickened with muscles borne of hauling metal and pounding rivets.]She quietly sent out job applications. When the grocer in the small town center accepted, [her mother nodded approval and sent her to work.] Anything to get out of the tense, silent house. She tried to lose herself in blank smiles and bags and stocking produce, or else in the radio soap operas late at night, when they weren't interrupted by news from the front. But there was [[no forgetting the war.|war:impacts] 4.1.1/4.2.1

Her fingers fly over the keys, clicks and clacks filling the legal office and the space behind her sternum. A slow day for the office: no client visits to transcribe, no unexpected visitors. Envelopes licked, papers folded, typos carefully blotted out and corrected. (if: $quit is false)[ At noon, she takes her small lunch in the lobby, thumbing through the stacks of magazines. She flips past pictures boasting New Jersey, Maine, Missouri. Brightly colored umbrellas, a man in a kilt playing bagpipes, and an illustration of a smiling couple dining at a fanciful villa. She flips by these and pauses on a page-sized photo of a woman reclining alone on the glistening golden sand of a beach somewhere tropical, staring lazily out over a deep blue ocean. //Visit the Galapagos,// the line beneath it reads. $Name sighs. Even as a child, she'd always wanted to travel. Some days it was the far North that caught her attention, where the great auroras snaked through the sky like ethereal sheets and the snow was pure white, not the gritty gray slush stained with exhaust and gravel here. Or maybe she'd travel to Europe—Paris, Vienna, Athens. Cities with roots deep in history, marble columns and Gothic churches from bygone ages. When she was younger, she assumed this sprawling trip would be her honeymoon. But the groom would rather go to Boston.](else:)[At noon, she packs up her desk in preparation to leave that afternoon, carefully stacking cups of pencils and her small cactus into an empty storage box.] When 5 PM chimes on the clock above her, she (if: $quit is true)[gathers up the last of her materials and stands, clutching the box. "You made the right choice, Barbara," says Kellen from behind her, and he pats her on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "If I were in the market for a wife, I'd pick one like you." $Name can't think of a response, so she just says, "'Bye, Mr. K." "I'll mail your final wages. Best of luck." Franny, at the front desk, has her eyes fixed on her paperwork. She doesn't look up when $name approaches. [[Say goodbye.|goodbye, Fran]] [[Leave.|no goodbye]]](else:)[swings her purse over her shoulder. "It's not too late, Barbara," says Kellen from behind her. "This could still be your last day." "My mind is made up, Mr. K." He gives a huff and vanishes into the back office again. "Well, goodbye." Franny, at the front desk, [[looks up|Fran happy]] with a smile from her paperwork. "You kept the job."] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : legal afternoon)]

"I suppose I'll see you around, Fran?" (if: (history:) contains "plans to stay" and (history:) contains "advise work")[(set: $franFriend to it -9)She looks up, brow creased. "I thought—I thought you were staying." $Name sighs. "Sometimes things just work out differently. I changed my mind. Kellen made a good case." "You thought //I// should stay. Why are //you// leaving?" "It's... well, it's just what's right for me." "Right. Okay." She turns back to work and scribbles something on her notepad hard enough to snap the pencil lead. "Yeah. See you around."](else-if: (history:) contains "plans to quit" and (history:) contains "advise marriage")[(set: $franFriend to it -3)She looks up with tired eyes. "Yeah, I'll see you around." "Is something wrong?" "Well... the office will be kinda empty, without you. But I get it." She nods. "I get it, I do." "Oh. Well," $name says. "Someone else will be here." "Right." Fran nods and looks back down at her paper. Her pencil doodles aimlessly over the corner. "'Bye, Barbara."](else:)[She looks up with tired eyes. "Yeah, I guess." (if: (history:) contains "plans to quit")["I //did// say I planned to quit."](else:)["There'll be someone else here to take my place soon, if that's what you're worried about."] "I know, I just—" She rubs the side of her face. "It's nothing. I suppose I just hoped you'd stay." $Name shrugs. "It's just what's right for me." "Yeah." Fran nods and looks back down at her paper. Her pencil doodles aimlessly over the corner. "Well. 'Bye, Barbara."] The bride lingers a moment, but Franny doesn't look up again. "'Bye," she mumbles, and hurries to [[the door.|Carolyn outside!]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : goodbye, Fran)]

(set: $franFriend to it -15)$Name lingers a moment, but Franny doesn't look up. With a shrug, $name heads to [[the door.|Carolyn outside!]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no goodbye)]

"Yes, I'll be back in a few weeks." She raises an eyebrow at the girl and taps a finger against the front desk. "You were eavesdropping." "Me?" Her blue eyes widen. "I'd //never.// I just... overheard." "Uh-huh." (if: (history:) contains "plans to stay" and (history:) contains "advise work")["I'm glad you stayed." $Name smiles. "Yeah. Me too." She drops her voice. "I thought maybe Mr. Kellen would talk you out of it." "He tried. He's right that my fiancé could support us, but..." She leans against the desk and glances toward the closed office door. "Money of my own, I think that's important too." Fran nods. "Yes. I think so too." She grins wide. "'Bye, Barbara. Only for now. Maybe I'll see you at Bible study tomorrow."](else-if: (history:) contains "plans to stay" and (history:) contains "advise marriage")[(set: $franFriend to it -4)"But I guess—I guess I'm a bit confused, though." Her brow crinkles. "Why do you think //I// should quit? You said marriage was more important." The bride leans against the desk. "Well... it's different for everyone." "Right," Fran says, tightness in her voice. There's a pause. $Name fidgets with her purse strap. Fran looks back down at her paperwork. "Well, I suppose I'll see you back in a bit. Maybe at Bible study tomorrow?" "Maybe." "'Bye for now, then, Barbara."](else:)["I suppose I'll see you back here soon, then." "That's right." "I'm glad," Fran says. She pauses. "'Bye for now, then, Barbara. Maybe I'll see you at Bible study tomorrow."] "'Bye, Fran." $Name heads to [[the door|Carolyn outside!]] with a little wave to the desk and a new bounce in her step. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Fran happy)]

(set: $romance to 0)The front door of the office slams shut behind $name(if: $quit is true)[ with an air of finality]. She moves to start down the street, but the sight of the woman lounging on the bench beside the office stops her short. The woman stares evenly at her, eyes sharp and legs crossed. Her hair is dark, shoulder-length, and swept lazily back, framing high cheekbones and a sharp, angular face. The collar of her creamy shirt is popped, loose sleeves billowing, the waist tucked into tight black slacks held up by a wide leather belt. In her hands are two milkshakes, their spoons sticking out at jaunty angles. $Name almost doesn't recognize her. Then the woman smirks—that quirked lip, that cocky tilt of the head—and $name knows. "I heard you were working," [[Carolyn|what's she doing on street]] says. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Carolyn outside!)]

Carolyn holds out one of the milkshakes. "Chocolate, right? I hope it hasn't been so long that you're liking //banana// or something now." $Name stares blankly at the drink in her hand, her jaw working. "Carolyn," she says at last, "what are you doing here?" "I was passing through. Staying at the Motocar, by the highway." Carolyn waves the cup at her. "Can't a girl just visit a friend in this town?" [[Take milkshake.]] [[Refuse milkshake.]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : what's she doing on street)] (set: $rude to 0)

(set: $romance to it +3)(set: $milkshake to true)$Name takes it and stirs it with her spoon. Chocolate, just as she said, rich and thick, straight from Moxie's. She tastes a small, experimental spoonful. "Christ, Barb, it's not //poison.// Just enjoy it." Carolyn chuckles. She pats [[the bench next to her.|talk to C]] "Come on. It's good to see you." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Take milkshake.)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $milkshake to false)"No thanks." $Name pushes the cup away, keeping her eyes on Carolyn. "I'll pass." "Christ, Barb, it's not //poison."// She rolls her eyes and puts the shake down, then pats the bench next to her. "Come on." [[Sit.|talk to C]] [[Walk away.|refuse C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Refuse milkshake.)]

(set: $romance to it +3)$Name seats herself beside the other woman, a little warily. The bench is cool on her legs, shaded by the small oak overhead from the early evening heat. Carolyn takes a slurp of her own milkshake. //Strawberry,// $name remembers. Every night they went to the downtown diner, that was Carolyn's order. Eventually, the staff would make one as soon as she stepped through the door. Some things don't change. $Name draws the toe of one shoe along the cement sidewalk. Some kid has sketched a planet and a spaceship in faded chalk. (if: $milkshake is true)[She takes another small taste of the shake. ]"You're not //just// here to catch up, are you? There's something else." Carolyn turns her mouth down in an exaggerated pout. "Is paying a visit to an old friend not enough for you?" [["We're not friends."|hostile]] [["Where have you been?"|curious]] [["It //is// good to see you."|tentatively warm]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : talk to C)]

(set: $romance to it -4)(set: $reject to true)(set: $rude to it +1)$Name backs away, hands up. "No. I don't want to talk." "Barbara—" $Name spins on her heel and walks briskly down the sidewalk. "No, Carolyn." But the other woman draws up beside her in an instant, easily keeping pace. "What bee's bouncing around //your// bonnet?" She sounds amused, that smirky lilt playing with her voice. "You didn't use to be so... skittish." "I'm not skittish," $name snaps. "I just don't want to see you. Leave me be." Carolyn draws her mouth down into an exaggerated pout. "But there's so much to talk about." $Name stops dead in the middle of the sidewalk and wheels on the other woman, pushing a finger in her face. "I don't know what you're playing at, Carolyn, showing up here. But I want no part of it." "None?" Carolyn smiles again, but this time there's no smirk in it, only a feverish intensity that makes the bride shiver. "I think you might, Barb. I've been traveling. And I hear you're engaged to that pretty boy premed." $Name blinks and draws back, confused. "Well—so what if I am? It's nothing to you." She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. "Just leave me be." "You mean it." "Of course I do!" Carolyn eyes her, then shakes her head. "Ah well. I'd hoped you'd be more... open. Have a good afternoon, Barb." The other woman turns on her heel and walks away down the street at a brisk clip, head thrown back. $Name watches until she [[disappears|annoyed at C]] around the corner. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse C)]

A car's horn blast slams through her like a shockwave. (if: $milkshake is true)[Her chocolate milkshake slips to the ground and splatters everywhere.] She turns to see the groom waving as he pulls the Dodge to the curb behind her. $Name clutches her stumach, trying to get her rattling innards to settle. She manages a little wave in return. "Hey, angel." He rolls the window down and frowns at her, tapping a finger against the door of the car. "Who was that?" [["An old friend."|C is friend]] [["A bad influence."|C is bad]] [["Nobody."|deflect question]]

outcomes: if she quit, he's happy, they go to dinner if she stayed, he's disappointed and reserved if she tells him about C and defends her, he calls off their date and leaves her there if she tells him about C and rejects her, they have their date, he is overprotective if she hides C, he's suspicious and reserved

"Ready for our date? I decided we should go to that seafood place on the edge of town..."

(set: $romance to it +2)(set: $docileProactive to it +1)The bride looks down the street after Carolyn, but she's gone. Would the groom remember her, if she said Carolyn's name? She's not sure. He probably wouldn't be pleased—that wild life is over for them both. "A girl I knew. Just saying hello." She slips into the passenger seat and shrugs it off. "Where are we going?" He grins and squeezes her shoulder as he pulls back onto the road. "I decided we should go to that seafood place on the edge of town. Pricey, but I figured we should celebrate your last day as a working girl." (if: $quit is false)[The bride's stomach drops.](else:)[]

(set: $romance to it -2)The bride glares down the street after Carolyn, but she's gone, of course. "Someone I knew a while ago, nosing around." She slips into the passenger seat and shrugs it off. "Where are we going?"

(if: $quit is true)[On the bus to the suburbs, she presses her forehead against the glass and watches the rows of white houses roll by. One of these will be hers, soon. Those shiny kitchens and pressed curtains. She shifts the box of office supplies on her lap. Won't be needing these soon.](else:)[On the bus to the suburbs, she presses her forehead against the glass and watches the rows of white houses roll by. Figures inside them, going about their dinner routines, are tiny blurs obscured by the evening sun against their windows. Would that be her soon, in those shiny kitchens, behind those ironed drapes, enacting the same little play on a glassed-in stage? Her stomach sinks. And the groom... she'll have to explain tomorrow.] On the steps outside the house, she takes a breath to steady her shivering stomach, then pushes open [[the door.|tell ma quit/kept]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : head home)]

(css: "font-size: 120%")[INSIGHTS] (if: $docileProactive is > 0)[You are more proactive than docile.](else-if: $docileProactive is < 0)[You are more docile than proactive.](else:)[You are equal parts docile and proactive.] Total number of docile/proactive choices: $DPtotal Number of docile options chosen: $numDocile Number of proactive options chosen: $numProactive [[Next Chapter|Black Spines]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insights ch 2)]

(if: (history:) contains "happy ma")[The symphony](else:)[The tinny classical music of the radio downstairs] swims and dances inside her. She wonders again about the whispering furrow in her stomach—and about the strange thrill that courses through her when she touches it, oh so gently, through her dress. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ch end)]

=><= (css: "font-size: 200%")[3. Black Spines] <== When $name awakes late the next morning, she discovers her arms pierced the pillow while she slept. The small, dark heads of spines sprout from her forearms, from the tips of her fingers, wrapped seamlessly within her flesh, not quite bone—something smoother. Goose-down stuffing drifts from each slim, pointed tip. Her fingers fly to the junction of flesh and spine, but there's no mark, no cut, not even a bruise. No pain when she presses or pulls. Not a hint of blood. She touches a thumb to one dark point. Through her skin, she can see the blackness continue down into her arm, like a plunging vein. She pulls open her nightgown. The groove remains, as well. Side by side, spines and furrow, changing her. Carolyn had said something about changes, hadn't she? She'll show the groom. He's a medical man—he must know what's going on, why she's growing these things. Whether they're natural. (if: (history:) contains "furious ma" or (history:) contains "disappointed ma")[Downstairs [[is silent.|annoyed mom gone]]](else:)[Downstairs [[is silent.|happy mom gone]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Black Spines)]

Her mother's face crumples like a paper sack when $name gives her the news. "Oh, Barbara." She shakes her head slowly. "I thought your judgment was better than this. I hoped you were past this... this girlish stubbornness." "I just want to have some money of my own." "There is no //'my own'// in marriage. It's the //family's.// And your darling groom is making more than enough for you both. What will he say?" "Well, I haven't told—" "It'll look like he can't even support his girl. He'll be so sad, Barb." She sinks heavily into one of the dining room chairs. "Please, Barbara, don't treat your fiancé like this. Go back to the nice boss and tell him you take it back. It'll be for the best." "No, Ma. This is my decision. I want to stay. I'll work it out with my fiancé." She almost adds that he said once that he'd support her in this, that he said she was a smart cookie with a brain for work. But the words shrivel in her throat. Would he say that now? Her mother sniffles. "Selfish. You're selfish." [[Apologize.|sorry for disappointment]] [[Respond with anger.|angry about disappointment]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : disappointed ma)]

"Barbara Catherine Williams," her mother barks, startling a flurry of birds off the backyard feeder through the open window. "What kind of joke is this? I thought you knew better." Her mother's voice reverberates across the furrow in her stomach, each word a tremble in her gut. The bride hides her shaking hands in the folds of her coat. "Ma, I—" "Priorities," her mother snaps. "When you marry, you give yourself to the //family.// That's more important than any pennies you could wring from a useless vanity project. You //cannot// neglect the more important things!" "That's not the point," the bride says, her voice rising. Frustration wraps her throat in tiny, white-hot cords. "I—I'm still going to be a good wife, I'm not neglecting—" "Not if you go around acting like this. You're a woman now. You're about to be married." Her mother puts a thin hand on her forehead. Redness rises in her cheeks. "What do you have to say for yourself?" [[Apologize.|sorry for anger]] [[Respond with anger.|angry about anger]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : furious ma)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)She drops her head into her hands and hooks her fingers through her hair, trying to breathe evenly. "Ma, I—I haven't meant to act any way differently, it's just been a lot of pressure, and I'm //trying// to do the right thing—" "Well, you've been //failing,// haven't you." "What I mean to say is—I'm sorry, Ma, I am." She almost adds that she had the groom's blessing, that he said once that he'd support her in this, that he said she was a smart cookie with a brain for work. But the words shrivel in her throat. Would he say that now? Her mother's face remains hard. "Sorry," she says, "does not undo the disrespect you've shown." She sighs and sits heavily on the plush chair beside the fireplace. "I know." "You are free to make your //own// dinner tonight, Barbara. Perhaps that will get your sense of responsibility working again." Shaking her head, her mother turns and stalks away. The patio door slams [[behind her.|cool down]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sorry for anger)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +6)(set: $numProactive to it +1)(if: (history:) contains "G's assault")["The way //I've// been acting?"]The bride turns on her mother. Heat rises in her chest and into her head. Her nails bite her palms. "(set: $numProactive to it +1)(if: (history:) contains "G's assault")[What about //you?// ]I hoped you'd //listen.// Support me in this. Do you realize how stressful this has been for me? Everyone wants me to //do this// and //be that,// and I'm getting ripped apart in the middle. Well, I'm done with it. My fiancé and I, we're //done.// And I'm glad." Her mother shakes her head, cheeks flaming red. Behind her, the lid on the pot rattles and shakes as the stew boils over. "I love you, Barbara. Which is why I //can't// let you act this way." She slaps the wooden spoon in her hand against her opposite palm. "Do not make me spank you like a child to get your attitude out." "You wouldn't. You're content to just sit there and bark at me about //dress this// and //job that// and make me into the good girl I never was. You don't //see// me. You've //never// seen me." "Barbara," her mother says, and there's a hoarse, dangerous undercurrent in her voice that the bride has never heard. "You will not speak to me like this." [[Continue.|kicked out]] [[Stop.|quit speaking]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : dangerous path)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)But the momentum carries her forward, and the bride rides it, heartbeat in her ears and toes and groin and deep within the furrow of her stomach. "I took three men to bed in college. I drank 'till I puked. (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[I fucked Carolyn Campbell. ]And I //danced,// Ma. I danced 'till I forgot the world and this miserable little life you've made yourself. Until I forgot you wanted this for me, too." The bride gives a shrill bark of laughter. "It's—it's //pathetic."// Her mother's backhand catches $name across the face. She stumbles back, cheek stinging. Her mouth drops open, but no words come. Her mother advances on her, and $name stumbles back. "How //dare// you," her mother splutters. "How //dare// you speak to me this way, Barbara Catherine Williams. Get out." Another beat of silence. "What?" She thrusts her spoon toward the door. On the stove, stew hisses as it dribbles down the pot and meets flame. "You are no longer welcome in this house." [[Refuse.|try to stay]] [[Leave.|leave house]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : kicked out)]

$Name squeezes her eyes shut against the torrent of momentum washing over her, hot and dense, carrying her toward catastrophe. She bites her tongue hard enough that the sting of blood swarms her mouth. "I don't want to see you," her mother says, when she doesn't respond. "Not until you're ready to apologize." "Where do you want me to—?" The hoarseness remains, but her mother just looks tired now, the blotchy red draining from her cheeks. "I don't care. Go to your room, go outside, or—or just leave. I can't speak to you right now." She turns away, back to the stove, where the stew is seeping out from under the lid to dribble down the sides of the pot. The flames hiss where the droplets meet, but her mother doesn't move to stir. She just stands there, back to $name, shoulders heavy. $Name swallows down the iron sting in her throat and tiptoes up the stairs. In her room, she [[falls into her unmade bed|leave/stay decision]] and tries to ignore the sounds of rising sobs downstairs. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : quit speaking)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)$Name shoves her mother's hand away and grips the edge of the counter. "Ma, you're not being //fair!// I just—this is //my// choice, not yours! It's not your business. Stop pushing me!" "I only want what's best for you!" Her mother throws her hands into the air. "I want you to be //happy,// have a good marriage. And if you keep acting like a little snot, your new husband will //not// be so forgiving." "That's between //us,"// $name says. She almost adds that he said once that he'd support her in this, that he said she was a smart cookie with a brain for work. But the words shrivel in her throat. Would he say that now? Instead, she snaps, "Why can't you just leave me be?" "Ungrateful," her mother says, in that low, hoarse voice that makes $name feel like a small girl again, in danger of a spanking. "You had better pull yourself together. And you are free to make your //own// dinner tonight." Then she spins on her heel and stalks away. The porch door slams [[behind her.|cool down]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry about anger)]

Barbara Catherine Williams Mary Williams Edgar Williams Carolyn Campbell Peter Schmitt Nancy Wester John Kellen Francis "Franny" Helmsworth

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name sits heavily in the chair closest to the fireplace and rakes her hands through her hair. "I—I'm sorry, Ma, it's just... everyone seems to want something different from me, and I don't know if I can deal with it all." Her mother pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers hard enough to leave white marks there. The color recedes from her face somewhat. "You can't keep dodging your responsibilities and disrespecting your family like this, honey. I thought you would understand the //gravity// of these decisions." "I do..." "Then you'd best start acting like it." She gives the bride a sidelong gaze that makes her feel like an insect on a pin. "Don't be stupid, darling." She turns on her heel and stalks away. The porch door slams [[behind her.|cool down]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sorry for disappointment)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +1)//"Selfish?// Ma, you're not being fair!" $Name slices a hand through the air. "I'm tired of you saying //do this// and //be that// and forgetting that your daughter is her //own// person with her //own// life outside this damn wedding." Her mother sniffles. "Go to your room." "What?" "Go to your room." "Ma, I'm not a child—" "If you //act// like a child, Barbara Williams, I will treat you like one. //Go to your room."// [[Obey.|go to room]] [[Refuse.|hold firm]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry about disappointment)]

Her mother leans across the counter and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Oh, //wonderful,// dear, I knew you'd make the right choice. Though you don't need to take up any silly little hobbies." "I think it'd be nice, to decorate the new place..." But her mother has already turned back to the kitchen. "Mhm. Set the table, will you, love? And I'll make you a little apple tart, for celebration—something small, not too fattening, of course..." The bride makes her way to the napkin cabinet, turning up [[the music|ch end]] as she passes the radio in the corner. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : happy ma)]

$Name stands shaking in the kitchen alone. The room suddenly seems very small, very tight, and the scent of cabbage is almost overpowering. Any appetite she had is gone. She glances out the window as she climbs the stairs to her room. Her mother hunches on the lawn with her back to the house, yanking at weeds in her overgrown garden like they personally harmed her. Soil flies. (if: (history:) contains "sorry for disappointment" or (history:) contains "sorry for anger")[Her mother didn't mean anything by it. She can't have. That same voice that had sung $name to sleep as a child didn't suit the cutting tone it now took. Once she calms down, the bride thinks, she'll accept it. She hopes.](else:)[Good riddance.] $Name seats herself at her desk and stares away into the forest of houses and yards beyond their garden, willing her pulsing heartbeat to still. Green gardens, miles of pearly white fences, children's laughter. A breeze sighs through the window. She [[closes her eyes.|ch end]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : cool down)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"Fine! Fine." She grabs an apple out of the basket on the counter and turns her back. "Have a nice night." "And no dinner." Her mother's gaze bores into her back as $name storms upstairs, her nails biting into the apple's surface hard enough to burst its skin. The cabbage soup smells sickening to her now, seeping into her sinuses like mold. Better to be alone until her mother's temper cools. She seats herself at her desk and stares down into the backyard, willing her pulsing heartbeat to still. Overgrown gardens, miles of pearly white fences, children's laughter. A breeze sighs through the window. She [[closes her eyes.|ch end]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : go to room)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"And what if I don't? " $Name folds her arms tight across her chest. "What are you going to do, spank me?" "Maybe I ought to." "Well, good luck." She gives a hollow laugh. "Whatever you think, I'm not child-//sized// anymore." Her mother stands there for a moment, gripping the spoon tight enough that her hand trembles. Then she draws herself up to her full five-foot height. "You are free to make your //own// dinner tonight, Barbara. Perhaps that will get your sense of responsibility working again." She spins on her heel and stalks away. The porch door slams [[behind her.|cool down]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : hold firm)]

Inside, her mother is puttering in the kitchen, as always, a pot of boiled dinner bubbling on the stove, the radio in the corner playing its evening classical broadcast. Something with cabbage, from the smell. She looks up as $name kicks her Mary Janes off in the entryway. (if: (history:) contains "angry mother")["Well?" her mother says, voice brittle and pointed, as though daring the bride to contradict her. "How was your last day?"](else:)["Welcome home, love," she calls. "How was your last day?"] (if: $quit is false)[$Name makes her way to the kitchen and leans against the counter. She can't meet her mother's eyes. "I... I didn't quit, Ma." Her mother stops, wet spoon in hand. "You what?" "I got vacation time, but... (if: $dress is false)[[[I kept the job."|furious ma]]](else:)[[[I kept the job."|disappointed ma]]]](else:)[$Name makes her way to the kitchen and leans against the counter, smiling. "Oh, it was lovely, I don't think I'll miss that little place... I was thinking I'd take up painting like you did. I'm glad to [[be done."|happy ma]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : tell ma quit/kept)]

It's just past noon. Nobody in the kitchen. $Name lets out a slow, long breath. A small blessing. There's no note, but next to the marking for the Bible study, the family calendar shows her mother's appointment at one of those neighbor lunches. Complaining about her daughter and how lazy she is for sleeping in, no doubt. And her father is away at some broom conference. $Name takes some fruit from the fridge. On her way to the door, she pauses. Left prominently on the counter is a stack of bridal magazines. With a frown, she shuffles through them. Smiling women gaze adoringly at dapper hunks. //Keeping Your Man Once You've Caught Him—Longtime Wives Share Their Secrets!// Ads for mouthwash, beauty treatments, weight loss supplements. //She Almost Missed Being a Mrs! And Then She Found... Cashmere Bouquet Face Powder! A Smooth, Downy, Youthful Look That Men Crave.// Shaking her head, she carries her meal to the back porch. The sky is a deep gray today, thick with humidity and the scent of cut grass. Storm clouds. She leans back against the wall of the house and [[closes her eyes.|remember C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : annoyed mom gone)]

It's just past noon. On the kitchen counter is a note: her mother is at a brunch party down the street, and her father has left for his broom conference. //Food is in the fridge. Do check out the magazines on the table, dear.// A tiny bowl with a few cubes of cantelope, several blueberries, and a slice of pineapple greets her. She takes the miniscule meal to the table and flips through the stack of magazines on the table. Articles and advertisements are circled in her mother's red pen. //You Can't Escape Being Irritable If Your System is Clogged With Poisonous Waste. Be Popular, Fresh-Lookin, Lighthearted... With Ex-Lax!// //Edna's Case Really Was a Pathetic One... Often A Bridesmaid But Never a Bride. Like Every Woman, Her Primary Ambition Was to Marry—Yet Her Halitosis Scared Off Every Man. Try Listerine Today!// And there, triple circled and starred, //Love Went Packing... Until I Tried Lysol For Feminine Hygeine. Now Love Comes Home to Stay.// The bride leans back in her chair and [[closes her eyes.|remember C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : happy mom gone)]

In the darkness behind her eyelids, the wedding looms, a lacy white specter hovering above tomorrow, full of douches and soap and mouthwash and laxatives. And the groom—she can see him at the altar, smiling that knee-weakening grin, eyes on her like she's the only woman in the world. Carolyn's smirking face rises, unbidden, to her mind. What could she possibly want, coming here again, tracking $name down like a wolf on the hunt? Something about traveling, and changes... A low grumble of thunder rolls across the sky. (if: (history:) contains "annoyed mom gone")[She uses the wall to climb to her feet and slips inside as the first few droplets sprinkle the patio.](else:)[She watches the first few droplets sprinkle the patio outside.] A day to herself. Perhaps she should go to that Bible study her mother scribbled on the calendar... or perhaps she could go and find Carolyn. She jumps as a honk blasts [[from outside.|groom has a surprise]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : remember C)]

Confusion washes over her as the glint of the silver Dodge catches her eye outside. A moment later, there comes a knock at the door. She pulls the sleeves of her nightshirt down over her the spines on her arms. The groom stands there, a fragrant rose bouquet in one hand, with that heartbreaking grin baring perfect, square teeth. He scoops her into an embrace with his free arm. "Darling!" he says. "Lovely afternoon." It's drizzling. She chuckles. "Oh yes. Gorgeous, if you're a duck." "Then call me a drake, cutie." He kisses her on the forehead. "Quack quack." $Name giggles and breathes in the faint, familiar scent of his cologne with a little sigh. This is //him//—this is her groom. After a moment, she leans back enough to look up at him. "But you aren't working, love?" "Can't a proud mallard come and see his hen whenever he pleases?" He gives a mournful quack and pretends to dab away tears, making her laugh again. "I took the day off. I've got a surprise for you. Go doll up for me, sugar." "A surprise?" "You'll see." He puts the bouquet in her hands, then seats himself on the porch swing with an air of finality. [["Go on."|get dressed]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom has a surprise)]

She turns back inside, humidity trailing into the house. (if: $quit is false)[She wasn't prepared to see him, not before she'd decided what to say about... well, her decision with the job. But maybe it wasn't about that at all.] Maybe they were going out of town, somewhere fun, a theme park or the city or the sprawling state forest just outside their little town. Somewhere they could hold hands and walk in the rain and make more stupid duck jokes. Her cheer fades as she makes her way upstairs. The glistening new spines rustle inside her sleeves. She stares into her closet at the mess of clothes, barely seeing it. What would he say? Would he take her to the clinic? Would they need to cut open her arms to take the spines out? And what would he say of the strange, whispering furrow that even now thrums with every brush of fabric? She puts the flowers in the sink and rummages through her closet, spines catching on fabric. Something short-sleeved; they'd shred anything else, by the looks of her pillow. She picks [[the swingy yellow A-line with the black belt.|choose dress]] [[jeans and a striped blouse.|choose pants]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : get dressed)]

$Name pins her hair up, then flips her dress back and forth in the mirror a few times, relishing the airy swing around her legs. Just for fun, she twirls. The strange black spines glisten in the light. Her sternum vibrates softly, as if the music's playing somewhere inside. She likes it, the way they shine—in spite of their strangeness, in spite of herself. Maybe [[he will,|show groom (dress)]] too. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : choose dress)]

$Name pins up her hair and steps back to look in the mirror. She tucks her button-up blouse into her waistband. //Sharp,// she thinks, running her hands up the sides of her legs in a way that sends thrilling shivers through her sternum. She likes it, the way they shine—in spite of their strangeness, in spite of herself. Maybe [[he will,|show groom (pants)]] too. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : choose pants)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"No, really, where are we going?" The groom rolls his eyes. "Fine. It's a photoshoot." "What?" He eyes her with a strange look, a hungry look. "Boudoir," he says. "Pinup." "Oh," $name says, a little faintly. She remembers a girl in high school who sold pinups to pay for college. And $name had once seen photographs of a former college classmate in the cache of porn magazines she stumbled upon when fetching socks for her father—the woman had wanted to be a psychologist. And Annie, the bride's aunt ("the //crazy// one," her mother said) had hers hung on the wall for anyone to see—all smooth ass and curved back and lace. She didn't do it for a husband. She didn't //have// a husband ("that spinster's too //crazy// to catch a man!"), only her longtime flatmate, Vera. The car grumbles to life. The groom notices her pause. "What?" $Name stares out the front window. A little warmth pools in her cheeks at the thought of posing like that, elegant as any magazine model. And the groom would love it—he'd look at her like he did back at the formal dance, like she was the only girl in the world. (if: $quit is false)[And perhaps it would soften the blow of her keeping her job...] [["I'm not sure I want to."|refuse boudoir] [["It sounds fun."|accept boudoir] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Insist.)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She slips into the car next to him. It smells of leather, sweat, and old cologne. "Must be a good surprise." He favors her with another perfect smile. "It's a treat for any girl." The car screeches out of the driveway and down the street, wheels [[spraying water.|to the photoshoot] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Leave it.)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)"About that." She pauses, swallows. "I decided to keep it." He stops. "I just want a bit of my own money. To spend on whatever I'd like. And at work I can develop my skills, have something worthwhile to do with my days..." He turns fully toward her. Mouth twists like a vine. "You kept it," he says. "...Yes. That's what I said." His fingers slowly tighten around her wrist. "You do //not// need your own money. This house's money will be //mine// and it will be more than enough for us //both."// "I just—" "Barbara," he snarls, "you would choose some useless (if: $graduate is true)[typing](else:)[vegetables] over our //home?"// He yanks her hand, pulling her up close to him. "I cannot have my wife neglecting her //duties// to sit at some counter and follow some other man's orders while leaving our home empty." [[Respond angrily.|angry at groom -discard]] [[Defend decision.|defend decision - discard]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume - discard]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reveal kept - discard)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $numDocile to it +1)"Oh. Right." She looks away, down at the ground, where puddles are beginning to form in the drizzle. Now was not the time. Not the day before the wedding. Not until she'd figured out how to break the news, and he wouldn't blow up at her... The groom grins, oblivious. "You'll like it." "What is it, anyway?" "A photoshoot." "What?" He eyes her with a strange look, a hungry look. "Boudoir," he says. "Pinup." "Oh," $name says, a little faintly. She remembers a girl in high school who sold pinups to pay for college. And $name had once seen photographs of a former college classmate in the cache of porn magazines she stumbled upon when fetching socks for her father—the woman had wanted to be a psychologist. And Annie, the bride's aunt ("the //crazy// one," her mother said) had hers hung on the wall for anyone to see—all smooth ass and curved back and lace. She didn't do it for a husband. She didn't //have// a husband ("that spinster's too //crazy// to catch a man!"), only her longtime flatmate, Vera. The car grumbles to life. The groom notices her pause. "What?" $Name stares out the front window. A little warmth pools in her cheeks at the thought of posing like that, elegant as any magazine model. And the groom would love it—he'd look at her like he did back at the formal dance, like she was the only girl in the world. (if: $quit is false)[And perhaps it would soften the blow of her keeping her job...] [[Reject the photoshoot.|refuse boudoir]] [[Agree to go with him.|accept boudoir]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : hide kept)]

Docile - You are more docile than proactive. You go with the easier option, the one that will most endear you to others and cause the fewest waves. You go along with what people want.

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She bites her tongue hard enough to taste the metallic sting of blood. The groom throws her hand down and stalks away. "This is unacceptable, Barbara. I should have known staying in this job for so long would warp your head with professional delusions. I thought you were prepared to marry and take on all your rightful duties. But I see I was wrong." He pauses, as though expecting her to respond, but she remains silent. Instead she stares down into the gathering puddles that mirror the clouds in gunmetal gray. The reflection of her face swims and wobbles with each droplet. The groom seems... distant, somehow. "Don't talk to me," the groom says, "until you've put these idiotic career delusions behind you. That is your highest priority." The car door's slam rouses her. He skids down the driveway. Wet, hair falling from her pins, (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[dress sticking to her legs,](else:)[shirt sticking to her chest,] she watches until he's [[out of sight.|alone on the porch] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : let groom fume)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)She presses the heels of her hands to her temples. "No—no! That's not what I mean, that's not what I want. I can do both." "No. If he had known where this would lead, your boss would not have hired you to begin with. Girl jobs are meant to teach discipline, etiquette, respect. Not balloon some absurd notion of a split home life and digression from duty. A split home is a wrecked home, Barbara. It's no wonder men stuck in wrecks look elsewhere for a bit of peace and order." "Are you saying you're going to //cheat?"// "I'm simply stating a fact. It's not my word you have to take. You can find it in any marriage book, from any marriage counsellor. It's one that you must accept." She squeezes her eyes shut. He won't listen. Maybe he [[never did.|groom plea] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend decision)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)She yanks her hand away from him. //"Lenient?// Since when did I need your //permission// for what I choose to do in my free time?" "Since you agreed to marry me," he says. He takes a slow step forward, looming over her. "You're my girl and you're going to be my wife and I have the //right// to keep these maladjusted aspirations //out// of my household. It's time to put your little delusions of being an //office lady// to an end." The words drip with slime and scorn. "I am not going to //grovel// to get your approval for what I do with my time. Wife or not." She draws herself up to her full height. "Marrying you doesn't make me any less //Barbara,// any less //myself// or any more //you."// "I see I should've put my foot down sooner," he says in a low voice that carries gnaws and squirms through her torso like a putrid worm. "These pointless pursuits have put //ideas// in your head that I cannot have in the woman who will keep my house and raise my children." $Name's voice rises. "I thought I was marrying a man who would respect me. I thought marriage was a partnership." "And I thought I was marrying a woman who would respect and follow //me// rather than abandoning our future for flights of fancy and usurping my income. You should have stayed home with your mother. //She// would show you how to run a family." (if: (history:) contains "furious ma")[[[Insult mother.|insult mother - discard]]] [[Accuse him of changing.|accusation]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume - discard]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry at groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)The bride presses her hands to her head. "What happened to you? Where's the man I met in college?" The man who studied with her late at night, who said he loved the way she thought, who brought her hot chocolate in their late nights at the library, who danced with her until dawn? The man she fell in love with? The sharp static of tears press against the backs of her eyes. "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't bitch and cry and act a nuisance about being one." She closes her eyes, tilts her face to the sky against the rain, which falls in a numbing patter against her skin, and tries to [[breathe evenly.|groom plea] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accusation)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"My mother," $name says, "is a controlling little harpy who's just as bad as you. And if you're hoping that I'll let you, //either// of you, decide what //my// life or //my// marriage or //my// home means." He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. "It isn't your home," he says. "It's //ours.// And a good home begins with a good wife who respects the head of the household. I'm ready to do my part. You need to accept yours." The sharp static of tears press against the backs of her eyes. "And I thought I had a [[say|groom plea] in it." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insult mother)]

His voice softens a bit. "Look, Barb, that college man and I are the same, at the end. I've simply grown up. And it's time you did too." He takes her hands again, gently. "I only want a lovely home for us //both.// Clean linen, a warm meal, a smile, happy little ones to hug and bounce... all things that come from a nice wifely touch. These things begin at home. I don't wish you to stray." She hiccups a little, in the back of her throat. "It's what you've always wanted," he says. "What we always planned." She looks at him again through the blur of rising tears. His hair lies limp on his head, washed down by the rain and flattened by the grease. That softness looks wrong on his face, the gentle curve of his lips and cheeks so //off// beside those cold and probing eyes. If she saw him at a party, looking at her the way he does now, she would stay far across the dance floor. She pulls her hands away. "You're wrong. You're not the same. I wanted to marry that man... the other one. You aren't him. You're not the one I love." He gives a heavy sigh. "You're in a //mood// today, Barbara. The wedding's gotten in your head. It's stress. Maybe it's time to take you to a psychotherapist." She stares past him. Faintly, she can see her warped reflection in the polished silver side of the Dodge. The sharp, strong hooks deep in her arms shine in the rain, and her soaked clothes cling to her close enough to make out the curve of the furrow in her stomach. The groom seems far away, somehow. "Don't talk to me," he says, "until you calm down and are ready to be reasonable about all this." The car door's slam rouses her. He skids down the driveway. Wet, hair falling from her pins, (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[dress sticking to her legs,](else:)[shirt sticking to her chest,] she watches until he's [[out of sight.|alone on the porch]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom plea)]

$Name sinks onto the porch rocking chair and leans back, closing her eyes. Water dribbles through her hair and down her back. Its patter on the roof plays a symphony in her tendons. It washes the tension from her shoulders in cool rivulets. Rainy, gray, and empty though it is, the day is hers. [[Go to Bible study.|walk to Bible group]] [[Find Carolyn.|find C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : alone on the porch)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)His brow furrows. "What? It's not gonna kill you. I've talked to the boys and they all got their gals to do it. Liked it, too." He pats her shoulder. "You'll look like a //treat// in that lingerie, Barbie. I can't wait." [["I've got plans already."|make excuse]] [["I just don't want to."|blunt]] [[Agree to go.|accept boudoir]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse boudoir)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She slips into the car next to him. It smells of leather, sweat, and old cologne. "Sounds like fun." "I knew you'd like it," he says. The car screeches out of the driveway and down the street, wheels [[spraying water.|to the photoshoot]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accept boudoir)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)"Plans?" [["I've got Bible study."|Bible study excuse]] [["I'm meeting a friend."|C excuse]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : make excuse)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"I'd rather stay home," she says. Part of her cringes at the thought of stripping down in front of a camera, curling herself into whatever position he thinks looks best, snapped by a stranger's lens and captured there. "I just don't think I'd enjoy doing... boudoir." The groom's mouth turns down. "Barbara. I'm just trying to do something //fun// for you. Can't you just go along with it for once?" "I don't want to." "I took the day off and everything! I can't believe this. You're being ungrateful. I just wanna show my girl a good time, and she refuses." He jabs a thumb toward the door. "Go on. Leave, if you want to be a killjoy. God, I don't know why I do nice things for you." "We could do something else..." "No. This was going to be our date and you ruined it." She shrugs and steps out. From the shelter of the [[front porch,|alone on the porch]] she watches him rocket away down the street, wheels spraying water. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : blunt)]

"A friend?" His narrow eyes probe her closely. "A girl," she says quickly. "A girl from college. She's back in town." "Who?" The groom probably met her a few times, and the parties where they first mingled. What he thought, she has no idea. That wild life is over for them. Both of them. "Carolyn Campbell, do you remember...?" He frowns. "That bitch with all the men?" Her stomach sinks. "That was just gossip. Besides, she's different now. She just wants to say hello." "You'd rather buddy up with someone like //her// than spend time with me." "It's not that. I just—I told her I would." Not exactly true, but close enough. "I need to keep my word." He fixes his eyes out the front window. The tension in his jaw worries her, the way his knuckles whiten on the wheel. "Fine," he says. "Go." $Name pauses, but he doesn't look at her. She slips out of the car and watches from the bench on the front porch as he reverses and creeps away down the street. Closing her eyes, she allows herself a [[small sigh.|find C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C excuse)]

"Nancy's Bible study meets today," she says in a rush. The groom sits back in his seat. "You'd rather sit around with some church ladies than enjoy a photoshoot." "I promised my ma I'd go more regularly, and they'll want to hear all about the wedding, you know." She puts on her best smile. "And they'll love to hear just how lovely a fiancé you've been..." He grunts. "We'll do it after the wedding, then." He eyes her. "I still expect lingerie for our special night." $Name feels her cheeks heat. She looks down into her lap as the car reverses down the driveway. [["Right."|arrive at Bible study]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Bible study excuse)]

//Come find me.// $Name lifts her eyelids. The gray clouds shift and churn over the house. She pushes herself up from the bench, where a puddle in her shape has formed. //Motocar Motel.// She takes the umbrella from beside the door, swings her purse over her shoulder, and [[steps outside.|travel to motel]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : find C)]

Two bus rides pass in a haze. A few people give her sidelong looks, in her soaked summer clothes and dripping hair. She hardly notices as she folds and unfolds the scrap of paper with quick, nervous fingers. Outside, the rain thickens to a downpour. The Motocar Motel sits on the edge of town, nestled against the highway that rumbles past beside it. Headlights flash back and forth through the rain, and the harsh yellow of the neon sign on the roof flickers occasionally in the sheets of water, announcing vacancy. $Name sloshes through the near-empty parking lot. It's not hard to find Carolyn's room. The vehicle parked outside is a real junker, rusted and repainted, its left back fin dented and bent and one of the headlights taped. There's a toothy plastic dinosaur glued to the roof. The drapes are drawn, a warm light glows inside. She can hear the faint murmur of a radio playing. The bride folds her umbrella—for all the good it did, judging by her soggy socks—and (if: $reject is true or $rude is >=2)[[[knocks.|too rude]]](else-if: $rude is >2)[[[knocks.|C at motel (rude)]]](else:)[[[knocks.|C at motel (nice)]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : travel to motel)]

There's a rustling, a thump. And then Carolyn opens the door. "Barbara," she says, and a massive grin fills her features. "Come in." The bed behind her is mussed, as though she just got up. The radio in the corner coos morning jazz laced with soft static. Her dark hair stands on end. As she steps back to let $name into the room, she sees that Carolyn's wearing nightclothes sheer enough to make $name redden and look away. Carolyn doesn't seem to notice. She throws the bedsheets into some semblance of neatness and turns the radio down to a murmur. The room is small, musty-smelling, its walls paneled with fake wood. "I thought you might not come," Carolyn says, giving the coffee maker in the corner a few good smacks. It gurgles and spits some brown liquid into a mug. She offers it to the bride. "How 'bout a nice cup of joe?" [[Take it.|take coffee]] [[Refuse it.|refuse coffee]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C at motel (nice))]

(set: $romance to it +1)$Name takes the mug and grimaces at the sharp scent rising off it. "What is this?" Carolyn grins. "What passes for coffee in this joint. Spend enough time in motels, and you get used to it." "You stay in motels a lot?" "When I can afford it. Car ain't the most comfy." She makes herself a cup, then plops herself onto the half-made bed and crosses her legs, waving for $name to join her. "Well, don't just stand there." (if: $warm is true)[After a moment, $name sits across from her on the bed. In the soft, heavy air of the small motel room, she can almost believe they're back in the dorm together, procrastinating homework and whispering about this or that trivial gossip late into the night. Carolyn takes another sip of of the rancid coffee, eyes not wavering from $name's face. For a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.](else:)[$Name hesitates. Carolyn rolls her eyes. "Come on, Barbara, I don't bite." She grins around the rim of the mug. "Unless you want me to." "What's that supposed to mean?" "That you can stop worrying." $Name sits across from her on the bed, a bit rigidly. Carolyn takes another sip of of the rancid coffee, eyes not wavering from $name's face. For a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.] [[Ask about travel.|ask about travel]] [[Ask about changes.|ask about changes]] [["Nice dinosaur."|dinosaur]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : take coffee)]

(set: $romance to it -1)$Name waves her away. "No thanks." Carolyn takes a sip for herself, then grimaces. "You're not missing much." She plops herself onto the half-made bed and crosses her legs, waving for $name to join her. "Well, don't just stand there." (if: $warm is true)[After a moment, $name sits across from her on the bed. In the soft, heavy air of the small motel room, she can almost believe they're back in the dorm together, procrastinating homework and whispering about this or that trivial gossip late into the night. Carolyn takes another sip of the rancid coffee, eyes not wavering from $name's face. For a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.](else:)[$Name hesitates. Carolyn rolls her eyes. "Come on, Barbara, I don't bite." She grins around the rim of the mug. "Unless you want me to." "What's that supposed to mean?" "That you can stop worrying." $Name sits across from her on the bed, a bit rigidly. Carolyn takes another sip of of the rancid coffee, eyes not wavering from $name's face. For a moment, the only sound is the rain outside.] $Name breaks the silence. [[Ask about travel.|ask about travel]] [[Ask about changes.|ask about changes]] [["Nice dinosaur."|dinosaur]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse coffee)]

(set: $romance to it +3)Carolyn grins. "That's Joanie. My mascot. I'll have to introduce you two properly sometime." "Joanie's riding... quite a car." "She's a real clunker, but she's mine. Fueled by the power of the Jurassic and a metric ton of service manuals." [[Ask about travel.|ask about travel]] [[Ask about changes.|ask about changes]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : dinosaur)]

(set: $romance to it +3)"You said you've been traveling," $name says. "Where have you gone?" Carolyn leans back, looking up at the gunky ceiling. "Where //haven't// I gone? Went express to the Big Apple first, had to get away from this place where everyone knows me. Waitressed for a bit of cash, had fun, went to the underground clubs. Drank a lot—drank too much, prolly. The police hassle you, though, if you ain't got a pricey high-rise apartment in that city. Rolled out again after a few months." "And then?" "I went south... breezed through, worked odd jobs... I've been reading maintenance and mechanical manuals, see, to keep that junk out front running after I broke down on the shoulder one too many times and almost got myself towed. Fixed some guy's tractor after that on a bet and made some money as the trick pony lady mechanic in town." Carolyn closes her eyes. "Then west... it's gorgeous out there, Barbara, like you wouldn't believe. Great high mountains with snow whiter than paper. They gotta be scraping God's holy ass with how tall they are. And then there's the desert all golden and the rocks that take these impossible shapes... you'd love it. You've always had the travel bug." She sighs. "I don't suppose they've let you out of this dump." "'They?'" Carolyn waves a hand through the air. "Them. Any of them. Your fiancé, your parents, any of the nosy nasties who make it their life to get on your case." [["I've been trapped."|trapped in town]] [["It's not so bad."|town isn't bad]] [["They're not like that."|defend ma/groom]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about travel)]

"I think," Carolyn says, "you've already noticed them." "What?" Carolyn reaches out with one finger and touches the dark spines growing from $name's arm, dark against the motel bedsheets. //Gently, so gently.// A shiver runs through her. "Physical changes," Carolyn says, "that most people don't see." Her finger slips down the tip of each spine, tracing the knife point sculpted in the strange hard substance that rises from $name's skin as though it's always been there. "That perhaps //you// wouldn't see, either. If it didn't appear on you." She tips her head to one side, scrutinizing. "Since I suspect there's something else beneath that pretty little (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[dress](else:)[top] of yours." "My fiancé didn't see them," $name says in a slightly strangled voice. Her heartbeat kicks in her chest. "My ma didn't see them. How do you—?" "How do //I// see, when //they// don't?" A grin grows on her face, a strange grin. Her finger taps $name's topmost spine. [["Look again."|see C's change]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about changes)]

$Name can see it. The towering mountains, the sweeping sand. She's seen photographs in the travel magazines (if: $graduate is true)[in the lawyer's waiting room](else:)[retail magazine shipments] and the doctor's office and everywhere. To be there below the mountains, walking under those misshapen rock arches, in the dewy forests in the northwest and the rolling beaches of the south—that, the true experience, the true majesty—the magazines could never provide her. She looks away. "I'm trapped here," she says, low and soft enough that Carolyn leans forward to hear. "It changes, but it doesn't. Lucky's gets a new pool table. The tennis courts are repainted. They put down a few more trails in the woods. But it doesn't make a difference. It's just... paint. Thin paint on this dull place." "Why don't you just leave? I did." [["I don't know..."|idk]] [["That's different."|different story]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : trapped in town)]

$Name shrugs. "It's stable. Things don't change so much around here. What you see is what you get. And the diner still serves the best shakes, and Lucky's got a new pool table. They've cleaned up the tennis courts. And there are plenty of trails up in the woods..." Carolyn leans back against the musty motel pillows and sighs. "I do miss it sometimes, you know. In a blue moon. It's not so easy to meet people when you're just breezing through a place on your own." She takes another sip from the mug, both hands wrapped around it. "It's the... impermanence of it all. I won't lie that it doesn't get lonely." "Do you ever want to come back?" "No. It's still a shithole here. But it's a familiar shithole, at least." She rolls her neck back and forth until her spine pops. "They tie you down here. All gossip and obligations and //what-would-the-neighbors-say// and //that's-not-proper.// It's hard to break. But once you do, once you blaze out of this joint—" She snaps her fingers. "You wonder why you didn't sooner." $Name closes her eyes. "I couldn't leave." "Couldn't you? The people here, they're only gonna smother you." [[Change the subject.]] [["You're wrong."|defend ma/groom]] [["I suppose..."|sorta agree]] (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[[Tell her about the fight with the groom.|reveal groom fight]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : town isn't bad)]

(set: $romance to it +2)"I got in a fight with him earlier," $name says, quietly. Carolyn waits. "I didn't want to quit. And he... well, he thinks it's wrong for married women to work. My ma agrees. They've both taken to telling me I'm doing it all wrong, I'll tear the family apart... it's been a bit awful, really." She (if: (history:) contains "take coffee")[sets her mug on the bedside table and ]lies back on the bed, folding her hands over her stomach. The ugly stucco ceiling is stained gray and brown. "I don't know... maybe I should reconsider." "Reconsider quitting?" "No. Just..." she shrugs helplessly. "Reconsider. In general." The sheets shift a bit as the other woman lies back beside her. Carolyn props her head on one hand and watches the bride. "Honestly," Carolyn says, "he sounds like an ass." [["He is."|he's an ass]] [["He's not."|not an ass]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reveal groom fight)]

"I thought you brought me here to talk about something." "Yes." Carolyn sits up straighter. "The changes." "Come on, then. [[Spit it out."|ask about changes]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Change the subject.)]

"It does feel that way sometimes, I guess. It's just... it would be a big decision. A really big one." "So is getting married, and you're headed directly toward that." "Yes." She rubs a hand down the side of her face. "That's true." "Is that why you wanted me here, then?" $name asks. "To talk me out of staying here? Or something about... changes?" Carolyn sits up a little straighter. "They're related, I'd say." "So [[spit it out,|ask about changes]] Carolyn. What changes are you on about?" (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sorta agree)]

(set: $romance to it -2)(if: (history:) contains "town isn't bad")["That's not true. ](else:)["Don't talk about them like that," $name snaps, bristling. "They're not... not some kind of //rope// holding me here." "Aren't they?" "No. ]I could leave, you know, if I wanted. I could just up and walk away. But unlike //some// people I could name, I have connections here. I have responsibilities. I have people I care about. It would be callous." Carolyn chuckles and shakes her head. "That's how they getcha." "You wouldn't know a thing about it. I don't know why I bothered coming here." "And yet," she says, eyes glinting in the warm light, "you did." [[Leave.|leave C]] [[Ask about changes.|ask about changes]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend ma/groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)$Name closes her eyes. "I don't know. Maybe I should've left. Sometimes I consider it, I think maybe I'll just start walking and end up far away..." Carolyn chuckles. "Well, I wouldn't just //walk,// but there are other ways to leave this place." "But I have family here, and a future here. Maybe I can get my fiancé to take me out there someday. That would be good, wouldn't it?" "Would it?" $Name sighs. "I thought maybe we'd travel for the honeymoon. But... well, we're going to Boston." She can practically hear Carolyn rolling her eyes. "Boston. Scintillating." She shifts on the sheets, and when $name opens her eyes, Carolyn is close beside her. The intensity of her gaze almost makes her shrink back. "They tie you down here. All gossip and obligations and //what-would-the-neighbors-say// and //that's-not-proper.// It's hard to break. But once you do, once you blaze out of this joint—" She snaps her fingers. "You wonder why you didn't sooner." [[Change the subject.]] [["You're wrong."|defend ma/groom]] [["I suppose..."|sorta agree]] (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[[Tell her about the fight with the groom.|reveal groom fight]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : idk)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -1)"It's not the same," $name says. "You never wanted to stay here. You never put down roots. You were //able// to just leave like that. Me—well, I've still got family here, my fiancé is here, my future house is here." "Your roots," Carolyn says, "aren't put down yet, either. Real roots are, I don't know... a mortgage, five snot-nosed kids, and a thankless volunteer sunday school teacher position. We all have parents, Barb. We all move away from them eventually. Well—most of us. And the wedding hasn't even happened yet." She drums her fingers against the side of her mug. "Is that what you want?" The bride doesn't answer. "I don't even think they're roots, really. They're hooks. They grab you and pull you down. All gossip and obligations and //what-would-the-neighbors-say// and //that's-not-proper.// It's hard to break, and it might even hurt. But once you do it, once you blaze out of this joint—" She snaps her fingers. "You wonder why you didn't sooner." [["You're wrong."|defend ma/groom]] [["I suppose..."|sorta agree]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : different story)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)$Name lets out a weak little laugh. "...Yeah. Yeah, I suppose he is." "Leave him." $Name is quiet. "Engagement isn't a contract. You can still call it off. Before it actually becomes one." "My ma would kill me." "So? She's not your master. None of them are." Carolyn waves her arms up, gesturing to the sky beyond the grimy ceiling. "The world's big, Barb. It's massive. So huge you wouldn't believe." "Is that why you came back, then? To tell me to leave him? Was that it?" "Not quite. Though it's not... disconnected." "So this is about those [[//changes//|ask about changes]] again. Are you finally gonna tell me what that's all about?" (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : he's an ass)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name shakes her head. "It's not like that. You remember him, don't you? He could really dance... he brought me cocoa when I was up late studying. He asked what I wanted to see when he took me to the movies. We could talk for hours..." "And he still does all that, does he?" $Name looks away. "...No." She sighs. "I just... I want it to go back. I don't know what happened to him, when he was away, but he's been... different. This isn't him. The //real// him—he's got to go back to that." "Say he doesn't. Would you still call him sweetums and sugarpie and let him sweep you down that aisle and stick you in that ring and plop you in that shiny new house he's promised?" The bride is silent. Carolyn spreads her arms toward the ceiling, as if to encompass the sky that lies beyond. "The world's big, Barb. It's massive. So huge you wouldn't believe." She lets them fall. "So much bigger than the prick that's got you locked here." "Is that why you came back, then? To tell me to leave him? Was that it?" Carolyn turns fully toward her on the bed. She lies back beside $name and props her head in her hand. "Not quite. Though it's not... disconnected." "So this is about those [[//changes//|ask about changes]] again. Go on. Spit it out." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : not an ass)]

$Name blinks. There's something sharp inside that grin. Something sharper than teeth. Something black. And there on the sheets, spines. And there beneath that sheer nightshirt, now fallen open, the shadow of a curve. And more than that. Around her face, a strange mottling, a creeping green that steals across her temples. Pearly branching veins all down her fingers and shoulders like the patterns of a bee wing. Dark nubs just below her hairline. $Name swallows hard. (if: $romance is >8)[The furrow in her stomach pulses like it has its own heartbeat.] Carolyn rolls her head back and forth as though loosening cramps. "It's happening all over," she says. "Sad brides like you. Shunned sluts like me. Wives caught with useless husbands. Girls stuck with handsy bosses. Trapped, unhappy bitches, all of us. We're changing." "When did you...?" "College. I thought it was only me. The doctors didn't see it, the professors didn't see it, //you// didn't see it." Her hand still lingers there on $name's arm. "And then I traveled, and I saw. And I heard about your //sweetheart's// stint abroad, and the engagement, and I thought... perhaps you were next." That grin again. "I was right." [["I don't want this."|don't want changes]] [["You're crazy."|call C crazy]] [["What does it mean?"|ask what it means]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : see C's change)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -4)(set: $romance to it -5)"I shouldn't have," the bride says. "I should leave." Carolyn shrugs. "Go ahead. I'm not gonna keep you here." $Name pulls herself up from the bed and backs away, half expecting Carolyn to follow. But she just lounges on the bed, watching $name shuffle away with hooded, half-lidded eyes. "Just let me be." $Name grasps the door handle. "Get out of town. Nobody wants you here anyway." "'Bye, Barbara," Carolyn says, and there's a touch of sadness in her voice. Outside, the rain thunders down. A bus at the stop across the parking lot chuffs to a stop. $Name dodges across the puddle-peppered lot and slips out of the downpour. The bus pulls out of the stop just as she realizes she left her umbrella in the motel room. [[Too late|stewing on bus ride]] now. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave C)]

(set: $romance to it -3)"Am I?" She taps $name's spine twice and withdraws her hand. "Look for it. You'll see." "It's—it can't be natural. It's some kind of, I don't know..." "What, hallucination? A //mass// hallucination?" Carolyn chuckles. "If you say so." "It just doesn't make any sense." Carolyn lifts one hand and examines the strange veins that web across it. "Maybe we just don't have the reason yet." "So you came flouncing back here, caused all this ruckus, made a whole big deal of things, just to tell me you //don't know?"// "It's happening everywhere, Barbara. I don't know what it is, but it's important. Us changelings—whatever's happening, whatever we are—we're connected. Besides," she adds with a shrug, "if you weren't curious, you wouldn't have come here." [[Leave.|leave C]] [["How do I get rid of it?"|how to stop changes]] [["You must have a theory..."|the mantis myth]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : call C crazy)]

(set: $romance to it +3)"I'm not sure yet." Carolyn lies back again. "I'm no scientist. Not a priest, either." "You think it's a—a blessing?" $Name finds her eyes drawn again to the familiar furrow beneath the other woman's shirt—so odd on someone else. (if: $romance is >8)[Her chest is bare above it. She tries to look away again, and fails.] Carolyn shrugs. "Not a clue. It's only just started, whatever it is. Only in the last few years. We're the first." "First of what, though?" She just shrugs again. "Who can say?" The patter of the rain outside tickles $name's insides. Carolyn must feel it too, she thinks. [[Carolyn's felt the same.|the mantis myth]] "But what do you //think?"// (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask what it means)]

(set: $romance to it -3)$Name snatches Carolyn's wrist, then drops it like a hot iron at the glimpse of the strange veins again. Instead, she presses her hands against her temples. "I don't want to be a—a—whatever //that// is." "It doesn't hurt, Barbara," Carolyn says. She lifts the hand that $name grabbed above her and turns it in the light, admiring the pattern. "It feels like... the most natural thing. Like slipping into a bath." "It's //not// natural," $name says. "Of course it's not natural. It can't be. And other people are going to notice //some//time and they'll make me get surgery or—or—" "Calm down." Carolyn pats $name's shoulder. "Those who notice it... I think maybe they have to be changing themselves. Nobody's tried chucking //me// in the loony bin or on the operating table yet." "That's not the point," the bride snaps. "You're different. You're—you're—" "What, a weirdo?" Carolyn laughs. "And you've been so happy //not// being one. We're all weirdos now." [["How do I get rid of it?"|how to stop changes]] [["What do you think is happening?"|ask what it means]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't want changes)]

Carolyn pauses. She stares hard at the ceiling, as though trying to decode a message in the cracks of the cheap stucco. "When you were young," the other woman says at last, "did you ever chase bugs?" "What?" "Well, did you?" $Name frowns. "Yes..." "I was a bug girl through and through. I'd put in little leaves and sticks and shit in a mason jar and try to keep those little guys alive. Only sometimes worked." She chuckles and shakes her head. "A lotta the time, they just ate each other. Especially if one of them was a mantis." $Name watches her, carefully, unsure of what to say. Carolyn folds her hands over her stomach, above the furrow in her flesh. "They were tough, those bugs. Tough, and hungry. Ate everything from bees to lizards." "What does this have to do with—?" "I had an encyclopedia," she adds. "I read all about them. I still remember it." She closes her eyes and recites: "Mantis, noun; 17th century, modern Latin, from Greek: 'prophet.'" $Name's mouth is dry. "You're saying," she says slowly, "that we're turning into mantises." "You asked what I thought." Carolyn shrugs. "That's all I have." Silence hangs over them. Carolyn drums her fingers on the edges of that strange, fleshy furrow. [["You're not making sense."|C not sensical]] [["Could be..."|maybe mantis?]] (if: $romance is >15)[[[Ask to touch it.|touch furrow]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : the mantis myth)]

(set: $romance to it +1)"I guess I don't have anything better," $name says at last. She rolls her head away from Carolyn and gives a weak laugh. "Turning into //bugs.// My God." "It's not all bad," Carolyn says. "They're something new, these changes. Sound that turns into feeling. Who ever knew?" She giggles. "I've thought about it a lot, and I've come to the conclusion that it's exciting. Whatever it is, we're on the front edge of it. On the brink. We're riding a wave here that nobody else can see. Well, almost nobody." [[It //is// exciting.|exciting changes]] [[It's frightening.|scary changes]] [[It's bad.|bad changes]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : maybe mantis?)]

(set: $romance to it +2)In a small, shaky voice, $name asks, "can I touch it?" Carolyn blinks at her. "Touch what?" "Your... your furrow. The thing... we have. In our stomachs." The other woman smiles. No smirk this time—just an open smile, wide and clear and simple. "Tympana," she says softly. She takes $name's hand in her own and places it on her torso, where the skin buckles into the tear-shaped fold. $Name lets out a shuddery breath. It feels so soft. So much like //hers.// Carolyn guides her fingers up and down the length of it with a warm, steady touch. "You start hearing things differently." She stretches lazily on the bed beneath $name's hand. "And then you feel things differently... sound becomes feeling... and feeling sound... and it feels good. It feels good." [[Pull back and leave.|Pull back.]] [[Kiss her.|kiss!]] (if: $romance is >20)[[["Touch me."|ask for touch]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : touch furrow)]

She leans back in the squeaky leather seat and watches the windshield wipers toss water back and forth. The radio crackles about summer storms and Russian spies. He drives her out to the small strip mall on the edge of town. A smoke shop, a beauty parlor, and far down the way, through the thickening curtain of rain: a blinking neon sign advertising the Motocar Motel. In front of them sits Bella Aria Intimate Photography. The car rumbles to a stop. He clicks it off. Rain pounds on the metal roof. "Come on, then. I'm ready to see you look //really// fine." "Oh—ah," she says, but he's already stepped outside. He holds the car door open for her. "After you, //m'lady."// Water soaks her shoes as she steps out into the puddle-pocked parking lot. She pauses, squinting toward the motel, but he takes her by the hand and pulls her [[inside.|inside studio]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : to the photoshoot)]

The interior is bright, lined with crushed velvet armchairs and framed photographs advertising the company's work. As the groom speaks to a large and toothy man at the front desk, the bride drifts around the little waiting room, gazing at the images of women swooning in lace panties and hiding behind thin bedsheets. The toothy man shows her to a changing room while they set up the camera equipment. She has to admit it feels luxurious, like a closet-sized Hollywood suite. A mirror rimmed with yellow bulbs, stacks of magazines, a rack of lingerie with the chosen outfits tagged. "Slip into somethin' sweet, darlin,'" the man says, then pulls the privacy curtain closed. Her spines threaten to rip the lace as she struggles into a tight teddy. It squishes her hips and pinches her pubes. She tugs at the seams until they make worrisome crackling noises. The crotch (sanitized with a plastic sticker, to her relief) crinkles with every movement. As she waits, she thumbs through the magazines: twirling women framed by gowns white as teeth, smiling and smiling. In the changing room mirror she practices her own, holds up the glossy pinups to compare. Somehow the stretch of her lips doesn’t look right beside them, hers more shoelaces than ribbons. $Name turns the mag over, face-down, to hide the glazed grins. She [[closes her eyes.|think of C]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : inside studio)]

The whine of the beauty lights overhead echoes through her abdomen, a soft purr, like an itch behind her stomach wall, like the drone of a bee bumping against the insides of a jar. The rain is muffled in here, but the motel down the way draws her mind like iron to a magnet. She could just leave. She could walk out into the downpour in her suffocating teddy and find Carolyn out there. The curtain clinks open. It's a girl with a bag of makeup, no older than high school, chomping gum. "I'mma make you look perfect, doll," she says. "Sit still." $Name turns to the mirror again after the makeup girl leaves. She made quick work: gone is the birthmark on $name's shoulder, the acne scar above her brow. She'd darkened her lips. Outlined her eyes in sharp black. It's not long before the toothy man appears to take her to [[the shoot.|photo room]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : think of C)]

Her nails bite her palms as she squeezes her fists in frustration. "I mean it, Carolyn. Stop playing with me. I want this—all of this—gone." Carolyn sobers. "Okay, fine. I've seen it fade, sometimes. You keep going about the life you've picked, keep finding ways to stay stuck... they'll fall away, yes. And you'll be a cheery little wife again. It's your choice." She flips her fingers as if swatting away a bug. "But don't be so sure that's a good thing." "You sound like you [[have a theory."|the mantis myth]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : how to stop changes)]

"I don't know how you can be //excited,"// $name says, lifting her eyes to the ceiling again. "I'm scared, Carolyn. It can't be natural, and it's coming from nowhere..." "It's coming from us—inside of us," Carolyn says. "And it doesn't hurt, it doesn't sting. It feels natural to me." "What if I want it to stop?" "Well." Carolyn sighs. "I've seen it fade, sometimes. You keep going about the life you've picked, keep finding ways to stay stuck... they'll fall away, yes. And you'll be a cheery little wife again. It's your choice." She flips her fingers as if swatting away a bug. "But don't be so sure that's a good thing." [["Maybe not..."|travel question]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : scary changes)]

(set: $romance to it +1)A little shiver of elation passes over her. "Yeah," she whispers. "Something new." Maybe even something with wings, to carry her far up, far beyond this little town and its tightness. High enough to touch those sky-bound peaks Carolyn has seen, far enough to land on [[distant shores.|travel question]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : exciting changes)]

"What if it's evil? What if we're being—I don't know, cursed for something? This can't be natural." "Mantises are //good// luck, Barb. Some people say they're guardian angels." "That's just folktale superstition. This—" she grabs at her stomach, at her spines, and shudders. "—is too real. What if I want it gone? What if I want it to go away?" "Well." Carolyn sighs. "I've seen it fade, sometimes. You keep going about the life you've picked, keep finding ways to stay stuck... they'll fall away, yes. And you'll be a cheery little wife again. It's your choice." She flips her fingers as if swatting away a bug. "But don't be so sure that's a good thing." [["Maybe not..."|travel question]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : bad changes)]

Carolyn shrugs. "I never claimed to know what's going on. But what's happening to us—all of us—is important, and I wanted you to know. I thought it might be happening to you, too, and I was right." She pats $name's shoulder. "You're not //happy,// Barbara. I came as much because of that as because of the changes." [["I //am// happy."|protest happy]] [["You're right."|agree unhappy]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C not sensical)]

(if: (history:) contains "tentatively warm")["Carolyn," $name says, "did you mean it? That you wanted to take me along when you left?" Carolyn looks at her, a slight wrinkle in her brow. "Of course. It's not always a grand adventure, setting out alone. It's... well, it's awful lonely, sometimes. Why?"](else:)["Are you just going to leave again?" $name asks at last. "Now that you've told me?" Carolyn chuckles. "I came back to this dump to see //you,// Barb. I never planned to stick around." $Name chews her lip. "I bet it gets lonely, doesn't it?" "On the road?" Carolyn sighs. "It can be. Long hours driving... but I wouldn't give it up, Barb, not even for you. Not if it meant staying //here.// Why d'you ask?"] [["What if I wanted to come along?"|join C?]] [["No reason."|deflect]] [["I've been thinking of leaving as well."|leave town?]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : travel question)]

(set: $romance to it +3)Carolyn turns fully to her, rolling sideways on the bed. Her dark teeth glint inside her smile. "Why, Barbara," she says. "Don't you dare let the old biddies hear you say //that.// They'll think I've slipped you something." $Name sighs. "Sorry. It was a stupid question." "No, not at all." (if: $romance is >10)[Carolyn's hand slides into hers, locking their fingers together.](else:)[Carolyn chuckles.] "I'd take you. Of //course// I'd take you." [["I'd like that."|wants to leave with C]] [["I need to think about it."|think about it]] (if: $romance is >15)[[[Ask to touch her.|touch furrow]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : join C?)]

(set: $romance to it -1)"Oh, I was just curious." $Name closes her eyes. "I guessed you wouldn't be around long." "Well, that's my way now." She hears Carolyn shift a little on the sheets. "Maybe I'll go north this time. Haven't been to Canada yet." In her mind's eye she can see that banged-up little car puttering through the mountains. Carolyn in the front seat, windows down. Fresh air and the winter chill. "Yeah. That'll be nice." "I'll probably blast off tomorrow morning." She sighs and leans back. "You're free to go, if you'd like." (if: $romance >15)[[[Ask to touch her.|touch furrow]](if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[ [[Leave to find the groom.|gotta talk to G]] [[Go home.|gotta go home]]]](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[[Leave to find the groom.|gotta talk to G]] [[Go home.|gotta go home]]](else:)A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : deflect)]

"Really." Carolyn's eyebrows rise a little. "A bit. Yeah." She swallows. "You've been talking about the mountains and things and, well, I've never really traveled. If I don't now, I'm worried I never will." "Take my advice, then." She puts up one finger. "You've got to get a car, for one thing. Any car will do. Whatever junk you can afford. You'll learn to fix it. If it runs, drive." She lifts another. "They'll try to stop you. Of course they will. Just drive, baby, just drive away. You let them pull you back and you'll never hit the road again." She raises a third finger. "Most importantly. Don't eat at the McDonald's by mile 70. You'll be shitting cubes for a //week."// $Name chuckles. "Noted." They sit in warm silence for a moment. The rain continues outside, unabated. (if: $romance is >15)[[[Ask to touch her.|touch furrow]]](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[Carolyn draws a low breath. "Barbara, I..." A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave town?)]

(set: $romance to it +3)$Name smiles. "That... that would be wonderful." She can feel it already—the crackling stereo, the wind in her hair, Carolyn whistling in that girlish, carefree way she did on the first days of spring on campus. Snow-capped peaks rising on the horizon, or maybe red stone arches, or the skyscrapers of a far-off city. The ocean beating against the coast. Ferris wheels. Great steaming geysers. Flaming sunsets across clear skies. And all this—this whole nuptial //mess//—far, far behind her. Carolyn is watching her, a smile playing with the edges of her mouth. "I think so too." (if: $romance is <15)[(if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]] [["When do we leave?"|travel plan]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.]](else:)[[["When do we leave?"|travel plan]] [[Ask to touch her.|touch furrow]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : wants to leave with C)]

Both women jump. Carolyn is on her feet in an instant. She strides to the peephole and peers through it, wrapping her nightshirt tightly around herself. "It's that damned prickly beau of yours," she says. "The fuck is he doing here?" $Name's heartbeat rises into her throat. Each thump on the door rattles through her stomach(if: (history:) contains "ask for touch" or (history:) contains "kiss!")[, bludgeoning out the echoes of the pleasant buzz that so recently filled her]. She puts a hand on her chest, trying to breathe evenly. In three beats. Out three beats. Another hard thump rattles the door. Carolyn presses both hands against the flimsy wood. "What do I //do?// He's gonna knock this damn thing down!" "I'll see him, I'll see him. Just—give me a moment." (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[She straightens and buttons her rumpled clothes, pats her hair to smooth it down, wipes her mouth.](else-if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[She smooths down her rumpled clothes and wipes her mouth.] Then she stands and draws herself to her full height. [["Let him in."|groom is pissed]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom has followed!)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $romance to it -2)"I'm happy, I am," $name says. "It's just... a complicated time right now. Once this wedding happens and the stress is gone..." Carolyn sighs and shakes her head. "You keep telling yourself that, babe," she says, "and you'll shed those changes in no time." "Now what's that supposed to mean?" The other woman shrugs. "It's [[what you want,|how to stop changes]] right?" (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : protest happy)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +3)(set: $numProactive to it +3)(set: $romance to it +2)$Name sighs. "I suppose. I thought maybe it was just the wedding... we're all stressed, there's a lot happening, but now I don't know. I just don't know." "You can leave. It's not too late." "I just..." "Come with me, Barbara. I'm blasting outta this place again soon. Tomorrow, maybe. Throw in the towel, leave the dress and that ass of a fiancé. We'll be over the border before the organ plays." [["That'd be nice."|wants to leave with C]] [["I need to think about it."|think about it]] [["No. I couldn't.|couldn't leave]] (Node : agree unhappy)

"This is happening too fast. I need time to think." "Your wedding is tomorrow, Barbara. The time to think is draining." "I know, I just... please. I can't make this decision now." Carolyn sits back and groans. "Fine. But I'm not sticking around longer than I need to while you hem and haw." (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : think about it)]

"It's crazy to even consider this. I can't just throw everything here in the trash. You keep telling me to leave, but—it's just not that simple." "It could be." "No. You're getting in my head. I don't //want// to leave. I don't." Carolyn gives her a small, sad smile. "Whatever you say, Barb. Whatever you say. Either way, I'll be gone tomorrow." (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I should talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : couldn't leave)]

"Tomorrow morning," Carolyn says. "From here. Early as you can make it. Don't bring much, Barb. Some clothes, practical ones. Toiletries. We'll work on the road, buy what we can for you once we're outta here." She pauses. "And I guess leave a note. So your parents don't think you've //actually// been kidnapped. Though they might call the fuzz all the same." $Name feels like she stands above a great cliff. Wind blowing in her face. A long flight ahead, or a long fall. Somehow, she doesn't care which. Her heartbeat's in her ears. "Okay," she hears herself whisper. "Okay." Carolyn pauses. For a moment, silence hangs over them. (if: $romance >15)[(if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]]] [[Ask to touch her.|touch furrow]]](else:)[(if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : travel plan)]

(set: $romance to it -3)$Name pulls her hand back. She sits up and scoots away, shaking her head. "No—no. I shouldn't have touched you, I'm sorry—this is wrong." Carolyn stares at her, surprised. She props herself up on one elbow. "What are you talking about?" "It's—it's inappropriate, I shouldn't have—I forgot myself—" The other woman shakes her head. "It's //fine,// Barbara." (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[["I need to talk to my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pull back)]

(set: $girlfriend to true)"Touch me, Carolyn," $name murmurs. "I want to feel it too. I want to feel—you." Carolyn slides close to her on the bed. Her hands are quick and gentle. "I thought you'd never ask." Carolyn's thin nightshirt has long since fallen open, her chest bare beneath. Dimly, $name notices that her own (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[dress](else:)[blouse] has come unbuttoned—or perhaps she unbuttoned it. But as Carolyn presses herself against $name, $name can't find it matters all that much. All she knows is Carolyn's warm, rough skin, the way her fingers ghost along the tympana that now rub and slip against each other as their bodies press close, how their spines clink together like quiet wind chimes on their arms. She finds she doesn't mind how the other woman's hands creep down, to other, unexplored places, and the way she presses her lips against $name's—no, $name doesn't mind. She doesn't mind at all. (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[[Ask to stay the night.|ask to stay]] [["I need to speak with my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask for touch)]

(set: $girlfriend to true)$Name's fingers pause at the crest of the teardrop shape. She raises herself up on one elbow on the bed. The other woman's breathing slows as she gazes up at $name with those dark eyes. Carolyn's hand slides up around the curve of $name's neck. "Carolyn, I—I want to kiss you." "Then get on with it, babe." And she does, their hands entwining, hair falling from her pins and into their faces, murmuring half-words in the breaths between the press of their lips. (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[[[Ask to stay the night.|ask to stay]] [["I need to speak with my fiancé."|gotta talk to G]] [["I should go home."|gotta go home]]](else:)[A loud [[bang|groom has followed!]] rattles the door.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : kiss!)]

He leads her to a room divided into artful sets: lush velvet chairs, fur rugs, arrangements of fake flowers, gilded mirrors, feather fans, and large luxurious beds, their sheets artfully touseled. The lights overhead glare in stark white beams, "for clarity," the man explains. Great chunky cameras stare down at the first set, where the groom waits in a smart black suit. He grins when he sees her and puts his hands on her waist as soon as she's within reach. "Brighten those eyes, kitten," he says, voice husky. "We're going for the sultry look." They don't notice her face flush beneath her layer of makeup. They don't notice the way her spines glint and shine in the stark studio lights. They barely see her, she thinks, as they guide her back and forth between sets. Here, straddle the velvet chair. Splay those legs. Throw your head back. Get in the bed. This'll be come-hither. Now a shy one. Look over your shoulder. Perk those tits. There, put your hand on her ass. Now let's have her kneel. More thigh. Mouth shut. Lips turned down. [[Perfect.|session's end]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : photo room)]

He drives her to Nancy Wester's house, on the corner with its perfectly pruned bushes and grass cut to a cleanly length. The window frames look freshly painted in bright robin's-egg blue, matched to the flowered drapes hung inside. The smell of something baking carries even through the musk of rain. "Enjoy," the groom mutters as she steps out of the car. He watches her climb the steps and only zooms away once she [[knocks.|Bible house]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : to Bible study)]

Nancy's at the door the moment she knocks. She hasn't changed much since high school: still short, blonde, and partial to full-skirted dresses—only now, those dresses sport clean white aprons over top as well. Her makeup, as always, is impeccable. "Barbara, hi!" she says. She takes $name by the hand and pulls her inside. "My, it's //wretched// out there.(if: (history:) contains "arrive at Bible study")[ Was that your lovely hubs-to-be? What a dear to drive you.]" The study group has already gathered in the living room. Some sip tea or nibble on the plate of pastries in the center of the low table. (if: $graduate is true)[Franny sits in the corner, looking out at the rain with sleepy eyes. (if: $quit is true)[She glances at $name as she enters, then back to the weather outside, drumming her fingers on the Bible in her lap.](else:)[She gives $name a little wave and a smile as she enters.]] She watches the others' faces carefully as she makes her way to the group. No gasps of shock or cries of disbelief at her prominent spines. Nobody looks twice. Most of these women she's known since high school as well: Delilah, seated by the fireplace, played the flute; Gertrude, in the checkered blouse, had led her math class; Beth, with the halo of curls, once dreamed of being a thespian on the big stage(if: $graduate is false)[; quiet little Franny, in the corner, always wanted to be a high-power businesswoman in some great firm]. She's forgotten their new last names, or whether they all have them. $Name seats herself on the edge of the couch. She slowly, deliberately extends an arm to take a pastry from the tray. Not even a second glance, even as the spines glint between them. They just go on [[talking.|conversation]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Bible house)]

"Barbara," Delilah says, as Nancy flits back to the kitchen, "I'm glad to see you, hon, but why on earth are you here? Shouldn't you be prepping for the wedding tomorrow?" She leans forward to emphasize her point. "It's almost your //big day."// Another woman nods. "Why, the eve of mine, I couldn't //stand,// I was so nervous." [["I needed a break."|needed break]] [["My fiancé wanted me to do some boudoir thing."|reveal boudoir]] [["I'm done prepping."|done prepping]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : conversation)]

"What's a boudoir?" Delilah asks, forehead creasing. "They pose you like those boys' magazines do," Gertrude says. She sniffs. "With barely //anything// on. In front of some strange photographer. It's playing at prostitute, in my book." "Well, it's not like he would've //shown// anyone..." "But if that's what he wanted," Beth says, "why did you say no?" //"I// didn't want to." "Rightfully." Gertrude sets down her teacup with a sharp clatter. "It's inappropriate. No woman should //debase// herself like that." "But it's for her //husband,"// Delilah says. "Oh, men ask for the wildest things sometimes." "I think you should've done it." Beth takes a terse bite of her Danish. "It's rude to refuse. What if he starts looking //elsewhere?"// "Make him happy in all the other ways," Gertrude says. "The after-six-o'clock ways, if you catch what I'm saying. Then he won't even need those horrid gentlemen's mags I'm always finding." "Maybe it's nice to get prettied up, though," Franny says from the corner. "Just for fun. Not for a lad mag or anything. That part's not so bad, is it?" [["It is."|pretty up bad]] [["Maybe not."|not so bad]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reveal boudoir)]

"Oh, I'll get back to it soon, I just... needed a break." $Name takes a Danish from the table's selection. "Something to get my mind off dresses and back on God." "It's easy to forget," Beth says with a tinkling laugh. "Behind all this glamor and prettying up and dresses, it's a holy thing." "All these bridal magazines make you forget there will be a //priest// there too," Delilah says. "What with all the menu planning and appeasing the families and all that." Nods go around the circle. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : needed break)]

Delilah blinks and puts her teacup into its saucer with a clean little clink. "The prepping is //never// done, Barb. Right up to the ceremony, it's perfume and skincare and mouthwash and shaving—no stone unturned. It needs to be perfect." "Ohh, the //shaving."// Beth puts a slim hand to her forehead. "The ingrown hairs!" "I was douching a //week// beforehand." Gertrude chimes in. "Just to be sure I was pristine. It //stung.// But what're you gonna do?" The circle murmurs sympathies. "Take my word," Gertrude says. "Don't use the fresh lemon scent." "I read," Beth adds, "that you should choose the scent of the flowers he brings you most often." "Oh, clever." Delilah scribbles on her notepad. "Being //thoughtful//—that's the mark of a good wife, isn't it? And what's more thoughtful than keeping your womanhood immaculate..." [["Not if it stings."|contrary]] [["Of course."|agree thoughtful]] [["I hadn't thought about it."|didn't think]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : done prepping)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $franFriend to it +3)"I don't know." $Name takes a Danish from the pastry assortment on the table. "Not if it's that //painful.// That's not worth it." "Oh, honey." Gertrude stares at her. "You'd rather go into your special night smelling like a //dead fish?// And about as hygienic as one!" The circle titters, except Fran, who watches her carefully. $Name presses forward. "You know those ads exaggerate to hell and back. My ma's been circling them for weeks. It's all nonsense, Gertie." "Only if you don't use it right, hon. You should listen to your ma. She'd know these things." "Any experienced woman would," Beth says. "And my husband //loves// it." "I don't think mine notices," Delilah grumbles. "It's not worth it," $name says again. The others ignore her this time. But Franny gives her a small smile. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : contrary)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)"Oh. Oh yes." Her mother had been circling the douche ads for weeks, but the bride had put it off, and put it off... "When is one supposed to start using it?" "Well, as soon as possible. Don't tell me you've been //forgetting."// Gertrude blinks at her. "It's not a 'now-and-then' treatment, Barb. It's just //hygiene.// You wouldn't forget to brush your teeth, would you?" "'His many neglects were due to her one neglect,'" Beth adds, "'that few husbands can forgive.' That's what Lysol says, anyway." "Marketing," Franny mutters, still facing the window. "I've heard not keeping up can lose his love," Delilah says. She drops her voice to a loud whisper. "Or lead to //divorce."// Gertrude nods sagely. "Any woman who neglects herself is bound to live alone eventually. Disinfect, disinfect, disinfect. That's the word, Barbara." $Name mumbles an affirmative and stirs her tea, watching the little cloud rise. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : agree thoughtful)]

Gertrude's eyes widen. "Well, you had better start now! It's //tomorrow.// Maybe after studying we can shop. You don't want to go into your special night full of //germs."// "What flowers does he bring you, Barb?" Beth asks. $Name stares into her teacup. It used to be flowers he plucked from the field behind campus, little bundles that she loved for how carefully he chose them. They stayed in her room for weeks, long after they'd withered—and being the sentimental girl she was, she couldn't throw them away. Not until her roommates complained. Now, though, the store's selection was easiest, and it was always the same. "Roses, normally..." "Romantic!" Beth nods. "A classic." "Plenty of selection for that one." From the corner, Franny pipes up. "Is it really necessary?" "Of course it is." Gertrude gives her a sharp look. "You're not hitched //yet,// Francis, but you'll understand when your love proposes." [[Contradict her.|contrary]] [[Stay quiet.|don't contradict]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : didn't think)]

Rain slides by in shuddering streaks on the bus window. $Name presses her forehead against the cold glass. A good chunk of her afternoon wasted, and for what? That bitch Carolyn to insult and belittle her yet again? It was stupid to let Carolyn entice her with her strange, empty promises and mystical woo-woo about "changes." It was all a con. She's sure of that now. [[Go find the groom.|find groom]] [[Go to Bible study.|go to Bible study]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : stewing on bus ride)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriend to it -2)$Name crinkles her nose. "Gertrude's right, Fran. It's degrading. Distasteful." //"Thank// you." Gertrude nodes. "Look, you forgive your man for these indiscretions. But they're indiscretions all the same." Beth harrumphs but doesn't say anything else. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pretty up bad)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $franFriend to it +2)"It could be." $Name lets her eyes drift for a moment, imagining the delicate lace, the lush fur rugs and flowers, how nice it might be to sprawl in those sheets and bare her body for the sheer rush of it. Yet somehow it withers when she pictures the groom looking on, that hungry smile on his lips, or a faceless camera man flashing bulbs. "The glamor of it... I think I could enjoy that. Not for him, though." Gertrude groans. "Oh, Barbara, don't encourage her. It's indecent. It's sluttish." She gives an exaggerated shudder. "No good Christian woman would set //foot// in one of those slime traps." But Franny gives her a faint smile from across the room, and $name's next bite of Danish tastes especially fresh. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : not so bad)]

Nancy taps her chin with one long finger. "Well, I was thinking we'd read some Corinthians today. But with Barbara here, perhaps we should take a look at some of the Lord's nuptial wisdom." "Ephesians!" Delilah says, rifling through her Bible. "We had those read at our wedding. 5:15—no, 5:20..." The ruffling of paper fills the room. $Name thumbs through her own Bible as Delilah begins to read aloud. But her mind is elsewhere, somewhere out in the rain that continues to pour outside, leaving shaky water trails down the glass as it falls. Words about weddings, about husbands and wives, marriage this and marriage that, grind to nothing in her ears under the low rumble of thunder beyond the glass. The study session ends late in the afternoon. There are well-wishes, a few "see you tomorrow"s, a few hugs. (if: (history:) contains "done prepping")["Don't forget to douche," Gertrude whispers in her ear as she draws back from a weak embrace.] (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[She steps outside, half-expecting to see the silver gleam of the Dodge across the street, polished clean from the rain. But the groom is nowhere to be seen, of course. Not after their fight. Which means that he's still stewing, probably over an Old Fashioned. The temptation to return home twists in her chest. But this can't be how they end the final night before their marriage. At the very least, it's time they talked. A few things to straighten out. Sighing, she turns to make her way down the street toward [[his apartment.|find groom]]](else-if: (history:) contains "hide kept" and (history:) contains "late to Bible study")[She steps outside and stops short. There, across the street, is the gleam of the silver Dodge, polished by the rain. Why is he here? She'd said she was going to see Carolyn, that bitch who'd only wanted to tie her into knots for the fun of it. He knew there was a Bible study today, she supposes, and must have deduced... With a swallow, she makes her way toward where he's [[waiting.|groom here]]](else:)[When she emerges from the house, the groom is [[waiting outside|groom here]] to pick her up.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Bible talk)]

(if: (history:) contains "pretty up bad")[(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)]Nancy (if: (history:) contains "press point")[clicks her tongue](else:)[emerges from the kitchen]. "Well, that's not all the news. (if: $graduate is false)[I was at Schmitt's Grocery earlier today](else:)[I was talking to my cousin, Kellen's clerk,] and what would you know it, it seems our Barbara here is still working." Eyebrows rise around the circle. "Why on earth are you still at that place, Barb?" Delilah asks. "I just want some money for myself." "Whatever will your husband say?" (if: (history:) contains "hide kept")[[["I haven't told him."|kept truth hidden]] ][["He'll support me."|husband support]] [["It doesn't matter."|hub's opinion irrelevant]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : kept work convo)]

(if: (history:) contains "didn't think" or (history:) contains "pretty up bad")[(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)](if: (history:)contains "press point")[Nancy clicks her tongue.](else:)[Nancy emerges from the kitchen. ]"Well, that's not all the news. (if: $graduate is false)[I was at Schmitt's Grocery earlier today](else:)[I was talking to my cousin, Kellen's clerk,] and what would you know it, it seems our Barbara finally pulled out of work." Beth breaks into applause. "Finally! I was worried you'd keep it." "I'm not sure why you got a job to begin with, Barb, really," Gertrude says. "Your father's more than well enough off to keep you fed without one. I mean, college, that makes sense—getting the M.R.S. degree and all—but an actual job?" [["I just wanted to."|wanted job]] [["It was silly of me."|silly job]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : work quit convo)]

A murmur rises around the circle. "You what?" Nancy says. "I... didn't want to stress him out." "You do realize he'll find out sooner or later," Beth says, sounding a little strangled. "What on earth are you playing at?" "I know. I'm not //never// going to tell him. Just—later." Several of the group members share disbelieving looks. Franny eyes her from the corner, a strange quirk to the corners of her lips. Beth shakes her head. "That's //lying,// Barbara. Lying by omission. A good woman is honest." "A good woman would have quit that damned job," Gertrude says, and others nod. [[Object.|object to G]] [[Stay quiet.|convo move on]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : kept truth hidden)]

"I think he'll support me." At least, once upon a time, he'd said he would. She crosses her fingers behind her teacup. //"Your// fiancé?" Gertrude gives a high laugh. "He's a proud man. Don't you see how this'll be a slap in his face?" Delilah nods. "He drinks with my dear husband sometimes, and... I don't know. George says he's got a temper, Barb. He won't be happy. Not happy at all. What if he gets angry, like, physically?" She drops her voice. "I know gals who've been //hit// for less." [["He wouldn't do that."|peaceful groom]] [["I'd fight back."|would fight groom]] [["I'd leave him."|would leave groom]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : husband support)]

$Name tosses her head back. "What does it matter? It's not //his// call. Not //his// job. He has his own to worry about, and I'll do just as I please." The women around her exchange shocked glances. From the corner, Franny cracks a smile. "Barb," Gertrude says slowly, as though explaining letters to a child, "it's //his// house, //his// family, and you are //his// wife. It's more his call than it is yours, really." "And don't let him hear you talk like that," Delilah says, glancing around like the groom might pop out from behind the piano. "I know gals who've been //hit// for less." [["He wouldn't do that."|peaceful groom]] [["I'd fight back."|would fight groom]] [["I'd leave him."|would leave groom]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : hub's opinion irrelevant)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +1)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"I wanted it." $Name shrugs. "And it was nice while I had it. Some money for myself, to buy whatever I wanted..." Gertrude snorts. "I'm sure your daddy would've given you whatever cash you needed." "Maybe, but that's not the point." She sighs. "And it was good to be busy, to have something to do..." "Well," Nancy says briskly, "that doesn't matter now. What matters is that you quit." "Much healthier." Delilah sips from her teacup. "Better for you //and// your man." A flutter of motion catches $name's eye as Franny slips out of the room. She can't see her face. The bathroom door slams down the hall. [[Ignore it.|ignore fran]] [[Check on her.|check on fran]] [["What's up with her?"|ask about fran]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : wanted job)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -1)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name takes a sip of her tea. Understeeped. "Oh, I don't know. It was silly, now that I think of it. I didn't //need// one." "They're a good way to meet guys," Beth says. "But you already had one." Delilah nods. "That's how I met dear George. Served him a burger at the diner and he was smitten." She laughs. "He likes //my// patties better." Everyone chuckles. "Get their hearts through their stomachs," Nancy says, shaking her head, "as always." A flutter of motion catches $name's eye as Franny slips out of the room. She can't see her face. The bathroom door slams down the hall. [[Ignore it.|ignore fran]] [[Check on her.|check on fran]] [["What's up with her?"|ask about fran]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : silly job)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $numDocile to it +1)$Name stares down the hallway after the girl, but she doesn't reappear. "Franny needs to decide what she wants," Gertrude says, dropping her voice. "If she //wants// to be a spinster, well, she should keep that useless job. But that poor boy she's leading on—" The other women lean in as well. "Adam," Beth says. "He's a sweet kid. I think he might propose. But no man wants a //distracted// wife, you know?" [[Defend Franny.|defend fran]] [[Stay quiet.|don't defend]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ignore fran)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"Well, excuse me, everyone. I think //I// need the bathroom." The group looks up at her. "You'd best use the one in the bedroom, a few doors down the hall past that," Nancy says. "Franny's worked up about something. I bet she'll be gone for a bit."(if: $graduate is true)[ "You should talk to her," Gertrude adds. "You two worked together and all. I bet //you// could dissuade her."] As $name makes her way to the hall, the others continue talking in low voices. "That boy she's leading on—" "—still wants to be a secretary?" "—maladjusted, if you ask me—" $Name knocks on the bathroom door. "Franny?" she says softly. There's a moment of silence. "Barbara?" "Yes, it's me. Can I come in?" (if: $franFriend >8)[Franny [[opens the door.|speak to fran]]](else:)["Leave me be," Franny says from the other side. Her voice sounds slightly choked. "I don't want to see you." "I just—" "Go away." $Name tries the knob, but the door is locked. With a sigh, she [[returns|no dice on fran]] to the living room.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : check on fran)]

$Name blinks. "What's up with Franny?" "Let her go." Nancy rolls her eyes. "She's just flighty. I'm not sure why she comes to my study groups sometimes. She barely says anything. I think her pa makes her come." "Maybe she just has to go to the bathroom." "Well... I think work talk gives her willies," Beth says, staring after her. "She's got that little law office job (if: $graduate is true)[in that place you worked, Barb, ]and that sweet boy hanging onto her as well. If you ask me, she has some unhealthy aspirations. She knows what //I// think about it, anyway." Gertrude nods in agreement. "Her father wants us to be a good influence, I'm sure of it. We have to discourage this kind of thing." [[Check on Franny.|check on fran]] [[Ignore Franny.|ignore fran]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about fran)]

"Can I, er... come in?" She pauses, then holds the door open. $Name steps into the small bathroom and sits carefully on the edge of the tub. The shower curtain sports little yellow ducks. Franny's eyes are slightly reddish around the edges. "What is it?" "I just wanted to see how you were doing. You left in a hurry. Are you okay?" "No," Franny snaps. She sinks down on the toilet seat and covers her face with both hands. "They're //always// like this. Telling me I'm too young to get anything and I'm doing this or that wrong. I'm everyone's stupid kid sister. And this //marriage// stuff, well—" She shakes her head. (if: (history:) contains "advise work")[[["You should listen to them."|listen to biblers (advised kept)]]](else:)[[["You should listen to them."|listen to biblers (advised quit)]]] [["Ignore them."|ignore biblers]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : speak to fran)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name doesn't say anything. "Not a healthy home life." Delilah nods vigorously. //"And// I've read it makes you infertile." "Don't be silly, Delilah." "It's true—it's the ink those typewriters use," Delilah says. "It's got //chemicals// that get in through your skin. Why risk it?" Nancy makes a noise of agreement. "Homes are safe, I know that much," she says. "Thousands of years of wives say so. I say so too." "Besides, if Franny wants long hours and menial labor," Beth adds, "the Church could always use another nun." The circle titters. "Speaking of which," Nancy says, "it's about time we [[got started."|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't defend)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)"Oh, please, that's not fair," $name says. The group turns to look at her. She goes on. "I know some women who still work after they've married. Sure, it's not common, but—" "Widows, maybe," Beth says. "Not women with household duties. They'd have no time." "Franny's a smart girl," $name says. "I think she'd find a way. Besides, maybe Adam will support her in it." Heads shake around the circle. "Adam's a family man," Nancy says. "He'd want—well, he'd want a family. He's wanted a dozen little ones since he was in preschool. You can't have a real family like that with a working wife. That's why it's good that //you// quit." "Come on, Barb, I know you have a soft spot for Franny." Delilah reaches over and rubs $name's shoulder. "But this is a time for tough love if ever there was one." "If she wants long hours and menial labor," Beth adds, "the Church could always use another nun." The circle titters. "Speaking of which," Nancy says, "it's about time we [[got started."|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend fran)]

By the time she gets back, talk of Fran has subsided and the others are flipping through their Bibles. "Oh, good," Nancy says. "We were just waiting for you. Let's [[get started."|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no dice on fran)]

(if: (history:) contains "stewing on bus ride" or (history:) contains "thoughtful on bus ride")[He must be at his apartment, a few blocks' walk away from the Getty Avenue bus stop. Far enough to get wet, but God knows she's plenty soaked already from this pointless jaunt to Carolyn's. Little difference it'll make. With a sigh, $name disembarks at Getty. ](else-if: (history:) contains "gotta talk to G")[$Name shivers at the corner for a few minutes before the next bus comes, tracing the route in her mind. He must be at his apartment, a few blocks' walk away from one of the downtown stops. It's not too far a ride. She only realizes after she disembarks at Getty Avenue that she left her umbrella at Carolyn's. With a groan, she heads down the street. ]The rain has slackened from a downpour to more of a miserable drizzle, wet enough to soak but not heavy enough to feel it should. Deep puddles line the sidewalk, dodged by pedestrians smart enough to have brought umbrellas. A few passerby send sympathetic glances at the sight of her clinging clothes and dripping hair. Cars grumble by on the street, windshield wipers tossing water. The apartment where the groom lives is off the main stretch to be closer to the clinic where he works. She takes a shortcut, winding through the back alley between the library and the bank, then skirting the reeking dumpsters behind the diner. The building is a tiered brown thing only a few stories high, each apartment with a balcony jutting out over a small courtyard. She shields her eyes from the rain and looks up at the second-story window. His curtain is drawn, but the glow of a light illuminates the inside. She steps out of the rain under the awning by the main entrance and presses the buzzer. (if: (history:) contains "reveal kept")[After two buzzes, the speaker crackles. "What?" the groom's voice snaps. "It's me." For a moment, there's silence on the other end. Then the door clicks as it unlocks. With a sigh, $name [[steps inside.|angry groom appt]]](else:)[After a moment, the speaker crackles. "What?" the groom's voice grumbles. "It's me." The groom grunts on the other end. A moment later, the door clicks as it unlocks. With a sigh, $name [[steps inside.|sulky groom appt]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : find groom)]

$Name closes her eyes and traces the route back to her neighborhood in her mind, the ways the bus turns and the houses it passes. Nancy Wester's is right along the route, and the Bible study this afternoon. It will have started by now, but still, she could use some God after all this. Has the Lord got anything to say about strange stomach whispers and spines and old former friends showing up with trouble on their heels? She steps out into the wet afternoon at Cherry Street. As the bus rumbles off, spraying her ankles with water, she looks up at the house on the corner with its perfectly pruned bushes and grass cut to perfect length. The window frames look freshly painted in bright robin's-egg blue, matched to the flowered drapes hung inside. The smell of something baking carries even through the musk of rain. Through the door, she can hear the murmur of voices. $Name does her best to smooth down her skirt, brush down her dampened hair and restyle it in its pins. She raises a fist and [[knocks.|late to Bible study]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : go to Bible study)]

Nancy's at the door the moment she knocks. She hasn't changed much since high school: still short, blonde, and partial to full-skirted dresses—only now, those dresses sport clean white aprons over top as well. Her makeup, as always, is impeccable. "Barbara, hi!" she says. She takes $name by the hand and pulls her inside. "My, it's //wretched// out there." There comes a chorus of hellos from the study group gathered in the living room. (if: $graduate is true)[Franny sits in the corner, looking out at the rain with sleepy eyes. (if: $quit is true)[She glances at $name as she enters, then back to the weather outside, drumming her fingers on the Bible in her lap.](else:)[She gives $name a little wave and a smile as she enters.]] Most of these women she's known since high school as well: Delilah, seated by the fireplace, played the flute; Gertrude, with the checkered blouse, had led her math class; Beth, with the halo of curls, once dreamed of being a thespian on the big stage(if: $graduate is false)[; quiet little Franny, in the corner, always wanted to be a high-power businesswoman in some great firm]. She's forgotten their new last names, or whether they all have them. "You're late, but we've only just started," Delilah says, as Nancy guides $name over to the living room. "We were about to decide today's topic." A flutter of motion catches $name's eye as Franny slips out of the room. She can't see her face. The bathroom door slams down the hall. [[Ask about Franny.|ask about fran]] [[Ignore Franny.|Bible talk]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : late to Bible study)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name shakes her head. "He wouldn't do that. I remember when we were in college, he couldn't bear to even step on a //worm.// He'd pick them up and move them off the paths when it rained." "That was in college," Beth says. "He's grown up." Gertrude nods. "Don't be naive, Barb. You're smarter than that. You're smarter than keeping the //job.// At least, I thought you were. A good woman would've called out by now." [[Object.|object to G]] [[Stay quiet.|convo move on]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : peaceful groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)Gertrude's eyes widen. "You'd //what?// Oh no, no no no. Barbara. That's just not //done."// "If he hits me, I don't see why I shouldn't hit back." "That's the sort of problem you have to work out with him //calmly,"// Delilah says. Her carefully painted nails pinch the hem of her dress. "Not—//punch// him over some squabble or something." "You'd never get the upper hand, either," Beth says. She grimaces. "Why are we even discussing this? It's terrible. Husbands and wives should //not// be slapping each other around like children." Nancy raises her hands in a calming gesture. "I don't know where this preachy bravado came from, Barbara, but put it away. The bottom line is, you just can't keep working. Or talking like this, either. And on the eve of your wedding!" She glares at $name. "It's not the time to bicker. We're here to read the Holy Word." "Yes, let's," Beth grumbles, snapping open her [[Bible.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : would fight groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)$Name straightens her spine and gives Delilah a withering glare. "Delilah," she says, and the other woman shrinks back slightly, "do you think I'd //stay// if he hit me?" She splutters a little. "Barb, that seems a little hasty, right? I mean—" "Are you suggesting," $Name says, "that I should remain with a violent man?" Delilah flaps her hands. "No, no! I'm just saying that sometimes men snap and do things they don't mean, and it'd just be awfully //shortsighted// to walk out like that—I mean, maybe for a little, but you'd need to come back. And talk //calmly// about it." The stare $name gives her could have frozen lava. "Well, that //is// what the advice columns say," Beth adds from across the room. "I don't need an advice book to tell me to leave a situation where I'll get harmed." Nancy puts up her hands in a calming gesture. "Girls, girls. Be kind. Nobody is going to hit anyone around here, and I'm sure Barbara will come to her senses about work. Can we //please// move on?" "Yes, let's," Beth grumbles, snapping open her [[Bible.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : would leave groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)"Maybe I'm not a good woman, then," $Name snaps. "What is it to you?" "We just want what's best for you, Barb," Delilah says, wide-eyed. "Well, keep it to yourself, then. I'll be the judge of my own good." "The Lord will be the judge," Nancy says, cutting in. She raises her hands in a calming gesture and looks pointedly at each woman in turn. "I'm sure Barbara will come to what's right. Let us not bicker. We're here to read the Holy Word." "Yes, let's," Beth grumbles, snapping open her [[Bible.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : object to G)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name casts her eyes down and slowly stirs the tea in her lap. A lump presses at the back of her throat, but she swallows it down. Gertrude waits a moment, then sniffs and turns away, clearly taking the silence as a sign of agreement. "Well. Barbara will come to her senses, I'm certain." "The Lord will be the judge," Nancy says, cutting in. She raises her hands in a calming gesture and looks pointedly at each woman in turn. "We're here to read the Holy Word. Not bicker." "Yes, let's," Beth grumbles, snapping open her [[Bible.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : convo move on)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriend to it -2)"Why should I?" Franny's fingers curl around the edges of the seat until her knuckles whiten. "Why should I listen to //you,// for that matter? You told me to keep the damned job and then went and left." "That's not—" "What, not the same?" Franny chills her with a stony glare. "You were singing a far different tune than //them// back there in the office." She presses her hands to her temples. "Those high-horse hags like to say they know what's best for me. But they don't. And you don't either." "They have more experience than you in these things." "What, like //you're// some expert now too? I don't know what you're getting at, Barbara, if you just want to confuse me, or if you're playing games, or what. But you're the one person I //know// I shouldn't listen to." She points to the door. "Leave." "Franny..." Franny just thrusts her finger further. "Leave!" With a sigh, $Name backs out the door and returns to the [[group.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : listen to biblers (advised kept))]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriend to it -2)"Why should I?" Franny slumps on the seat, leaning her elbows on her knees. She looks at the floor. "They always say they know what's best for me. Like I'm too dumb to decide that for myself." "You're not stupid, Fran," the bride says. "But they have more experience than you in these things, and you'd do well to listen. Especially if you've got a boy in the wings." Her voice quiets. "Barb, I'm not even sure I want //that."// "What?" "Marriage." She doesn't look up. "I just don't know if it's for me." [["It's for everyone."|marriage for all]] [["I've been having doubts too."|marriage doubts]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : listen to biblers (advised quit))]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $franFriend to it +2)$Name shakes her head. "They don't know what they're talking about, Fran. They just like to pretend they do, because you're younger." "Don't they still have more experience, though?" "That doesn't give them the right to say what's best for //you."// Franny sniffles a little. She rubs her nose and looks away. "It messes with my head sometimes. I don't know what to think. About work, about marriage..." "Marriage?" "I just don't know if it's for me," Franny says in a voice so quiet $name must lean in to catch it. [["It's for everyone."|marriage for all]] [["I've been having doubts too."|marriage doubts]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ignore biblers)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriend to it -2)$Name chuckles in disbelief. "Oh, Fran, you don't mean //that.// I know it's scary, but that's just nerves talking." "It's //not// nerves!" Franny runs a hand through her hair, sending blonde strands cascading down her face. "Everyone says //Adam this// and //Adam that// and //oh what a nice boy// and //you're so lucky, Fran!// And nobody cares—nobody even asks—if //I// want Adam as my future. And I just //know// he's going to pop the question soon, I know it. What do I say? What do I even say?" "Well, you say yes, of course." "No!" The hand in her hair clenches hard, pulling a bundle of strands from their roots. "I mean how do I say no? Because they're //right,// he is sweet, and I'm sure he'd be a great husband... but I don't even know if I want a husband at all." $Name suppresses an eye roll. "Fran, I know you don't want to hear it, but it really does just sound like nerves to me. You'll get engaged, you'll settle in, and you'll wonder why you ever doubted." Franny groans. "Not you, too." Her hand drops to her lap, limp now. (if: (history:) contains "negative to engagement")["I thought you'd listen to me, you out of all people. //You// were the one who told me how it's not all champagne and roses. But now you're acting like //you're// some kind of happy-skippy marriage expert too. Just like them." $Name just shrugs. "I'm being honest." "Honest. Right." Franny shakes her head. "I'm done talking to you." "Fran..." "Please leave, Barbara." With a sigh, $Name returns to the [[group.|Bible talk]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : marriage for all)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $franFriend to it +2)$Name sighs and leans back, gripping the edges of the tub to keep her balance. "I'm not certain it's for me, either." Franny's eyebrows shoot up. "What? You're getting married //tomorrow."// The ceiling above the tub is pristine white. Not a stain upon it. She imagines Nancy standing there, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing. "I'm not sure if it's him, or... just marriage in general. But... I get this tightness when I think about it. When I think about saying yes to him." Franny just watches her. "It's like you said—everyone goes on about how he's such a great guy, and I'm lucky to have him, and all that. But they don't see the side of him I see. And unlike your Adam..." $Name sighs. "I don't know that he'd be a good husband at all." "You'd call it off?" Her voice is soft with something like reverence. "So close?" "Maybe." $Name closes her eyes. "Maybe." A [[knock|N calls]] at the door makes both women jump. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : marriage doubts)]

"Barbara? Are you in there too?" Nancy calls. "Yes." $Name glances at Franny, whose face has darkened. "We're just talking." "Well, stop talking and come on out. We're about to start." Her footsteps click back toward the living room. "I guess I'd better go." $Name stands with a sigh. Her back pops on the way up, and she twists her torso back and forth to loosen it. "You don't have to stay here, Fran." "What do you mean?" "Just go out the back door. It's down the hall." She turns to go, but Franny's light hand on her shoulder stops her. "Wait. There's [[one more thing|F changing]] I have to ask you." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : N calls)]

"Yes?" Franny lowers her voice. "It's... it's these cramps. They won't go away." She presses a hand to her stomach and winces. "It feels like my skin is //buzzing."// "Buzzing?" "Like—a hum. Or a whisper." Her eyes search $Name's face. "Is that—normal?" //Whispers.// A tingle rushes down $Name's side and pools deep in her abdomen. [["It's natural."|natural changes]] [["It's wrong."|wrong changes]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : F changing)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +1)(set: $franFriend to it +2)"Well," she says carefully, after a long moment. "I'm no doctor. But changes are natural, Franny. Changes are natural." She gives the stunned-looking girl a smile and slips out the door, back to the [[group.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : natural changes)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -1)(set: $franFriend to it -2)"Be careful of it, Franny," she warns. "Don't let it change you too." She shakes the girl's hand off her and slips out the door, back to the [[group.|Bible talk]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : wrong changes)]

(if: (history:) contains "hide kept")[As she approaches, she sees a strange tension in his shoulders, in the way he leans back against the Dodge with crossed arms, one foot tapping the ground. "There you are," he snaps, when she approaches. "Get in the car." "What is it?" A vein pulses in his temple. He yanks open the passenger door and points inside. "In the car." Bewildered, she slips in. He slams the door behind her and stomps around to his side. [["What's wrong?" |groom found out]]](else-if: $quit is true)["Good," he grunts. "I found you. Get in the car." "Are you taking me somewhere?" "Home," he grumbles. "Now you've got all your God stuff done, and you need to prepare for the wedding." She swallows. This will be the last time she sees him before they stand together at the altar. The last time to speak the thoughts churning in her mind. [[Voice doubts about wedding.|voice doubts to G]] [[Let him drive her home.|prep at home]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom here)]

"I spoke to your mother," the groom says. His voice sends tremors through her torso, like the bass beat of a song. The car pulls out with a roar of the engine. "So, Barbara." His fingers squeeze the steering wheel. "When were you going to tell me about your work decision?" The bride stares straight ahead. The windshield wipers toss water back and forth, back and forth. "I was going to, I swear I was going to." She hates the quiver in her voice. "Really." "I—I didn't want to ruin our last day before the wedding." "Barb," he says, a faint redness rising in his neck, "we don't need any extra money. My salary is enough for us both." "It's not that," she says. "I just... want a little to be mine. To spend on whatever I'd like. And at work I can develop my skills, have something worthwhile to do with my days..." "Skills?" He gives a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "You won't need to know about //(if: $graduate is true)[typing](else:)[bagging vegetables]// once you're my wife. That's useless, angel. I can give you some money every month, if you really like, to spend on this or that." Frustration rises as a hot lump in her throat. "That's just it," she says. "That's what I don't want. I want it to be //mine,// earned by //me."// "Do I need to say it again?" The groom's voice remains light, almost cheerful, like they're sharing a droll joke. But the way he slams the brakes at a red light, sending her knees banging painfully against the dashboard, says something else. "You do //not// need your own money." The static sting of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "You said you //wanted// me to work, remember? That I'm a smart cookie, that I can do more?" She hears him sigh. "Of course you are, Barb. It's going to make you a wonderful wife. But you misjudged this one." "But back then, you said—" "I know what I said. And that was one that //I// misjudged." He turns fully to face her, his features bathed in the red of the stoplight. When he speaks again, the lightness is gone. A harsh current roils his voice. "I cannot have you neglecting your //duties// to sit at some counter and follow some other man's orders while leaving our home empty." [[Respond angrily.|angry at groom 2]] [[Defend decision.|defend decision 2]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume 2]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom found out)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)"It's //my// free time." $Name glares at him. "I don't need your permission for what I do with it." His face darkens. Mouth twists like a vine. "It's not about permission, Barbara," he says. "It's about what's best for our house. For our family. Working, well—it leads to stress, Barb. And stress leads to infertility, mess, maladjustment—bad things." "You must be reading my mother's magazines," $name mutters. He ignores her. "I think," he says, "that I should've put my foot down sooner. It has confused you, Barb. Put strange ideas in your head." The light changes, but he doesn't notice, intent on her. "You're my girl and you're going to be my wife and I want our household to be healthy. That starts with you at home." $Name's voice rises. "These ideas are //mine.// Nobody put them here. It was //my// decision to stay. I thought you'd support me." "I've learned better. And I'd hoped you had too." The groom slams on the gas, throwing $name back into her seat. "You should have stayed home with your mother. //She// would show you how to run a family." [[Accuse him of changing.|accusation 2]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume 2]] (if: (history:) contains "furious ma")[[[Insult mother.|insult mother 2]]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry at groom 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)She presses the heels of her hands to her temples. "No—no! That's not what I mean, that's not what I want. I can do both." "Your boss would not have hired you to begin with if he realized you wouldn't quit once you married. This sort of job is meant to teach you responsibility, respect, discipline, that sort of thing. Not balloon some notion of splitting up your home life. A split home is a wrecked home, Barbara." //"Wrecked?// That's absurd." "It's not my word you have to take. You can find it in any marriage book, or from any marriage counsellor. It's one that you must accept." She squeezes her eyes shut. He won't listen. Maybe he [[never did.|groom's ultimatum]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend decision 2)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She bites her tongue hard enough to taste the metallic sting of blood. The groom guns the engine. "This is unacceptable, Barbara. I should have known that staying in this job for so long would warp your head with professional delusions. I thought you were prepared to marry and take on all your rightful duties. But I see I was wrong." He pauses, as though expecting her to respond, but she doesn't speak. He blows a gust of air through his nose and squints back at the road. [[Silence|groom's ultimatum]] hangs in the car like a noxious gas. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : let groom fume 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)The bride presses her hands to her head. "What happened to you? Where's the man I met in college?" The man who studied with her late at night, who said he loved the way she thought, who brought her hot chocolate on their late nights at the library, who danced with her until dawn? The man she fell in love with? The sharp static of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't act like she'd rather not be one." She closes her eyes, listens to the patter of rain on the roof, the //squick-squick// of the windshield wipers, and tries to [[breathe evenly.|groom's ultimatum]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accusation 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"My mother," $name says, "is a control freak. She's just as bad as you. And if you're hoping that I'll let you, //either// of you, decide what //my// life or //my// marriage or //my// home means, then stop right now." He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. "It isn't your home," he says. "It's //ours.// And a good home begins with a good wife who respects the head of the household. I'm ready to do my part. You need to accept yours." The sharp static of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "And I thought I had a [[say|groom's ultimatum]] in it." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insult mother 2)]

"Now," he says. "I am driving you to the (if: $graduate is true)[firm](else:)[grocery store]. I expect you to set this right. Walk in there and announce your resignation." Her hands are clammy where they grip the seat, tight enough to feel the pulse in her fingertips. Each heartbeat beat reverberates through her skin. She can see the downtown lights ahead now, through the haze of rain, and the cheery glow of shops along the main drive, umbrellas bobbing here and there. She glances at him. "What if I don't?" "You've disrespected your mother. You've disrespected me. Whatever's gotten into you, it won't stand. I don't care if the wedding is tomorrow." His eyes are flint. "If you don't fix this, we're finished." [[Call it off.|call it off]] [[Obey him.|obey groom]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom's ultimatum)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)(set: $engaged to false)$Name looks out the window again, through the curtains of water. In her mind's eye she can see the women in the Bible study again, the obsessively clean rooms, swapping pointless gossip over danishes and sweating over the toil of their next meal. (if: (history:) contains "speak to fran")[ She thinks of Franny, eyes rimmed red, shoulders tense.(if: (history:) contains "F changing")[ Of the cramps inside her, the changes no doubt now burrowing into her, resculpting her into something like $name herself.] (if: $graduate is true)[Of the happiness in her face when $name said she was staying, and the pout on Mr. Kellen's bulldog face.]] She thinks of the enigma of Carolyn, her promise of changes(if: (history:) contains "travel to motel")[, that clunker of a car with the dinosaur on top]. She thinks of her mother, the way she putters and scurries around the kitchen like a frenetic windup toy, serving and serving. She thinks of the shabby old dress and her box of memories gathering dust. Finally she thinks again about the teardrop in her sternum. The murmurs that pass there so delicately. The spines that glint so smooth on her arms. The stirring and prickling that wraps around her with every memory and climbs to the nape of her neck with a whispering grace. She turns back to the groom. "I guess we're finished, then," she says. "What?" [["We're finished."|engagement over]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse to quit)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal. She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She holds it close. "Okay," she whispers. "Okay. I'll do it." "Good girl." He leans over to kiss her. The car rolls to a stop. She opens her eyes to the gray shape of (if: $graduate is false)[Schmitt's Grocery, the ever-stocked display boasting today's deals.](else:)[Vanguard Law Group, its faux Roman pillars slick and shiny with water.] She slips from the car, his kiss still hot on her cheek. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : obey groom)]

(set: $engaged to false)He slams the brakes, hard, in the middle of the street. The car pitches forward, but she keeps her balance this time. "Get out of my car," the groom says. //No—not the groom. Just a man now.// And she's nobody's bride. Something inside her is lifting, lifting. She feels she could just up and float. "Get out!" he shouts. Another car blasts its horn as it skids around the stopped Dodge. She throws open the car door and leaps out into the rain. It feels so cool—so bracing on her skin—even as it soaks into her clothes and spirals down her forehead. As he watches, she twists the engagement ring off her finger and tosses it into the puddle-speckled street. It bounces once, then rolls down a drainage grate. The car's engine revvs behind her. Its wheels spew her with street water as it roars away, the still-open passenger door waving open like a floppy arm. She watches as it blazes through the light at the end of the street, spirals around the corner, and blasts out of sight. $Name throws her head back into the cleansing rain and laughs and laughs. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : engagement over)]

(css: "font-size: 120%")[INSIGHTS] (if: $docileProactive is > 0)[You are more proactive than docile.](else-if: $docileProactive is < 0)[You are more docile than proactive.](else:)[You are equal parts docile and proactive.] Total number of docile/proactive choices: $DPtotal Number of docile options chosen: $numDocile Number of proactive options chosen: $numProactive [[Next Chapter|Aftermath]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insights ch 3)]

$Name's heartbeat rises into her throat. Each thump on the door rattles through her stomach(if: (history:) contains "ask for touch" or (history:) contains "kiss!")[, bludgeoning out the echoes of the pleasant buzz that so recently filled her]. She puts a hand on her chest, trying to breathe evenly. In three beats. Out three beats. Another hard thump rattles the door. Carolyn presses both hands against the flimsy wood. "What do I //do?// He's gonna knock this damn thing down!" "I'll see him, I'll see him. Just—give me a moment." (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[She straightens and buttons her rumpled clothes, pats her hair to smooth it down, wipes her mouth.](else-if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[She smooths down her rumpled clothes and wipes her mouth.] Then she stands and draws herself to her full height. [["Let him in."|groom is pissed] (Node : let groom in)

"Go away!" Carolyn hollers through the door, thumping a fist against the wood. "She's not here!" "I //know// she's there, Carolyn Campbell!" the groom bellows. Another thump rattles the door, which gives a worrying creak. "She's been there for too long!" "Leave, asswipe!" $Name feels her fingers shake. Her pulse pounds in her ears(if: (history:) contains "ask for touch" or (history:) contains "kiss!")[ as she fumbles to smooth her rumpled clothes and pat down her tangled hair]. More shouting and banging comes from the front. Carolyn's hand lands on her shoulder. She drops to her knees beside $name. "Hey," she says, speaking in a fast whisper. "There's a screen on the back window. But we could probably get it off." [["No, I'll speak to him."|groom is pissed] [["Good idea."|leave through back]] (Node : B's not here)

The groom storms in the moment that the latch clicks open. He shoves Carolyn aside as he passes and stalks up to $name, ignoring the other woman's angry hiss. "What are you doing here?" $name asks, trying to still the quaver in her voice. The groom towers over her. "Barbara. We're leaving." He makes a move to grab her wrist. She pulls back. "No! What's gotten into you? We were just—catching up." Carolyn slips around his bulk and plants herself firmly next to $name, fists on her hips. "Did you //follow// her?" "I have a right to know where my wife goes." "Your wife?" Carolyn grins. "Not yet, she's not." (if: (history:) contains "hide kept")[His eyes burn. "And," he says, voice dangerously low, "she's been hiding things from me." $Name swallows. "What are you talking about?" [["Your job,"|job fight]] he says, and her stomach drops.](else:)[He wheels on her, eyes burning. "If you intend to separate me from the woman who will be my wife, Carolyn..." he hisses. "Or you'll what? Hit me? I'd like to see you try it." "Stop it—stop it!" $Name steps between them, holding up her hands. "What is going on? [[Why are you here?"|G is suspicious]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom is pissed)]

The window opens easily, but the screen is fitted in tight. With shaky hands, $name pries her fingernails into the edge next to Carolyn's and together they heave the screen aside. "I swear to //God,// Carolyn, I will call the police on you and your road hazard pile of //junk// out there if you don't open this fucking door!" "Oh, bugger off!" Carolyn yells back. She turns back to $name. (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch" or (history:) contains "kiss!")[An arm slips around her waist, another around the back of her neck, and Carolyn kisses her long and deep one more time. For a moment the banging at the door is just a dream. When Carolyn pulls back, a confident grin dances across her lips. ]"Get outta here, Barb," she says. "I'll deal with him. And if you want to split this joint—" She winks. "Get here early tomorrow. Now go." She all but pushes $name through the window and slams the screen back into place. [[Eavesdrop.|listen in on C&G]] [[Leave.|leave motel]] (Node : leave through back)

$Name closes her eyes and takes a breath to steady herself. Then she pushes herself away from the wall and slips away into the rain.

$Name's knees tremble. She braces herself against the wall of the motel beside the window, breathing a thank-you to whatever God is listening that Carolyn's room is on the ground floor. The door slams inside. The window hadn't closed all the way, and through the crack $name can make out the voices rising inside. "Where is she? I know she's here!" "The hell has got into you? I already said she's //not." // The groom gives a frustrated hiss. More thumping. "Oh, but by all means, tear the place apart," Carolyn says flatly. "Don't let me stop you. It's only //my// motel room." There's ruffling, thumping, the sounds of objects being thrown aside. "She said she was coming here! I saw her get off the bus—" "You //followed// her? Creep." "She's my //wife,// Carolyn Campbell, and I will do what I please." "Your wife?" A lilt of amusement enters Carolyn's voice. "Not yet, she's not." "I have the right to say where she goes and who she talks to. It's my job to look after her. And how am I to know she wasn't meeting some other //man// in here?" He snorts. "Not like a loose gal like //you// would know what's wrong with that." Carolyn laughs. "Still salty I wouldn't boil your cabbages back in school, eh?" Silence but for more frenzied thumping. $Name imagines the groom tearing through Carolyn's suitcase, upsetting her books, tossing her clothes, peering under the beds. "Where is she, Carolyn?" the groom snarls at last. "Do I have to say it again? I haven't seen her." He doesn't reply. A moment later, the door slams. From the other side of the building comes the familiar roar of the Dodge's engine. "Asshole," Carolyn mutters in the ensuing silence. [[Leave motel.|leave motel]] [[Go back inside.|back inside]] (Node : listen in on C&G)

"Your mother told me," he says, "when I ran into her. You've been keeping secrets, Barbara." "I was going to tell you, I swear I was going to." She hates the quiver in her voice. "She doesn't have to justify it to you," Carolyn says, jaw clenched. His eyes don't move from $name's. "I—I didn't want to ruin our last day before the wedding." "Well." A faint red throbs in his neck. "I don't think that worked out. In what world, Barbara—" His voice rises. "—we don't need any extra money. My salary is enough for us both." "It's not that," she says. "I just... want a little to be mine. To spend on whatever I'd like. And at work I can develop my skills, have something worthwhile to do with my days..." "Skills?" He gives a little, scornful laugh. "You won't need to know about //(if: $graduate is true)[typing](else:)[bagging vegetables]// once you're my wife. That's useless, angel. I can give you some money every month, if you really like, to spend on this or that." Frustration rises as a hot lump in her throat. "That's just it," she says. "That's what I don't want. I want it to be //mine,// earned by //me."// "Do I need to say it again? You do //not// need your own money." Red throbs in his cheeks. She resists the urge to take a step back. "And now you run off to pal about with some washed-up whore from college instead of //me?"// Carolyn cackles. "That'll be my next bumper sticker." The groom glares at Carolyn. "I know you're trying to put //thoughts// in her head, Carolyn. But Barb's a good honest girl. She's just gone astray." Carolyn scoffs. He looks again at $name. His voice softens slightly, and he reaches out to take both her hands in his. "I'm here to guide her back to reason. I know she wouldn't really want to neglect her duties to sit at some counter and follow some other man's orders while leaving our home empty." [[Respond angrily.|angry at groom 3]] [[Defend decision.|defend decision 3]] [[Stay quiet.|soft groom]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : job fight)]

"I know why you've been acting this way, Barbara," he says. "I should've realized the moment I heard this washed-up whore was in town." Carolyn cackles. "That'll be my next bumper sticker." "What?" $Name puts a hand to her forehead. "I don't understand." "I figured it out. She's poisoning you against me," he says, expression pinched. "Against marriage itself. You've spent enough time here." "You've been talking to my mother," $name says. "I should've talked to her sooner," the groom shoots back. "Of course Carolyn hasn't //changed// or whatever. She's the same old skank and now she's after you again." "I take it back," Carolyn says. //"That// will be my next bumper sticker. What, you think we're hiding a man under the bed or something? There's nobody under there, unless you're worried she's fucking some dust bunnies behind your back." He grabs $name's wrist and shakes it. "What has she been telling you?" [[Defend Carolyn.|C defense]] [[Tell him about changes.|explain changes]] [[Stay silent.|say nothing]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : G is suspicious)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5) "It's //my// free time." $Name tries to yank her hands back, but his grip tightens. "I don't need your permission for what I do with it. Or who I spend time with, for that matter. Let go." "You agreed to marry me, love," he says, nearly crooning, leaning closer. "And I want what's best for our house, for both of us, darling. Working, well—it leads to stress, Barb. And stress leads to infertility, mess, maladjustment—bad things." "You must be reading my mother's magazines," $name mutters. He ignores her. "I care about the future we might have together. Let's go together and put this all behind us. This is no way to start a marriage." "I am not going to //grovel// to get your approval for what I do with my time. Wife or not." $Name yanks again and succeeds in pulling back her hands. She takes a step back, holding them up, palms out. "Marrying you doesn't make me any less //Barbara,// any less //myself// or any more //you."// "Amen, sister," Carolyn says. She puts a steady hand on $name's shoulder. "Do you hear that, prettyboy? She's not interested in this possessive whining of yours. Bugger off." The groom doesn't budge. His jaw clenches, red spreading back across his face. "I think," he says, in a tone that carries gnaws and squirms through her torso like a putrid worm, "that I should've put my foot down sooner. Working's confused you, Barb. Put strange ideas in your head. You're my girl and you're going to be my wife and I want our household to be healthy. That starts with you at //home."// "What are you talking about?" $Name's pulse speeds through her, thumping in her ears. "These ideas are //mine.// Nobody put them here. It was //my// decision to stay. I thought you'd support me." He huffs. "You should have stayed home with your mother. //She// would show you how to run a family." [[Accuse him of changing.|accusation 3]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume 3]] (if: (history:) contains "furious ma")[[[Insult mother.|insult mother 3]]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry at groom 3)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)She presses the heels of her hands to her temples. "No—no! That's not what I mean, that's not what I want. I can do both." "Your boss would not have hired you to begin with if he realized you wouldn't quit once you married. This sort of job is meant to teach you responsibility, respect, discipline, that sort of thing. Not balloon some notion of splitting up your home life. A split home is a wrecked home, Barbara." //"Wrecked?// That's absurd." "I'm simply stating a fact. It's not my word you have to take. You can find it in any marriage book, from any marriage counsellor. It's one that you must accept." She squeezes her eyes shut. He won't listen. Maybe he [[never did.|leave or not?]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend decision 3)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She bites her tongue hard enough to taste the metallic sting of blood. "Steady," Carolyn mutters. The groom clasps his hands behind his back and paces back and forth in the tiny room. "This is unacceptable, Barbara. I thought you were prepared to marry and take on all your rightful duties. But I see I was incorrect. Wasn't I?" He pauses, as though expecting her to respond, but she doesn't speak. Beside her, Carolyn grinds her teeth. His eyes probe. "Prove me wrong, Barb. Don't take this for granted." [[Silence|leave or not?]] hangs in the room like noxious gas. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : let groom fume 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)$Name pulls on her hands, but the groom's grip just tightens. "What happened to you? Where's the man I met in college?" The man who studied with her late at night, who said he loved the way she thought, who brought her hot chocolate in their late nights at the library, who danced with her until dawn? The man she fell in love with? The sharp static of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't act like she'd rather not be one." $Name hiccups and forces her breath to come in and out, in and out, even. Carolyn's fingers tighten protectively around $name's shoulder. "And what if she wants a husband who doesn't come barging in like a drunken ass at the //thought// of his dumb little wife having any ideas or any life to begin with?" "I wouldn't expect //you// to get it. But my girl, she's smarter than this. And if she's got any sense whatsoever, she'll come with me tonight. She'll apologize, we'll make this up, and we'll [[start our union|leave or not?]] right." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accusation 3)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"My mother," $name says, "is a controlling little harpy who's just as bad as you. And if you're hoping that I'll let you, //either// of you, decide what //my// life or //my// marriage or //my// home means." He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. His hands squeeze hers. "It isn't your home," he says. "It's //ours.// And a good home begins with a good wife who respects the head of the household. I'm ready to do my part. You need to accept yours." The sharp static of tears press against the backs of her eyes. "And I thought I had a [[say|soft groom]] in it." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insult mother 3)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)The groom kisses first her left hand, then the right. "I love you, Barbara, I really do. Whatever's happened to you these past few days, I'll fix it. I'll take you home and we can dance together, like we did in the old days. You're mine, darling, and I'll keep you and love you and protect you to the end. I'll be the best husband there ever was. No-one else will ever love you like I do." Carolyn makes an exaggerated gagging noise. The groom ignores her. "We'll get through this," he says, stepping closer, close enough for her to now smell whiskey on his breath. "We'll forget this little mix-up ever happened." "Don't let him sweet-talk you, Barb," Carolyn says, voice dripping with disgust. Her hand holds steady on $name's shoulder. "The life he wants isn't yours." "I only do this because I love you," the groom whispers. Her hands are limp and sweaty inside his. "You're confused. But I know what's right. Come with me." He tugs her. "I'll take you home and you can apologize to your dear mother for all this, too." [[Obey.|choose G]] [[Pull away.|refuse G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : soft groom)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(if: (history:) contains "affirm statement")["Of course I'm right," he says with a chuckle. "Now. We're leaving."](else:)["That's right," he croons.] Carolyn's hand slips off her shoulder as she moves away. The space where it rested feels cold. (if: (history:) contains "kiss!" or (history:) contains "ask for touch")[The ghosts of her fingers, her lips, her heartbeat pulsing through the flesh between them dance in tingles against her skin. $Name tries to shake them off. It was wrong, what they did. Debauched. Immoral. //Cheating.//] The groom—his touch, his mouth ringed by whispers of stubble, those careful doctor's hands—this is where she belongs. $Name closes her eyes as the groom wraps his arms around her. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She holds it close. "Okay," she breathes. "Let's go." [["Good girl."|leave motel with G]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : choose G)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)"No. I'm not going with you." She pulls her hands out of his with a sharp yank and steps back, out of reach, leaning into Carolyn's steady grip. "You're not him. You're not the man I agreed to marry." "You're an asshole," Carolyn adds helpfully. She wraps her arm fully around $name's shoulders, sheltering her. His face darkens. "Barbara." Veins strain against the skin of his temples. "We're leaving. Now." "I said no. I'm staying here. You can go. But I'm not coming." "If you don't come," he says, "we're finished." [[Call it off.|end engagement]] [[Go with him.|choose G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse G)]

(set: $engaged to true)Carolyn sighs behind her. She sinks onto the mussed-up bedsheets. "Mazel tov, Barbara," she says, voice heavy. "I hope you'll be happy. I really do." $Name glances back as the groom guides her to the door. In the warm light of the bedside lamp, Carolyn almost glows. $Name remembers spines, strange patterns on Carolyn's skin. But whatever they were, she can't see them now. The groom gives her a kiss as he shepherds her into the passenger side of the Dodge outside, slick and shiny with rain. As the car rumbles to life, the bride touches the place where his kiss still burns hot on her cheek. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave motel with G)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)Carolyn's arm is steady and warm. $Name leans into her touch, closing her eyes. In her mind's eye she can see (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women in the Bible study again, the obsessively clean rooms, swapping pointless gossip over danishes and sweating over the toil of their next meal.](else:)[a vision of the house they might own, the rows and rows of pencils she'll have to organize, stacks of papers too important for her to touch, meals too salty or not enough. She sees checkered drapes, though she wanted stripes; she sees a bawling groom-faced child in a high chair throwing food.](if: $graduate is true)[ She thinks of Franny, eyes rimmed red, shoulders tense.(if: $quit is false)[Of the happiness in her face when $name said she was staying, and the pout on Mr. Kellen's bulldog face.](else:)[Of her heavy eyes and slumped shoulders at the news of $name's quitting.]] She thinks of Carolyn, so sturdy beside her, the open road ahead, the great big world beyond, full of mountains and deserts and bustling cities just waiting for that clunker of a car with the dinosaur on top to pull in. (if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[The soft pressure of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, so deliciously wrong and deliciously right.](else-if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[The soft pressure of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, so deliciously wrong and deliciously right. The nimble touch of her fingers sliding over her, //all// over her, dexterous and gentle.] She thinks of her mother, the way she putters and scurries around the kitchen like a frenetic windup toy, serving and serving. She thinks of the shabby old wedding dress and her box of memories gathering dust. Finally, she thinks again about the teardrop in her sternum. The murmurs that pass there so delicately. The spines that glint so smooth on her arms. The stirring and prickling that wraps around her with every memory and climbs to the nape of her neck with a whispering grace. She turns back to the groom. "I guess we're finished, then." His mouth falls open slightly. "What?" A shivery thrill blooms inside her as she says it again. [["We're finished."|G leaves motel alone]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : end engagement)]

(set: $engaged to false)Muscles work in his jaw. His fingers close into shaking fists. "You heard her," Carolyn says. In the corner of her eye, $name can see her grinning, the strange, dark teeth glinting within her mouth. "Scram." "You don't mean this," the groom says, and the quiver is in his voice as well. //No—not the groom. Just a man now.// And she's nobody's bride. An electric thrill speeds through her, bursting like fireworks deep in her stomach. She twists the engagement ring off her finger and tosses it on the floor in front of him. It bounces once, then rolls away under the radiator. "I've never meant anything more in my life. Get out of here." The man stands there a moment longer, red-faced and trembling. "Fucking cunt," he spits. Then he spins on his heel and storms through the door, kicking Carolyn's suitcase aside as he goes and slamming the door hard enough for wood to splinter at the knob. She and Carolyn stand there, listening, as the familiar roar of the Dodge's engine revvs outside. Headlights flash and tires screech. And then there's nothing but the patter of rain and the faint hum of the freeway beyond the motel. A ticklish feeling rises in her throat and into her head. And then she's laughing, doubling over, clutching Carolyn until her stomach hurts. She sinks to the floor. "He's gone," she whispers between hiccups. "My God. He's gone." [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : G leaves motel alone)]

$Name waits a good five minutes, until the groom has well and truly left, then knocks gently on the screen. Carolyn opens the window. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd left."

"You're a prick," Carolyn says, breaking the silence. She presses close against $name, side by side, her black spines gently rustling against $name's back. The groom glares. If looks could kill, Carolyn would be flat on a slab. But she stares him down, unblinking. "I don't care what little plan you've concocted to separate me from Barbara, Carolyn," he says. "But it won't work. Move away from her. She's leaving here with me."(if: (history:) contains "wants to leave with C")[ Carolyn laughs, loud and humorless. "Oh, she's leaving. But not with you, buddy. She's got a future beyond this shithole town that you and your jealous little ego would //never// let her have." "You'll be happiest here," the groom says. "You're just confused right now, listening to this bitch ramble. But I know what's best, darling. I know what will make you happiest."] "You don't have to go with him," Carolyn says, turning to $name. "He'd never let you leave. Never let you go anywhere or see anything but his own four walls." The groom gives a frustrated grunt and snatches $name's hand in a vicelike grip. He pulls. "Let's //go,// Barbara. //Now." // [[Obey.|choose G]] [[Pull away.|refuse G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave or not?)]

- B can leave to go home - face mother, pack - wants to travel with or without C - can set out on her own, go to aunts' place - can stay the night with C and leave in the morning, fresh start (with or without telling G or saying goodbye to parents) - can also bang all night if girlfriend - can leave with or without note to parents/G - can go home in the morning

- go home - if job fight, ma is mad—groom was over earlier and angry - groom wants to leave her; ma blames bride - he expects her there tomorrow at the altar having fixed this attitude - demands she go apologize - if quit, ma pampers her; groom dropped by to complain about no photoshoot? - decide whether or not to just leave and write a note or go ahead with wedding - go to groom - groom is at apartment - fight

(if: (history:) contains "Pull back.")[$Name scrambles to her feet, backing away from Carolyn. Her fingers fumble to smooth down her front. "I—I need to go talk to my fiancé. We had a fight—"](else:)[$Name rubs her eyes. "My fiancé and I... we had a bit of a fight. I should probably talk to him." She pushes herself to her feet. A few joints pop. From the light through the rain outside, it's later than she thought.] "Oh?" "Just... me keeping my job. He's not pleased with that." Carolyn sits up and stretches her arms high above her head. "He's not your boss. Literally or figuratively." "I know. But... he //is// my fiancé, I owe it to him to at least talk about this..." "If you must." Carolyn rolls her eyes. "I think you're wasting breath." A mirror hangs on the back of the motel door. $Name carefully repins her hair and runs her fingers through to tease out the tangles. She gives herself a once-over and sighs. "I know you do." "Break a leg," Carolyn says flatly as $name steps through the door and [[back into the rain.|find groom]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : gotta talk to G)]

(if: (history:) contains "Pull back.")[$Name scrambles to her feet, backing away from Carolyn. Her fingers fumble to smooth down her front. "I—I need to go home. My ma, she'll be wondering where I am."](else:)[$Name rubs her eyes. "I shouldn't stay," she says. "Ma will be wondering where I am.] Carolyn sits up and stretches her arms high above her head. "Oh yes, your mother. She wouldn't be keen on you meeting me here, I'm sure." "She doesn't think highly of you." "Few people here do. I'm used to it." A mirror hangs on the back of the motel door. $Name carefully repins her hair and runs her fingers through to tease out the tangles. She gives herself a once-over and sighs. "I'm sure you are." (if: (history:) contains "travel plan")["See you soon, Barb,"](else:)["I hope I see you here again,"] Carolyn calls as $name steps through the door and into the rain. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : gotta talk to G)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)Rain slides past the window as they pull away from the curb. $Name swallows. "Well, about that." Something in her tone makes the groom glance over, eyes narrowed. "Lately I—I've not been so sure about this wedding." He huffs. "The catering will be fine. Your picky aunt can just have a salad." "No, that's not it. I mean... about whether we should have it at all." She clasps her sweaty hands in her lap. "About whether it's right for me." Stony silence. [["You've changed too much."|G's changed]] [["I'm not ready to commit."|no commitment]] [[Let the silence continue.|allow silence]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : voice doubts to G)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $engaged to true)She settles back in the seat as they pull away from the curb. "Something the matter?" he asks, glancing at her. "No. It's nothing." She looks away. Vaguely, she can see her reflection in the window, distored by glass. "I'm excited. For the wedding, I mean." "Good girl." They drive the rest of the way in heavy, rain-soaked silence. He drops her off at the porch, and she watches from the shelter of the overhang as the Dodge pulls away. The next time she sees him, it will be on the altar. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : prep at home)]

"Of course it's right for you," the groom says at last. "I don't know what you're talking about. It's right for everyone." He grunts. "Don't tell me you've been contemplating spinsterism." "I just think—" "You don't //need// to think, angel. That's my job. You're just getting cold feet." "It's //not// cold feet. It's bigger than that. I think—I think I don't want to get married. At all." The car stops at a red light. He idly taps the steering wheel with his forefingers. "I assure you you're mine, darling, if that's what's bothering you. You always will be. Loving and spoiling and protecting their gals—that's what husbands do. Besides, no one else will ever love you like I do. Now stop worrying." [["I don't want to marry you."|no marriage]] [["Maybe you're right."|agree with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : allow silence)]

"I've been thinking," she says. "I don't think I'm ready to be married. It's just... more than I bargained for." "You don't //need// to think, dear. That's my job. You're just getting cold feet." The car stops at a red light. He taps the steering wheel with his forefingers. "I assure you you're mine, darling, if that's what's the matter. You always will be. Loving and spoiling and protecting their gals—that's what husbands do. Besides, no one else will ever love you like I do. Now stop worrying." She shakes her head. "It's a commitment I don't want." "You're just confused. It's the wedding nerves. Once tomorrow's done, you'll wonder why you ever worried." He gives her a saccharine smile, as though he's talking to a child. "Come on, love. This is supposed to be a cheerful occasion." [["I don't want to marry you."|no marriage]] [["Maybe you're right."|agree with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no commitment)]

"You're not the same person I agreed to marry," $name says, looking down at her hands. The engagement ring glints on her finger. She twists it back and forth. "When you went away... things became different." The groom laughs. "I'm still me, angel. Not some simulacrum. I still want us to build this family together." "No, it's... you've been harsher. More distant. Not listening to me or what I want. Demanding I do this or that, making me leave behind my old photographs..." His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. "Everything I've asked has been for you." "But you've never asked me what //I// want." "I know what you want. And you've been in a strange space the past few days. Your mother's told me so." He stops at a red light and turns to look at her. "It's just cold feet, Barbara. Don't worry so much. You're confusing yourself." [["I don't want to marry you."|no marriage]] [["Maybe you're right."|agree with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : G's changed)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"No. You misunderstand me." Frustration rises like bile in her throat. "It's not that I'm confused. It's that I don't want this wedding." He just laughs. "You're silly, Barbara." Her fingers curl into shaky fists. "I //mean// it." "I'm sure your dear mother will make you some nice chicken soup for the nerves. That's what prepping for a wedding is all about." "No!" She slams her fist down on the dashboard with a bang, surprising them both. "How clearly do I have to say it? I do //not// want to marry you!" Silence fills the car again for a long, deathly moment. The groom's face darkens. "Oh, Barbara," he says slowly. "You don't mean that." "You heard me. I want to call it off. I'm done." The light changes, but he doesn't budge. The car behind him honks. "No," he says. [["I forbid it."|argument escalates]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no marriage)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She cannot let her cold feet and jitters take it from her. She cannot risk a life without him. Letting her fingers relax, she takes a calming breath. "You're right," she says. "I suppose I'm just—stressed." "Of course you are," he croons, patting her knee. "Now let's get you home. I'm sure your dear mother will make you some nice chicken soup for the nerves." He leans over to kiss her. The car rolls to a stop. She opens her eyes to the familiar shape of her home outside. She slips from the car, his kiss still hot on her cheek. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : agree with G)]

Nancy Wester's home is only a few blocks away. Why not? $Name takes an umbrella and walks in a haze down the familiar streets, dodging puddles. Maybe the women there would have some advice for her, or at least pleasant company... The house on the corner has perfectly pruned bushes and grass cut to perfect length. The window frames look freshly painted in bright robin's-egg blue, matched to the flowered drapes hung inside. The smell of something baking carries even through the musk of rain. She climbs the stairs and [[knocks.|Bible house]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : walk to Bible group)]

Her pulse pounds. "You //forbid// it? What the hell does that mean?" "It means that you will meet me on that altar tomorrow and say yes." "No. I said I'm ending this." His eyes look about to pop. "Who put these ideas in your head?" he snaps. "Work?" "Work has nothing to do with it! I //quit// my work!" $Name can feel a fine sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. "Not soon enough." The groom presses a hand to his forehead. "I knew I should've called a stop. It has confused you. Put strange ideas in your head." "I don't need work to put any ideas in my head! I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself that I am //done// with this engagement." The static sting of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "And you said you //wanted// me to work, remember? That I'm a smart cookie, that I can do more? I thought I was marrying the man who told me that. The man I loved in college." "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't act like she'd rather not be one." Muscles grind in his jaw. "So be careful what you say, Barbara Williams." $Name [[squeezes her eyes shut|spark point]] to calm the pounding in her forehead. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : argument escalates)]

In her mind's eye she can see the women in the Bible study again, the obsessively clean rooms, swapping pointless gossip over danishes and sweating over the toil of their next meal. (if: (history:) contains "speak to fran")[ She thinks of Franny, eyes rimmed red, shoulders tense.(if: (history:) contains "F changing")[ Of the cramps inside her, the changes no doubt now burrowing into her, resculpting her into something like $name herself.] (if: $graduate is true)[Of the happiness in her face when $name said she was staying, and the pout on Mr. Kellen's bulldog face.]] She thinks of the enigma of Carolyn, her promise of changes(if: (history:) contains "travel to motel")[, that clunker of a car with the dinosaur on top]. She thinks of her mother, the way she putters and scurries around the kitchen like a frenetic windup toy, serving and serving. She thinks of the shabby old dress and her box of memories gathering dust. Finally, she thinks again about the teardrop in her sternum. The murmurs that pass there so delicately. The spines that glint so smooth on her arms. The stirring and prickling that wraps around her with every memory and climbs to the nape of her neck with a whispering grace. She takes a steadying breath and turns back to the groom. "You're an asshole," she says. "And I'm [[done with you."|engagement over]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : spark point)]

$Name climbs to the second floor in a trail of drips and squelches, wringing out her clothes as best she can. The groom's door flies open before she even has a chance to knock. He pulls her inside. The groom's apartment is full of neatly stacked boxes, packed in preparation of the move into their new home and carefully labeled. What's not packed is orderly to the point of obsession. Pencils line up on his desk in the corner beside labeled sheaves of paper, and his single shelf of books is alphabetized by author's last name ("only the greats," he told her once). A diagram of a human lung hangs above his desk, and his small kitchen is spotless. Through the bedroom door, she can see the bed cleanly made, a few magazines arranged on the bedside table. She'd wondered more than once how much cleaning a wife would possibly have to do to maintain his standard. "You're a mess," he says, sinking back into his desk chair. "Don't drip on the carpet. I hope you've come to your senses." She lingers awkwardly on the doormat. She hasn't visited the groom's flat often. Without adult supervision, as her mother informed her, it would be improper. What would the neighbors say? He drums his fingers against the desk. "Well? Are you going to fix this?" [["Yes."|will quit for G]] [["No."|will not quit]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry groom appt)]

sulky because she did something other than photoshoot or angry because she kept job

$Name climbs the stairs in a trail of drips and squelches, wringing out her clothes as best she can. The groom opens the door before she can knock, his expression pinched and sour. "So you finally decided I was worth your time." He glowers at her as he motions her inside. "Don't drip on the carpet." The groom's apartment is full of neatly stacked boxes, packed in preparation of the move into their new home and carefully labeled. What's not packed is orderly to the point of obsession. Pencils line up on his desk in the corner beside labeled sheaves of paper, and his single shelf of books is alphabetized by author's last name ("only the greats," he told her once). A diagram of a human lung hangs above his desk, and his small kitchen is spotless. Through the bedroom door, she can see the bed cleanly made, a few magazines arranged on the bedside table. She'd wondered more than once how much cleaning a wife would possibly have to do to maintain his standard. She lingers awkwardly on the doormat. She hasn't visited the groom's flat often. Without adult supervision, as her mother informed her, it would be improper. What would the neighbors say? "I hope you're here to apologize about how you've been acting these last few days," the groom says, settling himself back at his desk. [[Voice doubts about wedding.|voice doubts to G 2]] [[Apologize for behavior.|apologize for behavior]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sulky groom appt)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name sighs. "I know I've been acting strangely these last few days, and I—well, I suppose I've been nervous." "I can tell." The groom crosses his arms. "Do you understand now, Barb, why you can't be a working wife? It's unhealthy. Not good for anyone." "I'll quit the job. First thing tomorrow, before the wedding. I'll quit." She looks at the floor. Not a speck of dirt on that carpet, his shoes all lined up in polished rows on racks against the wall, probably organized by day of the week or something. "Just nerves," she mumbles again, more to herself than anything. He stares hard at her for a long moment, then stands with give a curt nod. "Well. I'm glad to see you've calmed down and started being rational again." She closes her eyes against the static prickle of tears as he gives her a peck on the temple. "You're still mad?" "Not mad, Barbara. If you do as you've said." The groom sits back down and spins his chair around to face his desk again, reeking of wounded pride. "I'll see you at the altar. Go prepare and calm yourself. Have some soup or something. I hope I can't expect to marry a nervous wreck tomorrow." She lingers on the door mat, uncertain. "Good-//bye,// Barbara." As she steps out of the apartment, she touches her forehead. It feels hot where his lips touched. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : will quit for G)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"There's nothing broken." $Name leans back against the door and crosses her arms. "I made a perfectly fine choice about my future. I decided to work, and I'll work." A splotchy red creeps slowly into his cheeks. "If you've not come to your senses," he says, "I don't want to see you." "If I don't agree to quit, you mean." "Yes." He pushes himself to his feet. "I don't understand why you so insist on being stubborn. Scientists have proved that work is not the place for a woman. You would be happier and healthier at home. And what difference does it make? Marriage is imminent, and you'll have to quit once you're pregnant, anyway." $Name hates the way he towers over her when he stands. She forces herself to stay where she is, looking up at him. "About that," she says. [["I don't think I want it."|no to marriage]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : will not quit)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)$Name swallows. "No. It's about the wedding. Lately I—I've not been so sure about it." He huffs. "The catering will be fine. Your picky aunt can just have a salad." "No, that's not it. I mean... about whether we should have it at all." She clasps her sweaty hands in front of her. "About whether it's right for me." Stony silence. [["You've changed too much."|G's changed 2]] [["I'm not ready to commit."|no commitment 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : doubting wedding)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)"Yes, I wanted to say sorry," $Name says, looking away from him. Not a speck of dirt on that carpet, his shoes all lined up in polished rows on racks against the wall, probably organized by day of the week or something. "I know I've been acting strangely these last few days, and I—well, I suppose I've been nervous." "Aw, darling." His gaze softens. "That's only to be expected. I know how delicate your constitution can be when it comes to big days like these." "It's just been a lot," she says, twisting her engagement ring back and forth. "Between the wedding and my mother and leaving work..." The groom frowns. "Ah, work. Well. You should've left that place a lot earlier. I ought to have put my foot down. Still, I do hope it taught you a thing or two about responsibility and following instructions." There's a jokey lilt to his tone that doesn't quite reach the words he says. "Such as not refusing when I want to do something nice for you. That won't do once we're married. I want to be able to spoil you, yeah?" She rubs a foot against the doormat, eyes cast down. "I know. I'm sorry." "You're so cute when you do that." He chuckles. "The wedding will be lovely, angel." [[Affirm.|ready to marry]] [[Object.|no commitment 2]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : apologize for behavior)]

"You're not the same person I agreed to marry," $name says, looking down at her hands. The engagement ring glints on her finger. She twists it back and forth. "When you went away... things became different." The groom laughs. "I'm still me, darling. Not some simulacrum. I still want us to build this family together." "No, it's... you've been harsher. More distant. Not listening to me or what I want. Demanding I do this or that, making me leave behind my old photographs..." He raises his eyebrows. "Everything I've asked has been for you." "But you've never asked me what //I// want." "I know what you want. I know better than you what you want. And you've been in a strange space the past few days. Your mother's told me so." He stands, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's just cold feet, Barbara. Don't worry so much. You're confusing yourself." [["I don't want to marry you."|no marriage 2]] [["Maybe you're right."|agree with G 2]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : G's changed 2)]

"I've been thinking," she says. "I don't think I'm ready to be married. It's just... more than I bargained for." "You don't //need// to think, dear. That's my job. You're just getting cold feet." He stands, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're mine, darling, and I'll keep you and love you and protect you to the end. I'll be the best husband there ever was. No-one else will ever love you like I do." She shakes her head. "It's a commitment I don't want." "You're just confused. It's the wedding nerves. Once tomorrow's done, you'll wonder why you ever worried." He leans in and gives her a saccharine smile, as though he's talking to a child. "Come on, love. This is supposed to be a cheerful occasion." [["I don't want to marry you."|no marriage 2]] [["Maybe you're right."|agree with G 2]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no commitment 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She cannot let her cold feet and jitters take it from her. She cannot risk a life without him. Letting her fingers relax, she takes a calming breath. "You're right," she says. "I suppose I'm just—stressed." "Of course you are," he croons, just next to her ear. Then he pushes against her, all hot lips and tongue engulfing her mouth, his weight pinning her between the door and his body. Faint stubble scratches against her face. In college she would have pressed back just as hard and just as hungrily. But now she can barely breathe beneath his weight. Still, that weight is still comforting, in a way. It's familiar. It's the body of the man she loves. After a moment, he leans back, still holding her by the shoulders. "Just one more night, love. Tell your ma to make you a nice bowl of hot chicken soup for the nerves." As she steps out of the apartment, she touches her mouth, still slick with his saliva. It feels hot where his lips touched. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : agree with G 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"No. You misunderstand me." Frustration rises like bile in her throat. "It's not that I'm confused. It's that I don't want this wedding." He just laughs. "You're silly, Barbara." Her fingers curl into shaky fists. "I //mean// it." "I'm sure your dear mother will make you some nice chicken soup for the nerves. That's what prepping for a wedding is all about." "No!" She swings an arm up, knocking his hands away from her shoulders. He draws back in shock. "How clearly do I have to say it? I do //not// want to marry you!" Silence fills the little apartment. The groom's face darkens. "Oh, Barbara," he says slowly. "You don't mean that." "You heard me. I want to call it off. I'm done." "No," he says. [["I forbid it."|argument escalates 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no marriage 2)]

Her pulse pounds. "You //forbid// it? What the hell does that mean?" "It means that you will meet me on that altar tomorrow and say yes." "No. I said I'm ending this." His eyes look about to pop. "Who put these ideas in your head?" he snaps. "Work?" "Work has nothing to do with it! I //quit// my work!" $Name can feel a fine sheen of sweat forming on her forehead. "Not soon enough." The groom presses a hand to his forehead. "I knew I should've called a stop. It has confused you. Put strange ideas in your head." "I don't need work to put any ideas in my head! I'm perfectly capable of deciding for myself that I am //done// with this engagement." The static sting of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "And you said you //wanted// me to work, remember? That I'm a smart cookie, that I can do more? I thought I was marrying the man who told me that. The man I loved in college." "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't act like she'd rather not be one." Muscles grind in his jaw. "So be careful what you say, Barbara Williams." $Name [[squeezes her eyes shut|spark point 2]] to calm the pounding in her forehead. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : argument escalates)]

In her mind's eye she can see (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women in the Bible study again, the obsessively clean rooms, swapping pointless gossip over danishes and sweating over the toil of their next meal.](else:)[a vision of the house they might own, the rows and rows of pencils she'll have to organize, stacks of papers too important for her to touch, meals too salty or not enough. She sees checkered drapes, though she wanted stripes; she sees a bawling groom-faced child in a high chair throwing food.] (if: (history:) contains "speak to fran")[ She thinks of Franny, eyes rimmed red, shoulders tense.(if: (history:) contains "F changing")[ Of the cramps inside her, the changes no doubt now burrowing into her, resculpting her into something like $name herself.] (if: $graduate is true)[Of the happiness in her face when $name said she was staying, and the pout on Mr. Kellen's bulldog face.]] She thinks of the enigma of Carolyn, her promise of changes(if: (history:) contains "travel to motel")[, that clunker of a car with the dinosaur on top]. She thinks of her mother, the way she putters and scurries around the kitchen like a frenetic windup toy, serving and serving. She thinks of the shabby old dress and her box of memories gathering dust. Finally she thinks again about the teardrop in her sternum. The murmurs that pass there so delicately. The spines that glint so smooth on her arms. The stirring and prickling that wraps around her with every memory and climbs to the nape of her neck with a whispering grace. She takes a steadying breath and turns back to the groom. "You're an asshole," she says. "And I'm [[done with you."|engagement over 2]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : spark point)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"It's not confusion!" $Name says, voice rising. "I know what I want—I want this to be over. I don't want to marry you." The groom chuckles again. The sound writhes unpleasantly inside her. His voice is a saccharine sweet that sends goosebumps crawling all over her skin. "No matter what silly little notions these doubts of yours have put in your mind, you're still mine, Barb. Now please, stop being a problem patient and let me remind you what you //actually// want." He springs forward and presses hungrily against her, trapping her between himself and the door. Tight fingers grip her shoulders. Faint stubble scratches her face. The back of her head bangs on the wood as lips and tongue hot with saliva engulf her mouth. [[Hit him.]] [[Endure kiss.|endure kiss]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : forced kiss)]

(set: $engaged to false)For a heartbeat, he has no words. That ugly, blotchy red pools in his cheeks. A vein shudders in his neck. "Get out of my apartment," the groom croaks. //No—not the groom. Just a man now.// And she's nobody's bride. Something inside her is lifting, lifting. She feels she could just up and float. As he watches, she twists the engagement ring off her finger and throws it on the floor. It bounces once and rolls away under the radiator. "Get out!" he screams, advancing on her like a wild dog, hands reaching. She throws open the door and dashes down the stairs. His shouting behind her garbles to nonsense in the echoing emergency staircase. She flies through the front door and out into the rain. It feels so cool—so bracing on her skin—even as it soaks into her clothes and spirals down her forehead. Skidding on the wet pavement and splashing through puddles, hems dripping and shoes squelching, she runs and runs until the man and the apartment are far behind her. $Name she tosses her head back into the cleansing rain and laughs and laughs. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : engagement over 2)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She cannot let her cold feet and jitters take it from her. She cannot risk a life without him. Letting her fingers relax, she takes a calming breath. "I can't wait, either," she whispers. He stands with a creak of the chair. A moment later he pushes against her, all hot lips and tongue engulfing her mouth, his weight pinning her between the door and his body. Faint stubble scratches against her face. In college she would have pressed back just as hard and just as hungrily. But now she can barely breathe beneath his weight. Still, that weight is still comforting, in a way. It's familiar. It's the body of the man she loves. After a moment, he leans back, still holding her by the shoulders. "Just one more night, love. Tell your ma to make you a nice bowl of hot chicken soup for the nerves." As she steps out of the apartment, she touches her mouth, still slick with his saliva. It feels hot where his lips touched. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ready to marry)]

He frowns. "Of course you want a child. You're //motherly."// "No. The wedding." $Name takes a slow breath. "I don't want to get married." There's a pause. He stares at her. Then, to her surprise, he gives an airy laugh. "Oh, Barbara. Calm down. I think I know what this is. What you need is a hot bath and some warm chicken soup." Confusion creases her brow. "What?" "It's //nerves,// Barbara. It's gotten into your head, all these thoughts of working and calling quits and sabotaging our special day." He taps his forehead. "I should have seen this before. It's just cold feet, pure and simple. Don't worry so much. You're confusing yourself—making it so that don't know what you want." [["I know exactly what I want."|forced kiss]] [["Maybe you're right."|cede confusion]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : no to marriage)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)$Name puts a hand to her head. Her skin feels hot to the touch. "I—I suppose." Could it just be that—//all// of this? This humming in her stomach, the prickles on her arms that nobody else seems to see—only nerves? Does it matter? She squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. She cannot let her cold feet and jitters take it from her. She cannot risk a life without him. Letting her fingers relax, she takes a calming breath. "You're right," she says. "I suppose I'm just—stressed." "Of course you are," he croons, just next to her ear. Then he pushes against her, all hot lips and tongue engulfing her mouth, his weight pinning her between the door and his body. Faint stubble scratches against her face. In college she would have pressed back just as hard and just as hungrily. But now she can barely breathe beneath his weight. Still, that weight is still comforting, in a way. It's familiar. It's the body of the man she loves. After a moment, he leans back, still holding her by the shoulders. "Just one more night, love. Tell your ma to make you a nice bowl of hot soup." As she steps out of the apartment, she touches her mouth, still slick with his saliva. It feels hot where his lips touched. Almost searing. Something deep in the recesses of her abdomen withers. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : cede confusion)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +4)The flat of her hand catches him full across the face with a slap loud as a gunshot. He reels sideways, and she shoves him away. Her heart races in her ears. She backs up, one hand raised in defense, the other fumbling for the doorknob, her chest heaving. Her mouth drips with his saliva. He turns, wild-eyed, cheek throbbing a perfect cherry where her hand caught him. "You did not just hit me, Barbara Williams," he whispers. "You did //not."// "Fuck you." She swipes the back of a hand across her mouth and flings his spittle back into his face. "I hope I [[never see you again|engagement over 2]] in my entire goddamn life." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Hit him.)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -1)She freezes rigid against the door. Through wide, watering eyes, all she can see is his greasy hair and the white stucco ceiling above, warped by tears. Her jaw aches, and she snuffles, struggling to draw breath through her nose. A cold bead of sweat trickles down the back of her neck. He finally pulls away, cupping one cheek in his hand. The tenderness in his face brings bile to her mouth. "There, see?" he murmurs, wiping his own saliva off the side of her mouth. "This is what's important." Her legs shake beneath her. She clutches at the wall. It's the only thing keeping her upright. "I love you, Barbara." [[Flee.]] [[Stay.]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : endure kiss)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)(set: $engaged to false)Her fingers find the doorknob behind her. "Fuck you," $name breathes. She throws the door open and runs. His shouts garble to nonsense in the emergency stairwell behind her. She flies through the front door and out into the rain. It feels so cool—so bracing on her skin—even as it soaks into her clothes and spirals down her forehead. Skidding on the wet pavement and splashing through puddles, hems dripping and shoes squelching, she runs and runs until the man and the apartment are far behind her. Finally, knees shuddering, fingers trembling, lungs burning, $name sinks down on a dripping bench and lets the tears come. [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Flee.)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -8)(set: $engaged to true)Her breath comes shuddery in her throat. She squeezes her eyes shut. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is what she wants. This is her future. This is where she belongs. She repeats it again and again. Gradually, her breathing slows. When he wraps her in his arms, she can almost relax. "I love you too." [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Stay.)]

"I thought you were smarter than to take gossip at face value." $Name yanks her arm away and grimaces at him. "Did you //follow// me?" He rakes his fingers through his hair. "(if: (history:) contains "C excuse")['Old friend?' 'Just saying hello?' I never would've bought that. I knew you were either going to see some other man or that you were telling the truth and Carolyn has her claws in you again.](else:)[You've been acting all wrong, Barb. I thought maybe you'd met some other man or something. And then I saw that—that //vehicle// and I knew what happened. Carolyn's gotten her claws into you again.]" //"'Again?'"// "I remember those parties," he says. "How ungodly drunk you'd get, flailing around the dance floor like there weren't thirty other men there staring at you. How you two would just up and //vanish// into her dorm for hours doing God knows what rather than saying a word to me. How you'd call off our dates because of Carolyn this or Carolyn that. Or even drag her sorry single ass along with us." "And 'sorry single ass' can be my band," Carolyn says, chortling. "It took you //years// to become a decent girl again, Barbara," the groom says. "To be a woman worth marrying. This bitch is a bad influence." He snatches her arm again. "Now let's //go."// [[Go with him.|leave with G]] [[Refuse.|refuse to leave]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C defense)]

$Name pulls away and holds up her hands in a calming gesture. "It's something important! Look, darling, can't you see it?" Carolyn makes a quiet noise behind her—half scoff, half chuckle. Undeterred, $Name presses ahead. She lifts her arms into the light, exposing to the groom the black hooks that sprout from them like smooth thorns. "What's happening to me here—it's happening all over the country, all over the world even. You see? I'm changing, and so is she—and so are women everywhere."// Unhappy women,// Carolyn had said. $Name swallows. The groom stares at her in silence for a moment that stretches forever. "My God," he says at last. "You're high." Her arms drop. //"What?// No!" She looks helplessly at Carolyn. "Tell him!" "He can't see it," Carolyn says in a low voice. She shrugs. "They never do. What's the point?" "You're //both// high." The groom grabs $name by the chin and tilts her head forcibly this way and that, looking into her eyes. He grimaces. "We're leaving, Barbara." [["Why?"|ask why leave]] [[Refuse.|refuse to leave]] [[Go with him.|leave with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : explain changes)]

"Leave her be, prettyboy," Carolyn snaps, slapping his hand away. She plants herself between $name and the groom. "What if she doesn't want to see you?" "I have the right to say where she goes and who she talks to. It's my job to look after her. And how am I to know she wasn't meeting some other //man// in here?" He snorts. "Not like a loose gal like //you// would know what's wrong with that." Carolyn laughs. "Still salty I wouldn't boil your cabbages back in school, eh?" "You stay out of this, Carolyn." The groom tries to shove Carolyn out of the way. She pushes him away easily and turns to $name with a cocky tilt of her head. "He made a few //very// bold passes back in the day." She grins. "Not very pure of him, I must say. Didn't care so much for me being some loose gal then, did you?" He stares at her for a long moment, jaw clenched. Then he turns with a grimace. "Barbara," the groom says, "let's go." [["Why?"|ask why leave]] [[Refuse.|refuse to leave]] [[Go with him.|leave with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : say nothing)]

"Isn't it obvious?" He levels a finger at Carolyn. "I remember those parties," he says. "How ungodly drunk you'd get, flailing around the dance floor like there weren't thirty other men there staring at you. How you two would just up and //vanish// into her dorm for hours doing God knows what rather than saying a word to me. How you'd call off our dates because of Carolyn this or Carolyn that. Or even drag her sorry single ass along with us." "'Sorry single ass' can be my band," Carolyn says, grinning. She claps $name on the shoulder. "And this one's a dance-swinging girl from the heart." "Bullshit," he shoots back. "I remember her waltzing around campus with the purest little angel smile freshman year. I remember saying I wanted to marry that woman. How she'd look holding my hand, how she'd feel to kiss... and then she disappeared into those wretched dances with //you."// "Then I've got news for you, buddy. She partied long before I got there. That's why we're friends." He turns to $name. "It took you //years// to become a decent girl again, Barbara," the groom says. "To be a woman worth marrying. I will not have this happen again. I am removing you from a bad influence so that you can focus on our wedding." [["I don't want this wedding."|affirm statement]] [[Go with him.|leave with G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask why leave)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)$Name jerks away and backs up. "No! You don't get to just barge in here and drag me away. I will visit with whomever I please. That's not your business." She presses her palms to her temples and shakes her head, trying to clear it. "This is why I don't want to marry you!" The radio croons from the corner in the following silence. His voice is low when he speaks again. "What did you say?" [[Backpedal.|backpedal]] [[Double down.|affirm statement]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : refuse to leave)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name puts her head in her hands and forces down the lump in her throat. She steps toward the groom. Carolyn's hand slips off her shoulder as she moves away. The space where it rested feels cold. (if: (history:) contains "kiss!" or (history:) contains "ask for touch")[The ghosts of her fingers, her lips, her heartbeat pulsing through the flesh between them dance in tingles against her skin. $Name tries to shake them off. It was wrong, what they did. Debauched. Immoral. //Cheating.//] The groom—his touch, his mouth ringed by whispers of stubble, those careful doctor's hands—this is where she belongs. $Name closes her eyes as the groom wraps his arms around her. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she sees (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women of the Bible study, laughing and talking, in that bright and pristine home, swapping cheery gossip over impeccable danishes, worrying only about the next meal.](else:)[a clean, open kitchen, tidy rows of pencils, ironed drapes, a full fridge. She sees laughing children's faces and a bright blooming garden.] She thinks of her mother, whistling as she sweeps the house, and the way she skips around the kitchen cleaning and serving, cleaning and serving. The way the radio played softly downstairs when her parents sent her to bed as a child, the sweet murmur of their muffled voices and sometimes muffled other noises. This is her future. She holds it close. "You don't have to go, Barb," Carolyn says. "I won't let him, if you don't want." "No," she breathes. "I want this. Let's go." [["Good girl."|leave motel with G]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave with G)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)$Name slides her hands across her face to press the heels of her hands into her eyes. She releases a shaky sigh and tries to relax the aching muscles in her shoulders. "I... nothing. It's nothing." "I thought so," he says, staring at her with an unblinking gaze until she looks away. "I am removing you from a bad influence so that you can focus on [[our wedding."|leave with G]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : backpedal)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +2)"The wedding. I don't think we should have it. You're not the same person I agreed to marry." The words send an unfamiliar shiver through her. A wave of something that tingles up and down her spine. "When you went away, things became different. You changed. I've changed. This is not for me." He's silent. Then he laughs, shocking her. "I'm still me, darling. Not some simulacrum. I still want us to build this family together." "You don't listen to me! Demanding I do this or that, dragging me around, making me leave behind my old photographs." She blows a hiss of air through her teeth. Her heartbeat rises in her chest. "I //love// those photographs. I loved my time at college." He raises his eyebrows. "Everything I've asked has been for your benefit." Carolyn puts a protective hand on $name's shoulder. "Bullshit." $Name levels a finger at him. "You've never asked me what //I// want. Not once." "I know what you want. I know better than you what you want. And you've been in a strange space the past few days. Your mother's told me so." He leans sideways against the wall with an easy grace. "It's just cold feet, Barbara. Don't worry so much. You're confusing yourself." For a moment, she wavers. [["I'm certain."|certainty]] [["You're right."|choose G]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : affirm statement)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +8)In her mind's eye she can see (if: (history:) contains "Bible talk")[the women in the Bible study again, the obsessively clean rooms, swapping pointless gossip over danishes and sweating over the toil of their next meal.](else:)[a vision of the house they might own, the rows and rows of pencils she'll have to organize, stacks of papers too important for her to touch, meals too salty or not enough. She sees checkered drapes, though she wanted stripes; she sees a bawling groom-faced child in a high chair throwing food.] She thinks of Carolyn, so sturdy beside her, the open road ahead, the great big world beyond, full of mountains and deserts and bustling cities just waiting for that clunker of a car with the dinosaur on top to pull in. (if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[The soft pressure of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, so deliciously wrong and deliciously right.](else-if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[The soft pressure of her lips, the warmth of her mouth, so deliciously wrong and deliciously right. The nimble touch of her fingers sliding over her, //all// over her, dexterous and gentle.] Finally she thinks again about the teardrop in her sternum. The murmurs that pass there so delicately. The spines that glint so smooth on her arms. The stirring and prickling that wraps around her with every memory and climbs to the nape of her neck with a whispering grace. She takes a steadying breath and turns back to the groom. "You're an asshole," she says. "And I'm [[done with you."|G leaves motel alone]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : certainty)]

"Not with this one, you won't," he says. "I have the right to say where you goes and who you talks to. It's my job to look after you. And how am I to know you weren't meeting some other //man// in here?" (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch" or (history:) contains "kiss!")[Behind her, Carolyn snickers into her hand. $Name's cheeks burn. She keeps her gaze carefully fixed at a point somewhere over his shoulder. "No—no man." His eyes sear into her. She rakes both hands across her scalp, shaking her head—more to clear it of Carolyn's hungry touch than anything. "There was never a man here!"](else:)[Her mouth falls open slightly. "Because I—I wouldn't //do// that?" "Well, how would //I// know?" "You could—you know—//trust// me?"] He [[glares.|G conflict] "What, you think we're hiding a man under the bed or something?" Carolyn puts a fist on her hip. "There's nobody under there, unless you're worried she's fucking some dust bunnies behind your back." $Name sighs. "Please, there's nothing going on here." He shakes his head. "Carolyn is here. I cannot allow that."

By the end of the session, several hours later, $name's eyes sting from the flash of the camera bulbs. Teddy chafing between her legs, she waddles back to the dressing room. The groom and the photographer chatter like old friends behind her. Sucking her breath through her teeth, she peels herself out of the lingerie and gently touches the insides of her thighs. Raw as hell. She looks at herself naked in the mirror. Red marks crisscross her back and armpits where the teddy hugged her far too tightly. The makeup has settled into the creases of her face like old flour. With a sigh, she pulls on her normal underwear. It scrapes against her chafe marks. What will the groom think when he sees them? She swallows. She'd barely thought about tomorrow night. Did he expect her to wear something like //that?// All those bridal magazines her mother pushes on her—articles about making it perfect that she'd cringed at and skimmed. Advice on shaving and douching and oiling and bleeding. The groom is waiting out front when she reappears. That hungry grin crinkles his face. "Lovely, darling," he says. "I think we'll keep the one with the rose, the veil... head to the car, love, I'll settle up here." (if: (history:) contains "hide kept")[The phone rings as she slips out the building. "It's for you," the photographer says to the groom. But the door closes and muffles the rest. In the car, she leans back and closes her eyes. Mint mouth washes and lemon douches and vaseline swim behind her eyelids. The chafing stings faintly between her legs. The violent bang of the car door slamming makes her jump. She opens her eyes to the groom's [[furious face.|groom found out]]](else:)[In the car she leans back and closes her eyes. Mint mouth washes and lemon douches and Vaseline swim behind her eyelids. The chafing stings faintly between her legs. She sighs. The groom swings in on the driver's side a minute later, humming cheerfully. "All right!" he says, clicking on the ignition. The car rumbles to life. "Let's get you home, eh? Time to //really// prepare for the wedding. I expect you to be just as pretty and primped tomorrow." $Name runs her tongue over her dry lips. The white pit of the wedding yawns before her. This will be the last time she'll see him before they stand together at the altar. The last time to speak the thoughts churning in her mind. [[Voice doubts about wedding.|voice doubts to G]] [[Let him drive her home.|prep at home]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : session's end)]

There's rustling, a thump. And then Carolyn edges the door open a crack and peers through. "Barbara? How 'bout that." Her eyebrows leap up her forehead. "Didn't think you'd come 'round and see poor old Carolyn again." $Name sighs. "Well, I'm here now. Can I come in?" "Curiosity got the better of ya, huh?" "I suppose. It had better be something good.(if: (history:) contains "C excuse")[ I blew off a date for this.]" Carolyn chuckles. There's a click and a jangle as she undoes the door chain, then steps back to beckon $name [[into the room.|C's room]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C at motel (rude))]

The bed behind her is mussed, as though she just got up. The radio in the corner coos morning jazz laced with soft static. Her dark hair stands on end. As she steps back to let $name into the room, she sees that Carolyn's wearing nightclothes sheer enough to make $name redden and look away. Carolyn doesn't seem to notice. She throws the bedsheets into some semblance of neatness and turns the radio down to a murmur. The room is small, musty-smelling, its walls paneled with fake wood. "I thought you might not come," Carolyn says, giving the coffee maker in the corner a few good smacks. It gurgles and spits some brown liquid into a mug. She offers it to the bride, eyeing her with a frown. (if: $graduate is true and $reject is true)["Given how you flounced off like that."](else-if: $graduate is false and $reject is true)["Given how you shooed me right on out." "You didn't buy that Coke." She shrugs. "Schmitt will live."] [[Take coffee.|take coffee]] [[Refuse coffee.|refuse coffee]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C's room)]

Soon it was serious: they were going steady. They visited diners in town every weekend—he'd memorized her order before she even noticed she always got the same pizza, like clockwork. They danced and danced across the lawns until the campus matrons came crowing about curfew. Sometimes, they snuck into the seclusion of cornfields in his silver Dodge, where the summer sunsets blazed over emerald plants bearing ripe ears topped with delicate silk, and where she taught him what it means to be a good kisser. They studied together in the library, despite being helpless in each other's fields—he couldn't face a keyboard to save his life, and the great long words in his textbook might well have been some untranslated Greek nonsense straight out of her classics class. "They //are// Greek words," he said once, while she was quizzing him on terms. "Well, some of them." "Are you //sure// they're not just making this all up?" She licked a finger and flipped to the next page, frowning. "'Lingual frenulum' is definitely a type of pasta. And I think I went to preschool with someone named 'Glabella.'" He reached across the table and tapped her playfully on the brow. "Just wait until you find out about your supercilium." "No, //you're// supercilium." It wasn't long before he requested to meet her parents, and she knew he would [[ask for her hand.|Meet the parents]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : B&G dating)]

Once the cast came off he was his old self, for a while, if a bit quieter. His kisses were still warm, his hugs still tight, and the rare full grin as knee-weakening as ever. But she'd catch him staring darkly into space, as though challenging a spirit there. He never spoke of his time on the front, and she knew not to ask. Her parents didn't seem to notice any change. He came over often, drank with her father, and the sounds of their roaring laughter in the basement echoed up the stairs while $name helped her mother prepare dinner and drinks. Still, she noticed changes. He used to be a sleepy lightweight, refusing to have more than a few beers even at the hardest of parties and passing out on the couch when he got a little buzzed. But the way he stumbled against the walls and slammed doors and planted his reeking mouth on her lips even when she backed away first made her wonder if the war hadn't changed him after all. But he was still [[her fiancé.|mother likes G]] The war didn't change that. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : groom recovery)]

"Do you remember that photograph?" she asks suddenly. "At the spring formal, back in college?" The groom frowns in thought for a moment, then chuckles. "Oh yes. With that big dopey carnation on my chest." He shakes his head. "God, that was ridiculous. I hope nobody ever sees that thing. I should've asked you out in a more... //dignified// way." (if: not ((history:) contains "toss box"))[$Name pauses, thinking of the frame in the bottom of her box, with their bright young smiles side-by-side, swaying and swinging in the warmth of the music. ]"We haven't gone dancing in forever," she says, looking out the window as rows of white houses roll by. He doesn't reply, and [[she falls silent.|drive away]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : remembrance)]

something about spines, he can't see them

=><= (css: "font-size: 200%")[4. Aftermath] <== (if: ($engaged is false and (history:) contains "groom is pissed") or ((history:) contains "should say bye"))[(set: $homeAlone to false)When Carolyn pulls up to $name's house in her rattling car, the gray afternoon is dimming into early evening. She can see the glow of lights inside and wonders if her mother is making dinner, puttering back and forth between the stove and the sink, chop-chop-chopping her way through vegetables and meat. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Carolyn says. She gives $name a hard, long look from beneath her thick eyebrows. "If you're serious about this, Barbara," she says, "pack yourself up and come to the motel. I don't plan to wait around." "Okay," $name hears herself say. "Be... careful, I suppose." Carolyn follows $name's gaze toward the house. "I can guess what your mother will think of all this." The rain has slacked to a drizzle outside. On the porch, $name tries to smooth down her wrinkled clothes, but they're stiff from drying after earlier soakings. Behind her, the car chuffs away down the street. She takes a breath and (if: $quit is false and $dress is false)[[[steps inside.|pissed mother]]](else-if: $quit is true and $dress is true)[[[steps inside.|clueless mother]]](else:)[[[steps inside.|neutral mother]]]](else-if: $engaged is false)[(set: $homeAlone to true)The rain has slacked to a drizzle by the time she arrives at home. (if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[Her limbs feel heavy, and her eyes sting with every blink. The cold of the water feels as though it's settled deep into her marrow. Her spines drip.](else:)[The cold does not touch her. Her spines drip. Her skin feels like it could sizzle with the pace of her heartbeat.] On the porch, she wrings out her hair and (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[skirts](else:)[blouse]. Hand on her chest, she counts her inhale, then her exhale. She must look a true mess. Somehow, she barely cares. She (if: $quit is false and $dress is false)[[[steps inside.|pissed mother]]](else-if: $quit is true and $dress is true)[[[steps inside.|clueless mother]]](else:)[[[steps inside.|neutral mother]]]](else-if: (history:) contains "stay the night")[Wan light wakes $name early the next morning. She opens her eyes to a stained, unfamiliar ceiling overhead and someone breathing deep in the sheets beside her. The clock on the wall reads 6:32. It takes her a moment to remember. The sound of rain through the night, the fuzzy hum of the radio(if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[, Carolyn's warm hand cupping her cheek and brushing through her hair. Lying in bed murmuring together, Carolyn telling stories of her time on the road and $name of her life at home.](else:)[ nearly drowned out by labored breathing and breathless giggles. Carolyn's fingers tangled in her locks, pulling out the hairpins, pulling off her clothes, and then the weight of her body on $name's, her nimble hands all over. She recalls lying quietly in bed afterward, murmuring stories, foreheads pressed together.] And the heavy, exhausted sleep that followed. $Name hasn't slept so deep in a long, long time. With a little sigh, she turns to look at Carolyn asleep next to her. Wrapped in a nest of blankets, the covers pulled to her chin, Carolyn snores faintly. Her short, dark hair splays out across the pillow. She looks so soft like this, far from the smirk and swagger of her waking self. $Name had slept in her dorm room a few times during college, when she was too drunk to stagger back across campus in the dark but not drunk enough to stop quoting the //Iliad.// Carolyn always gave her the bed. The other woman [[stirs.|morning rise]]](else-if: $engaged is true)[$Name wakes early on the day of the wedding. Sunlight streams through her window and dapples the foot of her bed. The sky outside is clear and rosy, fading slowly to a rich blue. Birds sing and hop on the feeder. Somewhere in the maze of houses, a mourning dove calls amidst the twittering. She lies there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Faintly she can make out the ancient remains of tape that held up the pictures of stars she pasted there as a girl. (if: (history:) contains "travel question")[Around now, Carolyn must be packing. Or maybe she's packed already—waiting for a passenger who will never come. Or maybe she never thought $name would return in the first place. ]Her mind feels somehow far back in her skull, distant from herself. When her mother calls up the stairs for her [[morning preparation,|makeup prep]] the sound feels muted inside her, as if heard through deep, quiet water.](else:)[something went wrong] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : Aftermath)]

$Name clutches the banister as she makes her way down the stairs. She pauses before the front door, takes a steadying breath, then cracks it open. "There's—there's something I need you to look at on me, love." "Look at you? Anytime." "Well, it's... it's these." She opens the door. The strange spines glisten in the dull light. She bites the inside of her cheek. "I don't know where they came from." He blinks at her. "What are you talking about?" Confusion washes over her. "Can't you see them?" She holds out her arms, palms to the sky. The groom chuckles and stands from the bench, stretching. "If you're worried about how you look, kitten, I'd say you're a real eyeful." He runs his hands down her waist, lingering at her hips. His lips part in a smile. "In the best way. This's gonna be //ace."// His touch sends sharp prickles rattling down her tendons. $Name looks again at her arms, squinting, trying not to see them, but the spines still glint clear as day. "You don't see any... spines?" He raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I get your joke, angel," he says. "The only spines I know of are the ones inside our backs." She drops her arms to her sides and swallows. She must be going mad. "So... what's this surprise for?" she asks, a little faintly. "Getting rid of that silly job of yours, of course." He takes her by the wrist and steers her to the car. (if: $quit is false)[Her stomach sinks. She should've known. Her mother warned her he wouldn't be pleased... [[Tell him she kept the job.|reveal kept]] [[Stay quiet.|hide kept]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)](else:)["What is it?" The groom grins. "A photoshoot." "What?" He eyes her with a strange look, a hungry look. "Boudoir," he says. "Pinup." "Oh," $name says, a little faintly. She remembers a girl in high school who sold pinups to pay for college. And $name had once seen photographs of a former college classmate in the cache of porn magazines she stumbled upon when fetching socks for her father—the woman had wanted to be a psychologist. And Annie, the bride's aunt ("the //crazy// one," her mother said) had hers hung on the wall for anyone to see—all smooth ass and curved back and lace. She didn't do it for a husband. She didn't //have// a husband ("that spinster's too //crazy// to catch a man!"), only her longtime flatmate, Vera. The car grumbles to life. The groom notices her pause. "What?" $Name stares out the front window. A little warmth pools in her cheeks at the thought of posing like that, elegant as any magazine model. And the groom would love it—he'd look at her like he did back at the formal dance, like she was the only girl in the world. (if: $quit is false)[And perhaps it would soften the blow of her keeping her job.] But then again, other things are calling to her afternoon, other things she won't have time for if she accepts his offer. The Bible study on the family calendar, or the enigma of Carolyn waiting at the motel. Both beckon. The groom raises his eyebrows at her, tapping one finger impatiently against the wheel. [[Reject the photoshoot.|refuse boudoir]] [[Agree to go with him.|accept boudoir]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : choose dress)]

$Name clutches the banister as she makes her way down the stairs. She pauses before the front door, takes a steadying breath, then cracks it open. "There's—there's something I need you to look at on me, love." "Look at you? Anytime." "Well, it's... it's these." She opens the door. The strange spines glisten in the dull light. She bites the inside of her cheek. "I don't know where they came from." "I thought I said something cute." He frowns at her outfit. "What are you talking about?" Confusion washes over her. "Can't you see them?" She holds out her arms, palms to the sky. "I see we might have to get you a better wardrobe." He stands and stretches. "Well. Won't make a difference for long, eh? Let's go." $Name looks again at her arms, squinting, trying not to see them, but the spines still glint clear as day. "You don't see any... spines?" He raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I get your joke, angel," he says. "The only spines I know of are the ones inside our backs." She drops her arms to her sides and swallows. She must be going mad. "So... what's this surprise for?" she asks, a little faintly. "Getting rid of that silly job of yours, of course. Come on." He takes her by the wrist and steers her to the car. (if: $quit is false)[Her stomach sinks. She should've known. Her mother warned her he wouldn't be pleased... [[Tell him she kept the job.|reveal kept]] [[Stay quiet.|hide kept]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)](else:)["What is it?" The groom grins. "A photoshoot." "What?" He eyes her with a strange look, a hungry look. "Boudoir," he says. "Pinup." "Oh," $name says, a little faintly. She remembers a girl in high school who sold pinups to pay for college. And $name had once seen photographs of a former college classmate in the cache of porn magazines she stumbled upon when fetching socks for her father—the woman had wanted to be a psychologist. And Annie, the bride's aunt ("the //crazy// one," her mother said) had hers hung on the wall for anyone to see—all smooth ass and curved back and lace. She didn't do it for a husband. She didn't //have// a husband ("that spinster's too //crazy// to catch a man!"), only her longtime flatmate, Vera. The car grumbles to life. The groom notices her pause. "What?" $Name stares out the front window. A little warmth pools in her cheeks at the thought of posing like that, elegant as any magazine model. And the groom would love it—he'd look at her like he did back at the formal dance, like she was the only girl in the world. (if: $quit is false)[And perhaps it would soften the blow of her keeping her job.] But then again, other things are calling to her afternoon, other things she won't have time for if she accepts his offer. The Bible study on the family calendar, or the enigma of Carolyn waiting at the motel. Both beckon. The groom raises his eyebrows at her, tapping one finger impatiently against the wheel. [[Reject the photoshoot.|refuse boudoir]] [[Agree to go with him.|accept boudoir]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1)] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : show groom (pants))]

Wan light wakes $name early the next morning. She opens her eyes to a stained, unfamiliar ceiling overhead and someone breathing deep in the sheets beside her. The clock on the wall reads 6:32. It takes her a moment to remember. The sound of rain through the night, the fuzzy hum of the radio(if: (history:) contains "kiss!")[, Carolyn's warm hand cupping her cheek and brushing through her hair. Lying in bed murmuring together, Carolyn telling stories of her time on the road and $name of her life at home.](else:)[ nearly drowned out by labored breathing and breathless giggles. Carolyn's fingers tangled in her locks, pulling out the hairpins, pulling off her clothes, and then the weight of her body on $name's, her nimble hands all over. She recalls lying quietly in bed afterward, murmuring stories, foreheads pressed together.] And the heavy, exhausted sleep that followed. $Name hasn't slept so deep in a long, long time. With a little sigh, she turns to look at Carolyn asleep next to her. Wrapped in a nest of blankets, the covers pulled to her chin, Carolyn snores faintly. Her short, dark hair splays out across the pillow. She looks so soft like this, far from the smirk and swagger of her waking self. $Name had slept in her dorm room a few times during college, when she was too drunk to stagger back across campus in the dark but not drunk enough to stop quoting the //Iliad.// Carolyn always gave her the bed. The other woman [[stirs.|morning rise] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : wake in motel)]

(if called off wedding and kept job) (opener) - carolyn drops her off at home - walks home after groom's fit (scene) - can lie to mother about calling it off, then sneak out to meet C - can tell mother truth, might get disowned/kicked out if ma is angry enough - can go to C if has relationship - is left all alone - if too docile, quit job, must go to a shelter - if proactive enough, and kept job, can set out on her own - if not kicked out, mother does not want to see her - can tell her you're leaving—says good, she doesn't want to see you again - can decide to stay - if proactive enough, can set out on her own

(kept wedding) prep with ma for wedding; attitude changes based on job and dress $Name wakes early on the day of the wedding. Sunlight streams through her window and dapples the foot of her bed. The sky outside is clear and rosy, fading slowly to a rich blue. Birds sing and hop on the feeder. Somewhere in the maze of houses, a mourning dove calls amidst the twittering. She lies there for a long time, staring at the ceiling. Faintly she can make out the ancient remains of tape that held up the pictures of stars she pasted there as a girl. (if: (history:) contains "travel question")[Around now, Carolyn must be packing. Or maybe she's packed already—waiting for a passenger who will never come. Or maybe she never thought $name would return in the first place. ]Her mind feels somehow far back in her skull, distant from herself. When her mother calls up the stairs for her [[morning preparation,|prep for wedding] the sound feels muted inside her, as if heard through deep, quiet water.

An amiable silence falls over the little group, filled with pastry munching and tea sips. "Has anyone..." $Name starts. She trails off. The group looks at her expectantly. "What is it?" Delilah cocks her head to one side. "Well, it might sound odd, but... has anyone heard of humans growing spikes?" Nothing but blank stares. Franny, in the corner, starts slightly, as though she were dozing. "Have you been reading that awful //Horror// magazine?" Beth asks, a little faintly. "The one with the vampires and people turning into bugs? Come on, Barbara, they make that all up. It's tripe." (if: $quit is false)[[["Never mind."|kept work convo]]](else:)[[["Never mind."|quit work convo]]] [["That's not what I mean."|press point]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about spines)]

$Name looks down into her lap and folds her hands. Her spines glisten on her arms, in full view. "I //know// that, Beth. I'm talking about for real." Delilah gives a small, confused giggle. "You're funny, Barb." "Bad dreams?" Gertrude reaches over to pat $name on the knee. "It's just jitters, hon." $Name looks at Gertrude's arm, smooth and clear of spiky blemishes. //No—not entirely.// She looks again. There's something black there. Something cracked, just below the top of her skin. Like small, scattered slivers of bone. "Gertie," she says, putting a finger on the other woman's skin above where the black shards splay, "what's this?" Gertrude pulls her arm back, brow wrinkling. "It's... what are you on about? It's my arm." "There's something black. A shard of something. Something like—" Like the strange substance in her own arm, but broken. "—I don't know." "What?" Delilah leans over to look and giggles again. "She's just messing with you. I don't see anything." Gertrude gives $name a sour look. "I don't know what point you're trying to make, Barbara. It's not funny." $Name closes her eyes. Shattered spines. Seeing things. She releases a slow breath, trying to loosen the tightness in her chest. When she opens her eyes, she catches a glimpse of Franny staring at her from the corner, wide-eyed. But Nancy steps in and blocks her view, (if: $quit is false)[[[teapot in hand.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[teapot in hand.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : press point)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -2)(set: $franFriend to it -2)$Name stares in to her lap. "I don't //need// a damn husband to get it, Gertrude," Franny says. "I just think that squirting Lysol up your—" "Franny!" Gertrude cuts her off. "Language!" Fran glares at her, then swings around to face the window again, crossing her arms. [[Ask about spines.|ask about spines]] (if: $quit is false)[[[Don't mention it.|kept work convo]]](else:)[[[Don't mention it.|quit work convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't defend fran)]

When Carolyn pulls up to $name's house in her rattling car, the gray afternoon is dimming into early evening. She can see the glow of lights inside and wonders if her mother is making dinner, puttering back and forth between the stove and the sink, chop-chop-chopping her way through vegetables and meat. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning," Carolyn says. She gives $name a hard, long look from beneath her thick eyebrows. "If you're serious about this, Barbara," she says, "pack yourself up and come to the motel. I don't plan to wait around." "Okay," $name hears herself say. "Be... careful, I suppose." Carolyn follows $name's gaze toward the house. "I can guess what your mother will think of all this." The rain has slacked to a drizzle outside. On the porch, $name tries to smooth down her wrinkled clothes, but they're stiff from drying after earlier soakings. Behind her, the car chuffs away down the street. She takes a breath and (if: $quit is false and $dress is false)[steps inside.|pissed mother](else-if: $quit is true and $dress is true)[steps inside.|clueless mother]](else:)[[[steps inside.|neutral mother] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C drops B at home)]

The rain has slacked to a drizzle by the time she arrives at home, but her clothes are dripping once again. (if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[Her limbs feel heavy, and her eyes sting with every blink. The cold of the water feels as though it's settled deep into her marrow. Her spines drip.](else:)[The cold does not touch her. Her spines drip. Her skin feels like it could sizzle with the pace of her heartbeat.] On the porch, she wrings out her hair and (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[skirts](else:)[blouse]. Hand on her chest, she counts her inhale, then her exhale. She must look a true mess. Somehow, she barely cares. She (if: $quit is false and $dress is false)[[[steps inside.|pissed mother](else-if: $quit is true and $dress is true)[[[steps inside.|clueless mother](else:)[[[steps inside.|neutral mother] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : B arrives home alone)]

Her mother looks up from where she hunches over the cutting board, attacking an onion. The air swims with the scent of stew. "Oh, //there// you are," she snaps. Her lips flatten to a line. "Looking like something the dog dragged in. Been playing in puddles like a child?" $Name kicks her shoes off on the mat. "Hardly." "And what's //that// supposed to mean?" Her mother dumps the diced onion into a pot on the stove and grabs the spoon. Stew sloshes as she stirs. "And where on earth have you //been//, Barbara? This is //no// way to spend the day before your wedding." (if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[ A headache pounds in the depths of $name's skull. The scent of stew curdles in her sinuses. She puts two fingers to each temple and tries to breathe evenly.] [["I'm not getting married."|reveal called off]] [["Just let me go shower."|need to shower]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pissed mother)]

Her mother looks up from her perch on the kitchen stool, holding a book. The smell of stew fills the air. "Where on earth have you been, Barbara?" She hurries over to the entryway. "And what happened to you? (if: $homeAlone is true)[You're soaked!](else:)[Your clothes!]" She tugs at a loose strand of hair. "Use extra shampoo tonight." "Ow! Ma!" $Name pushes her mother's hand away. "You should have been //here,// Barb—getting ready for your big day. What have you been doing, playing about in puddles?" She clucks her tongue. "(if: $homeAlone is true)[And your hem. It's //filthy.// ]Is this any way to spend the last day before your wedding?"(if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[ A headache pounds in the depths of $name's skull. The scent of stew curdles in her sinuses. She puts two fingers to each temple and tries to breathe evenly.] [["I'm not getting married."|reveal called off]] [["Just let me go shower."|need to shower]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : clueless mother)]

Her mother stands by the stove, stirring a pot of stew. She looks up as $name enters. Her eyes are baggy and hooded. "Oh, you're back." Her brow furrows as she looks at $name more closely. "Where on earth have you been, Barb? Goodness, you're filthy." $Name wipes her feet on the mat and kicks her shoes off. "I'll wash," she mumbles. "What have you been doing, playing about in puddles? You should be prepping for the big day." She clucks her tongue. "(if: $homeAlone is true)[And your hem. It's //muddy.// ]Is this any way to spend the last day before your wedding?"(if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[ A headache pounds in the depths of $name's skull. The scent of stew curdles in her sinuses. She puts two fingers to each temple and tries to breathe evenly.] [["I'm not getting married."|reveal called off]] [["Just let me go shower."|need to shower]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : neutral mother)]

(if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")["No! We need to talk about how you've been acting, Barbara. And this attitude of yours. It's been unacceptable lately and it will not //stand// with your new husband." $Name makes her way to the stairs, suppressing a sigh. "I just want to wash off. Unless you want me to drip mud onto the furniture." "This is exactly what I'm talking about!" Her mother shakes a spoon at her from the kitchen. "Just let me shower, ma." "I expect you back here promptly," her mother calls after her as $name [[tromps upstairs.|shower]]](else:)["We can talk about that after I shower," $name says, patting her hair down. The hot water will do her good. Maybe it will still the pounding in her stomach. Her mother frowns at her for a moment, then waves her away up. "Don't drip on the carpet, dear," she calls after $name as she [[heads upstairs.|shower]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : need to shower)]

"I'm not getting married." "What?" "There will be no wedding tomorrow. It's over." Her mother blanches. For a moment, there's silence in the house. Thick enough to cut and tight enough to suffocate. $Name's stomach throbs, her third ear whispering against her insides, thrumming with the heat pouring through her. (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")["Barbara," her mother says, red creeping up her neck, "if this is a joke, I'm not amused." "I'm not joking. I called it off." Her mother's fingers tighten around the wooden spoon. Veins pop in her hand. "You did not." "My mind is made up, ma." "Barbara Williams," her mother says, voice cracking on the second name, "I don't know what you're playing at." "It's not an act. My engagement is over." "I will not stand for this," her mother hisses. "You will call your fiancé and take it back." [[Respond with anger.|dangerous path]] [["I don't love him."|don't love G]] [["I want a different life."|want different life]] (if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[[["He assaulted me."|G's assault]]]](else:)["I think—I think I misheard you, dear," her mother says faintly. "No. I called it off." Her mother clutches the countertop. Behind her, the lid on the stew rattles as it begins to boil. "But—but—darling, why would you...?" [["I don't love him."|don't love G]] [["I want a different life."|want different life]] (if: (history:) contains "Flee.")[[["He assaulted me."|G's assault]]] ] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reveal called off)]

(if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")["Of course you do," her mother snaps. "That's why you're engaged. Really, Barb, you don't know what you're saying." "I know exactly what I'm saying." $Name steadies herself against the dining table. "He used to think about me and what I wanted. He couldn't hurt a fly. He was goofy, smart, affectionate... he even //wanted// me to work." Her mother shakes her head. "Men grow up," she says. "And you should have too. You should listen to him." [[Respond with anger.|dangerous path]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]](else:)[$Name steadies herself against the dining table. "He used to think about me and what I wanted. He couldn't hurt a fly. He was goofy, smart, affectionate... he even wanted me to work." "But... he's the same man, dear. I'm sure he's just lost his way a little." $Name shakes her head. "No, ma. I know what man I loved, and this is not him. He's changed too much. We're done." She sighs. "He can find someone else to clean his house and pop out his babies." "Oh, darling." Her mother puts a hand to $name's forehead as though taking her temperature. "You're not well. The stress of this wedding has been too much. Maybe we should get a doctor." [[Respond with anger.|angry at clueless ma]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : don't love G)]

"The life he'd make me have is not the life I want to lead," $name says. The steadiness of her voice surprises her. "I don't want brooms or babies or douches or whatever else everyone keeps trying to force on me." (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")["And what instead, Barbara?" Her mother's voice takes on a mocking lilt. "Going to wander off into the forest? Hitch a ride on the next train out of town? While your days away as some old spinster like those damned aunts of yours?" She softens her voice. "Come on, dear. You know we've only ever given you what's best for you." In her mind's eye, in spite of her mother's mocking tone, $name can almost see herself on that train, the wind combing her hair back, or surrounded by looming trees like watchful green gods trailing fingers of moss. "I'm the only one who knows what's best for me." "No, Barb." Her mother shakes her head. "I don't want to treat you like a child, but you're acting like one." [[Respond with anger.|dangerous path]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]](else:)["Nothing has been //forced// on you, dear," her mother says. "You agreed to marry that man, and it's horrid of you to take it away from him the eve of your happy day." "Maybe we used to want the same thing. But he's not who he used to be, and I don't want the life I used to want." Her mother just shakes her head. Her voice takes on a babyish lilt, as though talking to a toddler. "Oh, Barbara. Come on, dear." She takes $name's hand. "Maybe we can get a professional to take a look at you for all these nerves. But for now, please just call him and take it back. I'm sure he'll understand, he's a nice boy..." [[Respond with anger.|angry at clueless ma]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : want a different life)]

$Name covers her face with her hands. She leans against the dining table for support as her knees begin to shake again. "Ma, he—he forced me to kiss him," she says, hating how her voice quavers. "He forced his horrible mouth on me, and—and pushed me against the wall, and—" (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[Her mother breaks out in derisive laughter that scrapes along her stomach like a dull knife. "You want to end this—//all// this—over one bad kiss?" "No! It's not just that, it's—it's like he wanted to swallow me alive." Bile rises into her throat. "The man I fell in love with would never do that." "Oh, that's ridiculous." Her mother sobers, shaking her head. "Darling, we need to get you to a doctor. The stress of this wedding has cracked you somehow. I can't have you acting this way." [[Respond with anger.|dangerous path]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]](else:)["You'd call of an entire wedding because—because he //kissed// you?" Her mother's brow wrinkles in confusion. "Honey, kisses are signs of //love."// "Not this one," she whispers. "It's like he wanted to swallow me alive." "Oh, darling." Her mother ghosts over to her daughter and puts both hands on her shoulders, peering into her face. "The stress of this wedding really has gotten to you, hasn't it? Perhaps we can delay it. We might have a doctor look at you, hm?" [[Respond with anger.|push clueless ma away]] [["I'm leaving town."|leaving town]] [["I'm done talking to you."|leave convo]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : G's assault)]

(if: (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "late to Bible study")[[["I've been at Nancy's Bible study."|tell Bible study](else-if: (history:) contains "travel to motel")[[["I've been visiting with a friend."|tell friend visit](else-if: (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[[["I've been at a photoshoot."|tell photoshoot]

$Name slaps her mother's hands away. "I don't need any doctor," she snaps. "I need everyone to just stop telling me what I should do and how I should feel." Her mother's face slackens in disbelief. $Name backs away from her, shaking her head. "He grabbed and—and forced his lips on me like that," she says, as the beginnings of tears press behind her eyes, "and all you can say is that I need a //doctor?// I hoped you'd //listen.// Support me in this." "Barbara—" "(if: (history:) contains "G's assault")[It's not about the kiss, ma!](else:)[It's not about //stress//, ma!] It's about //him// and how //awful// he's become. The man I loved would never have done that. I'm done with him. I'm done with all this." "Barbara Williams," she whispers. $Name can see her hands shaking. "I cannot believe the way you're acting. (if: (history:) contains "clueless mother")[You've done everything right—your dress is all ready—your job is over. ]I don't understand..." "I shouldn't have thought you would." $Name forces herself to look her mother square in the eye and speak slowly, deliberately. "Look, ma, it's done. I'm not taking it back. There will be no wedding. I am not getting married. How many times do I have to say it?" Her mother [[sinks|ma disbelief]] into the dining room chair closest to her. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : push clueless ma away)]

"I'm leaving," $name says, and a buoyant warmth washes over her. She lets out a heavy breath. Feels good to say it, like the words are already lifting her up and away from here. //"God,// yes. I'm getting out of this damn town. There's so much world out there." (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[Her mother lets out a humorless bark of laughter. "You don't know what you're saying, Barb," she says. "I'm getting away from him. I'm getting away from //you."// It seems realer with every sound, the road closer, the mountains beyond the horizon speeding toward her. "You wouldn't leave your family like this." $Name gives a flat chuckle. She turns and starts up the stairs. Somewhere in her closet is her old school bag. It should be more than enough to hold what she needs. "Barbara Williams, just where do you think you're going?" $Name just shakes her head steps onto the landing above. "BARBARA! Get back here!" But she's already in [[her room,|pack for travel]] her mother's voice muffled by the door.](else:)[Her mother's voice shrinks to a quaver. "Barb, you—you don't know what you're saying." "I'm getting out of here," she says again. "I'm leaving." It seems realer with every sound, the road closer, the mountains beyond the horizon speeding toward her. Her mother [[sinks|ma disbelief]] into the dining room chair closest to her.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leaving town)]

(if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[$Name presses a palm to her forehead. "This is useless. I should have known you wouldn't listen." "You're talking nonsense." "Whatever you say." $Name turns on her heel and stalks toward the stairs. "It doesn't change anything." "Barbara Williams, just where do you think you're going?" $Name just shakes her head and steps onto the staircase. "BARBARA! Get back here!" But $name just keeps walking. Her mother shouts something else behind her, but she feels distant now, distant and blurry. $Name locks her bedroom door behind her and falls face-first into her pillows. From the other side of the door comes thumping and more shouts. $Name lays silently in bed. Eventually they [[fade.|leave/stay decision]]](else:)[$Name backs away. "I should have known you wouldn't listen." "I //am// listening, dear, and I can tell that there's something very wrong—" "You aren't. You never have." $Name turns away and starts up the stairs. "There //is// something wrong, and it's not me." Her mother grabs her arm from behind. Her voice rises to a quivering soprano. "Please, Barbara, you don't mean it... just tell me you don't." $Name pushes her mother's hands away and shakes her head. "Don't do this, Barb. Call him..." "Give it up, ma." As she slips into her room and locks the door, she hears her mother let out a small, choked sniffle. $Name falls face-first into her pillows, closes her eyes, and tries to ignore the rising timbre of her mother's sobs. Eventually they (if: (history:) contains "travel plan")[[[fade.|pack for travel]]](else:)[[[fade.|leave/stay decision]]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave convo)]

mention that he once wanted her to work

$Name peels out of her clinging clothes in the bathroom and sighs at herself in the mirror as the water warms. Just a week ago, this all felt so simple, as straightforward as the aisle she'd walk down. She runs a hand over the grooves in her stomach, down the spines in her arms, and wonders what's next. (if: (history:) contains "see C's change")[Those strange patterns across Carolyn's skin? The nubs above her brow? That creeping green color all through her face? Something else?](else-if: (history:) contains "press point")[She recalls the broken black shards in the skin of Gertrude's arm and shudders slightly, drawing a finger over the tip of one spine. What would it feel like, to have them crumble away like that? Invisible to even herself, yet still buried inside her?] How many others can see her as she is? In the shower, she closes her eyes and lets the water cascade over her, steam rising in the bathroom. It flows down her chest and back, burbling through the furrow, dripping off the spines, pooling at her feet, so much hotter than the rain. It's nice, for a while, to hear nothing but [[its rush.|bedroom]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : shower)]

$Name pulls the suitcase out and flips it open. Still in her towel, she drags over the box of clothing from her closet and digs through it. What would she need, on her own? On the road? Comfortable clothes. Practical ones. Bras, underwear, socks. Extra trainers. Pads. Her childhood teddy bear. Her travel book. Her toothbrush and hairbrush. She works quickly, ignoring the pots and dishes banging impatiently in the sink downstairs. She has to sit on the bulging suitcase to zip it shut. On the dresser is her old piggy bank, heavy with years of pay for her (if: $graduate is true)[fast fingers' typing](else:)[grocery bagging]. She stuffs the whole thing into her purse. Whatever tension the shower had released is back now, in the frenetic jumping of her fingers, in the heartbeat in her ears, in the nagging feeling like she's a thief stealing her own belongings. "BARBARA!" her mother hollers from the base of the stairs. "I'm changing!" she calls. $Name stands and looks at her handiwork, breathing slightly heavier. She rubs the towel down the side of her face and turns to pull on some clothes. She could leave right now, if she wanted. As a child, when stuck with a timeout, she'd climb down the sloping roof outside her window and jump down into the yard. The windows in the kitchen faced the opposite way. Her mother wouldn't even notice. [[Pack and leave.|sneak away] [[Change and go downstairs.|confront ma] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pack suitcase)]

Her shoulders sag, and she breathes deep to let go of the temptation. Of course she can't just leave like this—or if she truly //wants// to leave right now, tonight, for that matter. Her mother is still her mother, no matter how little she'll understand $name's decision to leave this wedding behind, no matter how much she'll cry or yell. $Name owes her a goodbye, at least. (if: (history:) contains "through the window")[She lets the backpack drop to the floor with a dull, heavy //thump// and tries to will her rising adrenaline away.] "I'm coming, ma." Her mother is standing at the base of the stairs, fists on her hips and serving spoon in hand. (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")["Took you long enough," she snaps as $name descends. "Acting disrespectful, taking forever, refusing to fulfill basic wifely obligations—I don't know what's gotten into you, Barb, but you'd damn well better get it out before the wedding tomorrow."](else:)["There you are," her mother says as $name descends. "Come on. The table's set. You need a good, hearty meal before you take the aisle tomorrow. Not too big, of course—can't compromise fitting your dress—"] [["I'm not getting married."|reveal called off]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : confront ma)]

(if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[$Name doesn't owe her mother any explanation. Not after the way she's treated her. Yelling and screaming about wedding this and wedding that. Leaving now would just avoid another blowup. Maybe her mother would even prefer $name gone.](else:)[$Name swallows. Her mother would only try and convince her to stay, wheedling and guilting or even yelling. Even worse, it might work. $Name can't afford to second-guess herself now.](if: ($engaged is false and (history:) contains "groom is pissed") or ((history:) contains "should say bye"))[ Carolyn is waiting for her.](else:)[ Where she'll go—she'll figure that out.] She pulls the backpack out and unzips it. The little lucky rabbit keychain clipped to the zipper jangles. Her heartbeat rises. Still in her towel, she drags over the box of clothing from her closet and digs through it. What would she need, on her own? On the road? Comfortable clothes. Practical ones. Bras, underwear, socks. Extra trainers. Pads. Her childhood teddy bear. Her travel book. A flashlight. Her toothbrush and hairbrush. She works quickly, ignoring the pots and dishes banging impatiently in the sink downstairs. She has to sit on the bulging backpack to zip it shut. On the dresser is her old piggy bank, heavy with years of pay for her (if: $graduate is true)[fast fingers' typing](else:)[grocery bagging]. She stuffs the whole thing into her purse. Whatever tension the shower had released is back now, in the frenetic jumping of her fingers, in the heartbeat in her ears, in the nagging sensation like she's a thief stealing her own belongings. She locks her bedroom door and [[pushes the window open.|through the window]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pack in secret)]

(if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[A banging on the door rouses her. "Barbara!" her mother yells through the wood. "You've been in there forever! I'm still waiting!"](else:)[A knock on the door rouses her. "Barbara?" her mother calls. "Dinner's almost ready."] "Okay, ma," she says, more to herself than anything, and turns off the water. Her room is filled with boxes, ready for the planned move to her supposed future home. As she slips into some dry, clean clothes, her old school backpack, propped at the edge of her closet, draws her eye. She could leave right now, if she wanted. As a child, when grounded, she'd climb down the sloping roof outside her window and jump down into the yard. The windows in the kitchen faced the opposite direction. Her mother wouldn't even notice. (if: ($engaged is false and (history:) contains "groom is pissed") or ((history:) contains "should say bye"))[Carolyn would be waiting for her at the motel, ready to drive away together, away from this stifling little town and her former groom and her mother. They would be long gone by morning.](else:)[But where would she go, all alone? She could try to find Carolyn, maybe, or just ride the trains as far as they'll take her, with the money in her old piggy bank...] [[Pack and leave.|pack in secret]] [[Change and go downstairs.|confront ma]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : bedroom)]

The thick, humid air rolls through the window, heavy with moisture and smelling of wet grass. The sky spits water here and there in scattered droplets, barely a rain at all. All across the neighborhood, lights glow and dinners cook. $Name pulls the backpack over her shoulders. She pauses. Is this really how she wants to leave her mother, her childhood home, her town? Like some petulant child running away from a time-out, with not a word to the woman who raised her? "BARBARA!" her mother hollers from downstairs. [[Leave.|away from home]] [[Write a note.|leave note]] [[Stay and face mother.|confront ma]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : through the window)]

$Name shakes herself. //No.// She could never explain this to her mother, and her mother would never understand anyway. Her mother doesn't //have// to understand. This is $name's decision. This is her chance. She slips through the window and out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : away from home)]

$Name hesitates. She can't just leave //nothing.// As frustrating as her mother can be... she still deserves some kind of honest explanation for her daughter's disappearance. "Ma! I'm changing!" she yells, tearing a sheet of paper from one of her old notebooks. In a scribbly, shaking hand,(if: $graduate is true)[ speed honed by countless notes and transcriptions,] she writes [[a curt letter.|curt letter]] [[an apologetic letter.|sad letter]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave note)]

//Ma, I've called off the wedding. Good riddance. I'm leaving this town. I need to get out now, or I never will. Don't follow me. I'll be fine. I'll send postcards. I love you. Barbara// She pins the note to her pillow, gives the little room a final look, and slips through the window and out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : curt letter)]

//Ma, I'm sorry I have to leave like this, but I can't stay here any longer. I called off the wedding. My fiancé is no longer the man I agreed to marry. He will probably speak ill of me. That's fine. I've done what's right for myself. He can find someone else. I'm suffocating. If I stay here now, I know I'll always regret not leaving. I love you. Look after yourself and papa. Someday I'll be back. Barbara// Someday, she thinks, is a long time away. She pins the note to her pillow, gives the little room a final look, and slips through the window and out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sad letter)]

"You really mean it," her mother whispers. She presses the back of one hand to her mouth and looks at the floor. "You ended it." $Name pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers. "That's right. That's what I've been trying to tell you." Her mother swallows loudly in the silence that follows. "What did I do wrong?" she says at last, voice small. Her gaze is glassy. "I—I thought I raised you right, to prepare you for this responsibility..." "It's nothing you did, ma. It's just my decision." Her mother just shakes her head. A large, heavy tear rolls down her cheek, followed by another, and another. With a sigh, $Name turns to make her way upstairs. In her room, she [[falls into bed|pack for travel]] and tries to ignore the sounds of rising sobs below. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ma disbelief)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)She puts a hand to her face and presses two fingers into her eyes, sending little fireworks across the backs of her eyelids. It would be cowardly to just leave like that, to force her parents to clean up the messy fallout from all this drama—the abandoned plans, the relatives who'd arrived in town to attend, the disgruntled officiants. Slipping out through that window would be so easy. But it's her responsibility to stay. Her mother would be upset with her for a long time, but old wounds heal. As much of a pain as she can be, $name's still her daughter. She'd come to understand, eventually. And maybe someday $name would meet someone else, someone new, someone better, kinder... (if: (history:) contains "kiss!" or (history:) contains "ask for touch")[$Name swallows. Her jaunt with Carolyn was a lapse of judgment. Her mother didn't need to know about that.] Carolyn would move on, back to the road and her wayward, rambling life(if: (history:) contains "ask what it means")[—taking all her baggage, all her poor decisions and strange ruminations about spines and changes, with her]. With any luck, she wouldn't return to stir up //more// confusion and trouble in $name's life. $Name rolls over, pulls her blanket to her ears, and squeezes her eyes shut. Tired though she is, it takes her a long, long time to [[fall asleep.|stay home ending]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sleep)]

$Name sets her jaw. "Fine," she says. "Fine." She swings around, throws the door open, and breezes out into the night. Her feet carry her to the curb, down the street. She barely hears the door slam shut behind her. At the street corner she pauses and turns to face the sky. The brisk air cools the throbbing in her cheek, the rush of blood in her ears, the heartbeat that churns through her stomach and fingertips. Her breathing refuses to steady. Kicked out. //God.// A giggle bubbles from her throat. She wanted a new life. A fresh start. Well, now she has it. No cleaner slate than this—with no money for a train ticket, no car to drive away in, not even her purse and the loose change floating around in its depths. (if: (history:) contains "should say bye")[But she does have Carolyn, Carolyn and her promise of adventure, waiting at the Motocar. Her ticket out of here—and one that she doesn't need money to pay. She pushes herself to standing and makes her way [[down the street.|into the night]]](else-if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[Of course there's still the enigma of Carolyn out there, with her experience traveling around the country and her strange interest in $name. If she's still in town, maybe she'd give $name some advice, or even let her come along...](else-if: (history:) contains "wants to leave with C" or (history:) contains "join C?")[Of course, there's still Carolyn, in that motel on the edge of town. She'd said she'd take $name along...](else:)[And Carolyn is still in that motel on the edge of town, Carolyn and her experience traveling and tantalizing stories of life on the road. What would she think of a passenger?] She pushes herself to her feet. It's time to (if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[[[find Carolyn.|C has left]]](else-if: (history:) contains "Pull back." and (if: (history:) contains "gotta talk to G" or (history:) contains "gotta go home"))[[[find Carolyn.|sexually confused]]](else:)[[[find Carolyn.|walk to Motocar]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave house)]

Her cheek throbs, with shock more than pain. "You wouldn't just kick me out," she says, but her voice quavers around its edges. The older woman marches forward with a ferocity in her eyes that makes $name draw back. "I said leave," her mother says. "But—" Her mother reaches past her and yanks the front door open. The spoon quivers in her hand. "Go." Heart thumping in her ears, $name backs out the open door, half-expecting her mother to take it back, to beckon her back inside. But the door slams shut with an echoing rattle and a clank of the lock. A moment later, the front curtains swing shut. The night is silent. For what feels like hours, all $name can do is stare at the door. She touches her cheek with one hand. Bright red, she's sure. Her knees shudder. She sinks down to sit on the front step and presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. Kicked out. //God.// In spite of herself, in spite of the hot tears dribbling through her palms, a little laugh bubbles from her throat. She wanted a new life. A fresh start. Well, now she has it. No cleaner slate than this—with no money for a train ticket, no car to drive away in, not even her purse and the loose change floating around in its depths. (if: (history:) contains "should say bye")[But she does have Carolyn, Carolyn and her promise of adventure, waiting at the Motocar. Her ticket out of here—and one that she doesn't need money to pay. She pushes herself to standing and makes her way [[down the street.|into the night]]](else-if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[Of course there's still the enigma of Carolyn out there, with her experience traveling around the country and her strange interest in $name. If she's still in town, maybe she'd give $name some advice, or even let her come along...](else-if: (history:) contains "wants to leave with C" or (history:) contains "join C?")[Of course, there's still Carolyn, in that motel on the edge of town. She'd said she'd take $name along...](else:)[And Carolyn is still in that motel on the edge of town, Carolyn and her experience traveling and tantalizing stories of life on the road. What would she think of a passenger?] She pushes herself to her feet. It's time to (if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[[[find Carolyn.|C has left]]](else-if: (history:) contains "Pull back." and (if: (history:) contains "gotta talk to G" or (history:) contains "gotta go home"))[[[find Carolyn.|sexually confused]]](else:)[[[find Carolyn.|walk to Motocar]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : try to stay)]

There's rustling, a thump. And then Carolyn edges the door open a crack and peers through. "Well, look who it is," she says, eyebrows creeping up her forehead. "Didn't expect to see //you// around here." "You wanted to talk to me, right?" "I //did."// Carolyn frowns at her. "Before you were awful nasty back there. I thought maybe this place hadn't gotten to you yet, but—" She shrugs. "You've been listening to the wrong people." "Carolyn—" "It's okay, Barb, I know what you think." She waves a hand. "I'm outta here tomorrow morning. Don't worry, not gonna gum up your precious little town for long." She starts to shut the door. [[Let her.|closed out]] [[Stop her.|C reveals a little]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : too rude)]

$Name slaps her mother's hands away. "I don't need any doctor," she snaps. "I need everyone to just stop telling me what I should do and how I should feel." Her mother's face slackens in disbelief. $Name backs away from her, shaking her head. "I just want you to listen to me. Listen to what I'm saying. I don't want to marry him. That's the end of it." "Barbara, your nerves—" "It's not about //nerves,// ma! It's about //him// and how //awful// he's become. The man I loved would never have done that. I'm done with him. I'm done with all this." "Barbara Williams," she whispers. $Name can see her hands shaking. "I cannot believe the way you're acting. (if: (history:) contains "clueless mother")[You've done everything right—your dress is all ready—your job is over. ]I don't understand..." "I shouldn't have thought you would." $Name forces herself to look her mother square in the eye and speak slowly, deliberately. "Look, ma, it's done. I'm not taking it back. There will be no wedding. I am not getting married. How many times do I have to say it?" Her mother [[sinks|ma disbelief]] into the dining room chair closest to her. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry at clueless ma)]

When the house is silent at last, $name rolls over and stares up at the sloped ceiling overhead. Night has truly fallen now, and the streetlights outside cast sharp black shadows above her. Faintly she can make out the ancient remains of tape that held up the pictures of stars she pasted there as a girl. The faint chirp of suburban crickets filters into her room and dances in little tingles along her stomach. Otherwise, all is quiet. (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[Her mother must have raged herself to sleep. Or maybe she just left. Who knows.](else:)[Her mother must have cried herself to sleep.] Through the window she can see the trimmed square of lawn behind their house, the patch of victory garden her mother so carefully tended, all purple in the darkness. There, beside it, she spots the small square where her sandbox used to be, where she'd trot her little dolls back and forth, pretending they were traversing distant dunes or a family living room populated by sandy mounds for chairs. Beyond that, beneath the small elm in the corner of the yard, is the final resting place of her childhood hamster Barry, too far in the dark to make out. Her mother had sewn him a funeral shroud and written a euology. Her father helped her craft a rough wooden cross in the garage. Barry's probably more tree than hamster now, down under the soil. She rubs her eyes and allows herself a long sigh. Her mother's (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[anger](else:)[distress] would fade. This incident would fade. Life would go on, like it had after the fight when her mother had discovered cigarettes in her bedside drawer in high school, or when she dropped and shattered her grandmother's china vase. History, now. This would become history. It wouldn't be bad, she thinks, to stay here. Uncomfortable, at first. But all would pass. Yet there's a world beyond these walls that waits for her, unknown and untried. Her best chance to travel. And her decision to call off this wedding is surely larger than breaking a vase or taking a puff. It would be easier to leave this place and let the chips fall where they may in her absence. (if: (history:) contains "groom has followed!")[Carolyn is waiting for her on the edge of town, ready to whisk her away to newer, better places, far from here.] [[Stay at home.|sleep]] [[Leave home.|pack for travel]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : leave/stay decision)]

(if: (history:) contains "leave/stay decision")[(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)$Name pushes herself up from the bed with a new sense of purpose thrumming through her. There's more to life than this little house and the claustrophobia of the town around it. She cannot let guilt keep her tied down. Keep her from finding out what's beyond these walls.](else:)[$Name rises when the house below her falls quiet at last. Night has truly fallen now. The faint chirp of suburban crickets filters into her room and dances in little tingles along her stomach. (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[Her mother must have raged herself to sleep. Or maybe she just left the house. Who knows.](else:)[Her mother must have cried herself to sleep.]] The bedroom is filled with boxes, ready for the planned move to her supposed future home. Her old school backpack, propped at the edge of her closet, draws her eye. $Name pulls the backpack out and unzips it. The little lucky rabbit keychain clipped to the zipper jangles. Her heartbeat rises. She drags over the box of clothing from her closet and digs through it. She pulls on fresh, clean clothes, casts aside her ratty rain-drenched garments, and sets to work packing. What would she need, on the road(if: (history:) contains "travel plan")[ with Carolyn]? Practical outfits. Bras, underwear, socks. Extra trainers. Pads. Her passport, hidden at the bottom of her sock drawer. After a moment, she stuffs in her childhood teddy bear, as well. Her travel book. A flashlight. Her toothbrush and hairbrush. She has to sit on the bulging backpack to zip it shut. On the dresser is her old piggy bank, heavy with years of pay for her (if: $graduate is true)[fast fingers' typing](else:)[grocery bagging]. She stuffs the whole thing into her purse. Her fingers jump and shudder, frenetic with excitement. She's doing it. She's really leaving. (if: (history:) contains "pissed mother")[[[Say goodbye to mother.|goodbye, angry ma]]](else:)[[[Say goodbye.|goodbye, sad ma]]] [[Just go.|out the front door]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : pack for travel)]

Dreams chase dreams in her head. Flickers of mountaintops and rivers raging along narrow canyons. She's falling, running, stumbling. Sheep biting her hands. Hawks circling her head like bees. Vines growing from her shoulders and gnawing into her skin. $Name jolts awake sweaty and goosebumped on the morning of what would've been her wedding day. Outside the window, dawn is barely breaking—a rosy tint on the horizon, little more. She sinks back into the pillow and presses her fingers to her eyes. (if: (history:) contains "travel question")[Around now, Carolyn must be packing. Or maybe she's packed already—waiting for a passenger who will never come. Or maybe she never thought $name would return in the first place. She tries to push the thoughts from her mind] No noise from the house. Her mother—father, too, surely he's back by now—must still be sleeping. What would she have told him? Was her sleep just as restless? $Name flips onto her back and spreads her arms until they fall over the sides of her narrow bed. She closes her eyes, vowing to make this up to her parents. She has to. Maybe they'll let her get a job again, or take some night classes... As she sinks again into an uneasy sleep, $name does not notice the small black shards that crack and fall from her arms, nor the way the skin of her abdomen wilts and shivers. Inner hum and outer spines, gone. When she wakes, both will be forgotten. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : stay home ending)]

Backpack over one shoulder, $name tiptoes down the hallway to her parents' room. The door is open slightly, dim orange light from the bedside lamp pouring through. She turns away and slips down the stairs. A goodbye would only make things more complicated. (if: (history:) contains "leave convo")[She pauses at the door. If she just vanishes into the night without a word, her mother will probably call the police. With a sigh, she rips a page from one of the magazines on the kitchen table and takes a pen from the drawer. In a slightly shaky hand, she writes [[a curt letter.|curt letter 2]] [[an apologetic letter.|sad letter 2]]](else:)[She pauses at the door, hand on the knob, and gives the dim living room a last, long look. The books on language and etiquette, paintings of delicate orchids and dahlias in full bloom on the mantle, the now-empty fireplace where she'd sit on snowy winter nights while her mom hummed carols from the kitchen. Maybe she'll be back someday. But not for a long, long time. The front door makes a satisfying click behind her as she steps out [[into the night.|into the night]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : out the front door)]

Backpack over one shoulder, $name tiptoes down the hallway to her parents' room. The door is open slightly, dim orange light from the bedside lamp pouring through. To her surprise, her mother is not in bed. Instead, she sits at the desk in the corner, hunched over a sheet of paper. $Name pushes the door open. The hinges whine a little. "Ma?" Her mother starts slightly and turns. Her cheeks have lost the angry red, and now their paleness only serves to highlight the heavy bags beneath her eyes. She peers warily at $name. "Oh. It's you." Tentative, $name slips into the room. When her mother doesn't respond, she sits at the foot of the bed. (if: (history:) contains "leave convo")[She draws a breath. "I'm leaving, ma." "Leaving?" "I'm going to travel." $Name fidgets on the edge of the bed. "I'll send postcards. If you'd like." Her mother stares at her for a long, hard moment, expression unreadable. Then she turns away again, back to her work. $Name can see it now—she's painting. The lines on her page are ragged, unformed. If the image has a subject, $name can't tell what it is. $Name just watches her for a long time. The rasp of brush on paper is the only sound. "I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye," $name says at last. Her mother's eyes stay fixed on the paper, but $name can see her fingers shake slightly around the brush, and when she speaks, her voice quivers around the words. "Well. Goodbye, then, Barbara." $Name waits, but her mother doesn't say anything else. She stands. After a moment's hesitation, she dips her head and gives her mother a soft kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye, ma." She stands and takes the door handle. But before she can step outside, so soft she almost misses it, her mother whispers, "send the postcards, Barb." "I will."](else:)[ "I thought you might have up and left already," her mother says. Her tone is flat, but $name can hear a small, fearful quiver at the corners of her words. "I couldn't leave without saying goodbye." "Then you've learned one thing from me, at least." Her eyes are glassy, tinged with red. She's been crying, $name realizes. "You're really leaving." "I am." $Name swallows and looks toward the ceiling. "I'll send postcards. If you'd like." Her mother stares at her for a long, hard moment, expression unreadable. Then she turns away again, back to her work. $Name can see it now—she's painting. The lines on her page are ragged, unformed. If the image has a subject, $name can't tell what it is. "Well. Goodbye, then, Barbara." $Name waits, but her mother doesn't say anything else. She stands. After a moment's hesitation, she dips her head and gives her mother a soft kiss on the cheek. "Goodbye, ma." She stands and takes the door handle. But before she can step outside, so soft she almost misses it, her mother whispers, "send the postcards, Barb." "I will."] Downstairs, the front door makes a satisfying click behind her as she steps out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : goodbye, angry ma)]

Backpack over one shoulder, $name tiptoes down the hallway to her parents' room. The door is open slightly, dim orange light from the bedside lamp pouring through. She can see her mother curled in a fetal position on the far side of the bed. A small sniffle and a hiccup tell her that her mother is still awake. Softly, $name pushes the door open. The hinges whine a little. "Ma?" Her mother's breathing slows, but she doesn't answer. $Name sits down at the foot of the bed. "I—I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye." Still no response. "I'll send you postcards. If you'd like." Her mother shifts below the sheets and finally looks at $name. Her eyes are glassy and pinkish, and she clutches a soggy tissue in one hand. "I—I'd like that." Her voice scratches, ragged in her throat. "I don't know what I'll do, Barb." "I'd be leaving either way, with this whole marriage affair," $name points out, trying to gentle her voice. "I'm just doing it on my own terms now." She looks toward the dresser, where a framed watercolor of an orchid has perched for as long as she can remember. "Start painting again." The blanket around her mother's head shifts in what might be a nod or might be a quiet sob. "If—if you //have// to do this—" She shudders and presses the tissue to her face for a moment. "Just—please be careful, love. Be careful." "I will, ma." $Name waits for a moment. When her mother doesn't respond, she leans down and plants a small, tender kiss on her cheek. "I love you." She stands to leave. From the blankets, so soft she almost misses it, her mother whispers, "I love you too, Barbara." Downstairs, the front door makes a satisfying click behind her as she steps out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : goodbye, sad ma)]

Streetlights reflect off deep, still puddles from the day's rain. All along the street, families are asleep in their beds, or else dozing in front of the nightly news. Flickers of televisions glow out from between closed curtains. A dog barks as she passes. (if: (history:) contains "travel plan" or (history:) contains "should say bye")[Few buses run this late at night. $Name doesn't care. The night air feels crisp and bracing against her skin, smelling of wet grass. With every step, she feels lighter. It takes her a good half hour to walk to the Motocar. The moon peeks between scattered clouds, flanked by the few stars visible above the town's lights. She's read that far off in the mountains, away from any other people, you can see thousands upon thousands of stars, pouring through the sky in a silvery river overhead. Real magic. The car with its dinosaur is still parked in the lot, and light glowing between the curtains tells her that Carolyn is still awake. She [[knocks.|meet C to leave]]](else:)[She pauses in a nearby park to get her bearings. The playground equipment is empty. $Name sinks onto one of the swings and pushes herself gently back and forth with a toe, the chains creaking softly. What now? The adrenaline of leaving is wearing off, and the night is vast and dark. A bag of clothes, some cash, and grand notions of adventure. With a furtive glance around the park, she pours the money from her piggy bank into her lap and counts it. (if: $graduate is true)[To her surprise, the savings from the firm are more than enough for a ticket on an ocean liner.](else:)[The savings from the grocery store holds more than she thought. Maybe not enough to travel to Europe, but certainly enough to buy some train tickets out of this place and still have enough for food and board if she's careful.] She scoops the cash carefully back into its container and sits back with a sigh. (if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[Of course there's still the enigma of Carolyn out there, with her experience traveling around the country and her strange interest in $name. If she's still in town, maybe she'd give $name some advice, or even let her come along...](else-if: (history:) contains "wants to leave with C" or (history:) contains "join C?")[Of course, there's still Carolyn, in that motel on the edge of town. She'd said she'd take $name along...](else:)[And Carolyn is still in that motel on the edge of town, Carolyn and her experience traveling and tantalizing stories of life on the road. What would she think of a passenger?] [[Set off alone.|lone wolf ending]] (if: (history:) contains "leave C" or (history:) contains "Bible house" or (history:) contains "to the photoshoot")[[[Find Carolyn.|C has left]]](else-if: (history:) contains "Pull back." and (if: (history:) contains "gotta talk to G" or (history:) contains "gotta go home"))[[[Find Carolyn.|sexually confused]]](else:)[[[Find Carolyn.|walk to Motocar]]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : into the night)]

//Ma, I'm leaving this town. I need to get out now, or I never will. Don't follow me. I'll be fine. I'll send postcards. I love you. Barbara// She places the note beneath a magnet on the fridge, prominently displayed for when her mother descends to make coffee, or when her father arrives early the next morning from his business trip. At the door, she pauses, hand on the knob, and gives the dim living room a last, long look. The books on language and etiquette, paintings of delicate orchids and dahlias in full bloom on the mantle, the now-empty fireplace where she'd sit on snowy winter nights while her mom hummed carols from the kitchen. Maybe she'll be back someday. But not for a long, long time. The front door makes a satisfying click behind her as she steps out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : curt letter 2)]

//Ma, I'm sorry I have to leave like this, but I can't stay here any longer. I'm suffocating. If I stay here now, I know I'll always regret not leaving. I love you. Look after yourself and papa. Someday I'll be back. I promise I'll send postcards. Barbara// She places the note beneath a magnet on the fridge, prominently displayed for when her mother descends to make coffee, or when her father arrives early the next morning from his business trip. At the door, she pauses, hand on the knob, and gives the dim living room a last, long look. The books on language and etiquette, paintings of delicate orchids and dahlias in full bloom on the mantle, the now-empty fireplace where she'd sit on snowy winter nights while her mom hummed carols from the kitchen. Maybe she'll be back someday. But not for a long, long time. The front door makes a satisfying click behind her as she steps out [[into the night.|into the night]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : sad letter 2)]

Carolyn opens the door right away, still dressed in her sheer pajamas. She grins at the sight of $name and her backpack, and $name finds herself grinning back. "That was quick," Carolyn says. "I didn't think I'd see ya until tomorrow." $Name shrugs as she steps through the door. "I was ready to go." (if: $girlfriend is true)["And I," Carolyn says, wrapping an arm around $name's waist, "am ready to take you." The heat of her skin and the gust of her breath in $name's ear makes $name shiver slightly. "Glad I could—could bum a ride," she says. "I thought you might not come," Carolyn says after a moment, her voice softer. "It's always easier to stay where you are. That was the hardest part, for me. Even though I wanted out so bad." "It helps to have a chaffeur." Carolyn chuckles. "Especially such a //fetching// one, I'm sure." She squeezes $name around the middle. "Oh, Barbara. You can't even imagine. I'm gonna take you //everywhere."// "Good," $name says, turning in Carolyn's arms to face her. She puts her own hands on Carolyn's shoulders. In the instant before their lips meet, she whispers, "because that's [[exactly|girlfriend ending]] where I want to go."](else:)[Carolyn nods her approval. "The happiest campers come prepared." "Just glad you wanted me to come." $Name sets her backpack down by the door and plops onto the bed, stretching. "I'm not sure where I would've gone otherwise. Taken a train out of town, maybe..." Carolyn sits beside her. "I thought you might not come," she says, her voice softer. She bounces a knee. "It's always easier to stay where you are. That was the hardest part, for me. Even though I wanted out so bad." "If you hadn't come to town," $name says, "I'm not sure that I would've. And I wouldn't have known what to do with... these." She gestures to herself, to her spines and stomach. "Will I... keep changing?" "Maybe," Carolyn says. After a moment, she adds, //"I// hope so, anyway. We're on the brink of something big, Barb. And besides—" She lifts her hand and runs a finger across $name's forehead, quick as a whisper. "I think you'd look good with antennae." "Oh." A strange heat pools in $name's cheeks. "Thanks?" "We'll set off early," Carolyn says, clapping her hands like a drill sergeant. "Break of dawn. So we'd best get some sleep." She grins. "The [[world|go with C ending]] awaits."] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : meet C to leave)]

(if: (history:) contains "train station")[$Name shakes herself from her reverie and turns to the train station,](else:)[Her feet are sore by the time she reaches the train station,] a small brick building with a squat clock tower glowing on the roof. The time reads 11:48. A man dozes behind the ticket window, each soft snore ruffling his sizeable moustache. She knocks on the glass until he jumps. "One ticket for the 12AM," she says, fishing for change in her bag. "Return trip?" He rubs one eye and squints at her. She drops the coins on the counter with a satisfying clink and pushes them over to him. "No thanks." Bemused, he shakes his head and passes the ticket through. "Where're you even going, this time of night?" "Away." The train pulls up as she reaches the platform. A couple of yawning men with crooked ties disembark, home from the city, she imagines. Off to their quiet little homes. A few more passengers doze in the front car, heads propped against suitcases or resting on jackets as makeshift pillows. But $name has never felt more awake. She settles down in the front row window seat, backpack in her lap, trying to calm the jitters in her fingers. The train blows a long whistle that reverberates down into her gut like a bow against a violin string. The great engine groans, and the heavy wheels chuff and rumble as they strain against the track. And then the train is moving, gathering speed, rushing ahead into the night. $Name presses her cheek against the glass and gazes toward the dark country hills in front of her, toward the great wide world waiting for her just beyond their peaks. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : lone wolf ending)]

Few buses run this late at night, so it takes $name a good half hour to walk to the Motocar. The moon peeks between scattered clouds, flanked by the few stars visible above the town's lights. She's read that far off in the mountains, away from any other people, you can see thousands upon thousands of stars, pouring through the sky in a silvery river overhead. Real magic. In the Motocar parking lot, she stops. (if: (history:) contains "late to Bible study")[The space outside room 114 is empty. On the pavement of the empty spot is a dry patch where the car was parked.](else:)[There are no cars in the lot.] "The dark-haired woman? She left about a half hour ago," the rumpled clerk at the motel check-in desk tells $name, when she inquires. "Going where?" He just shrugs. Outside the check-in office, $name sinks onto a damp bench and leans back until her head touches the side of the building. A few low clouds scurry across the dark sky. She closes her eyes. (if: (history:) contains "leave C")[Of course Carolyn left—why would she have stuck around, after $name cut her short and just walked away?](else:)[Why on earth hadn't she come here sooner? Whatever Carolyn had wanted to tell her, she'd never find out.] Carolyn could be headed anywhere now. $Name can imagine that clunky old car rumbling into the night, far away. (if: (history:) contains "leave house" or (history:) contains "try to stay")[She wraps her arms around herself with a shiver. The heat of the day is fading, leaving only chill and sticky post-rain humidity. The night feels very empty now, a blank expanse of dark with no place for the penniless. A sigh of wind gusts through her. She needs to do //something.// The brochure stand under the motel awning contains a collection of [[maps|check map]] of the area. $Name takes one and unfolds it.](else:)[Somewhere off in the hills, a train blows a distant whistle. $Name opens her eyes. She doesn't need Carolyn to hold her hand. She can make her own way [[out of this place.|lone wolf ending]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C has left)]

Dawn strengthens from a dusky purple to salmon pink to rich blue as the blazing sun rises into a sky devoid of clouds. The car roars down the highway, windows down, the forest a blur of verdant green and the small town a memory past the horizon's curve behind them. One hand tight on the wheel, the other squeezing $name's fingers tight between the seats, Carolyn belts lyrics in perfect harmony to her tinny radio and cracks 80 on the freeway. The wind sweeps her hair to a black fan streaming out behind her head. The mottled marks on her skin glitter in the morning sun. The bass beat pulses inside $name, inside them both, a sound and a sensation that only they can feel. The world unfolds ahead of her, rolling out in a great green carpet as far as her future stretches—a future bright and clear and entirely her own. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : girlfriend ending)]

Dawn strengthens from a dusky purple to salmon pink to rich blue as the blazing sun rises into a sky devoid of clouds. The car roars down the highway, windows down, the forest a blur of verdant green and the small town a memory past the horizon's curve behind them. Carolyn leans into the wind, hair streaming back behind her head in a black fan, the heel of one hand draped carelessly over the wheel as she breaks 80 around a curve. $Name grips the edge of the seat and breathes in the fresh morning air that whistles through her open window. She stretches a hand outward. Wind rushes between her fingers. Her skin glitters with a faint, incandescent mottling in the rising sun. The rumble of the engine rolls inside her, deep as the sleepy purr of a giant cat. The world unfolds ahead of her, rolling out in a great green carpet as far as her future stretches—a future bright and clear and entirely her own. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : go with C ending)]

A long moment passes, $name fidgeting on the doorstep. Then the door opens slightly, and Carolyn peers through. Her eyebrows rise. "Barbara? I didn't expect to see you back here." "Well, uh. Here I am." Carolyn opens the door. She leans against the frame, arms crossed. The mottled marks on her skin almost glow in the backlight from her room. "The way you scampered outta here made me think there's no place in your heart for little old Carolyn." She's still wearing those sheer nightclothes. $Name locks her eyes on the other woman's face, trying her hardest not to look down. "That's not it." She shuffles her feet. "I just wanted to see if... if you still were looking for a passenger.(if: (history:) contains "join C?")[ You said you'd take me with you.]" "Maybe." Carolyn tips her head to one side. "Why did you apologize? For touching me, I mean." [["It was wrong."|immoral touch]] [["I don't know."|touch confusion]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : awkward convo)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +1))$Name looks away, down at her feet. "I don't know. I—I panicked, I suppose." "Panicked?" "I..." She swallows. "I've never touched anyone like that." "Well," Carolyn says, "I didn't mind. I quite liked it." Unsure how to respond, $name keeps her eyes lowered. "Oh, Barb." Carolyn reaches out and pats her on the shoulder. "You don't need to be anxious. Just—think about it. And of course you can still come with me, if you'd like." She beckons $name into the room. $Name drops her backpack and sits gingerly on the edge of the bed. She lets out a slow breath and leans back. "I thought maybe... you wouldn't want to see me." Carolyn sits beside her. "And I thought you might not come," she says, her voice softer. She bounces a knee. "It's always easier to stay where you are. That was the hardest part, for me. Even though I wanted out so bad." "If you hadn't come to town," $name says, "I'm not sure I would've. And I wouldn't have known what to do with... these." She gestures to herself, to her spines and stomach. "Will I... keep changing?" "Maybe," Carolyn says. After a moment, she adds, //"I// hope so, anyway. We're on the brink of something big, Barb. And besides—" She lifts her hand and runs a finger across $name's forehead, quick as a whisper. "I think you'd look good with antennae." "Oh." A strange heat pools in $name's cheeks. "Thanks?" "We'll set off early," Carolyn says, clapping her hands like a drill sergeant. "Break of dawn. So we'd best get some sleep." She grins. "The [[world|go with C ending]] awaits." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : touch confusion)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -1)"What I did—how it felt—that was //wrong,// Carolyn, it was immoral." She releases a shuddery breath. "Women shouldn't touch each other like that." "I see," Carolyn says, her voice carefully flat. "Well, I wish you the best, Barb, I really do. But I'm not sure that I need a passenger right now." "Oh," $name says, a little faintly. Carolyn's gaze softens slightly. "Look. Here's my advice. There's a midnight train at the station up the highway a bit. I'll drive you there. Take it north three stops and you'll be at the central station. From there..." She sweeps a hand across the parking lot. "East is the ocean. North is Canada. West is mountain country. It's up to you. The rails ain't no automobile, but they can still take you far."(if: $graduate is true)[ West, she thinks. West to the ports, where maybe she can find a cruise to Europe.] "I'd like that," $name says. Carolyn disappears behind the door for a moment, then steps outside, twirling a heavy ring of keys around one finger. Keychains and braided, beaded bits of string tinkle. "Let's go, then." The car's engine rattles as they speed through the night. Streetlights blur on the edges of the highway as Carolyn speeds past. Silence hangs heavy between them. [["Will I keep changing?"|final change question]] [["Why did you let me touch you?"|ask about touch]] [[Stay quiet.|train station]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : immoral touch)]

The station lights glow a warm orange as they pull up alongside it. Carolyn switches the car off, ignoring the no-parking signs along the curb. For a moment, neither of them move. "Well," Carolyn says, "good luck. Take care of yourself." With a grunt, $name hefts her backpack over one shoulder. "Yeah. You too." She pushes open the door, but a warm hand on her shoulder gives her pause. She turns back. Carolyn bites her lip, as though hanging on the edge of speech. Then she shakes her head. "If you stay at a Motocar," she says, "don't try their fish dinner. It's rank." $Name chuckles. "Noted." Carolyn lingers a moment longer, then releases her. "Bon voyage, Barbara," she says. "Maybe I'll run into you again sometime." $Name steps out onto the rain-damp curb. The car rumbles to life behind her and rolls away from the curb. She watches the red glare of Carolyn's taillights fade into the night beyond the station. "Bon voyage, Carolyn," she says into the [[empty night.|lone wolf ending]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : train station)]

$Name breaks the silence. "Will I... keep changing?" She gestures to herself, to her spines and stomach. "Maybe," Carolyn says. She glances at $name. After a moment, she adds, //"I// hope so, anyway. We're on the brink of something big, Barb. We're just the first." "The first," $name says. She sighs. "I hope it's a good thing." "Keep an eye out for others, will you?" Carolyn says. "Maybe there's someone out there who knows more than I do." "Yeah. Yeah, I will." (if: (history:) contains "F changing")[Franny rises to her mind, but she shakes the thought away.] Carolyn is silent as they speed down the off-ramp and toward the [[station.|train station]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : final change question)]

"You let me touch you," $name says at last, breaking the silence. "Why?" Carolyn gives a flat laugh. "I suppose I'm immoral." "I didn't mean that //you// were immoral, just that the way I—" "Stop, Barb." Carolyn sighs. "I've been through this dance before. Just... leave it." "Before?" "Other women." $Name casts her eyes out the window. A heavy presence settles in her throat. "Oh." Carolyn is silent as they speed down the off-ramp and toward the [[station.|train station]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask about touch)]

A while later the two lie quietly together in the rumpled bed, limbs entwined. Faint music from the radio plays a soft duet with the still-falling rain outside. Carolyn dozes, breathing deep. (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[Her tympana pulses gently against $name's with each motion of her chest. Both their clothes lie in a heap somewhere on the floor.] In the warm light, the strange branching veins on Carolyn's skin look almost silvery. (if: (history:) contains "ask for touch")[Naked together, $name can see the full extent of their spread, webbing up and down her limbs shoulders to wrists, hips to ankles.] $Name spreads her own fingers in the light and tries to imagine the pattern unfurling across them. "Carolyn?" she says at last. "Mm?" "Can I stay here tonight?" Carolyn gives a sleepy chuckle. "I take it you're all done with that stupid engagement, then?" A giggle bubbles from her throat and rises to a full laugh. "Yes," she says, rubbing tears from her eyes. "I am. I don't think he could forgive me for—//this."// Carolyn rolls sideways to face $name. She props her chin on one hand and peers at her with half-lidded eyes. "If you stay, we leave tomorrow, early as dawn. If you want to say bye-bye to your ma first, I'll drive you home for tonight." [[Stay with Carolyn.|stay the night]] [[Say goodbye to mother.|should say bye]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ask to stay)]

"I want to stay with you," $name says. She reaches out and runs a hand through Carolyn's hair. "I'm ready for a fresh start." "I hoped you'd say that," Carolyn says, leaning into $name's hand. "I'm ready to get outta here." "Me too," $name breathes. She twists the engagement ring off her finger and holds it up to the light. Expensive. Useless. In a pawnshop somewhere, this will fetch her a pretty penny. "Me too." [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : stay the night)]

$Name rubs her eyes. "I suppose I shouldn't stay," she says. "Ma will be wondering where I am, and she'll probably call the cops if I just //vanish// like this." Carolyn sits up. "Oh yes, your mother. She wouldn't be keen on you meeting me here, I'm sure." "She doesn't think highly of you." "Few people here do. I'm used to it." A mirror hangs on the back of the motel door. $Name carefully repins her hair and runs her fingers through to tease out the tangles. She gives herself a once-over and sighs. "I'm sure you are." Carolyn stands and stretches both arms high above her head. She takes a heavy ring of keys from the bedside table and twirls it around her finger. Keychains and braided, beaded bits of string tinkle. "Your last night here," she says. "Let's go." [[END OF CHAPTER|insights ch 3]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : gotta talk to G)]

Carolyn rolls over. She arches her back in a big stretch, then relaxes with a sigh. She cracks an eyelid. "Ah," she says, voice slurred slightly with sleep, "you're still here. Good mornin'." "'Morning." $Name props her head on one hand and curls her body closer to Carolyn's. "Where else would I be?" "Dunno, snuck back home or summat..." Carolyn chuckles. "Small town girls. Ya never know." "Hey now, you were a small town girl, too." Carolyn rolls her eyes. "And look at me now, back at the source. Tragic." "Not for long." "No. Certainly not." Carolyn pushes herself up into a sitting position and rolls her head back and forth, joints popping in her neck. She slips a hand around the back of $name's head and presses her lips to $name's. $Name closes her eyes, savoring the softness of her touch, the warmth of her mouth. Later, she would look in the mirror and see the etchings of patterns across her arms, a polished obsidian sharpness where her white teeth once were. Carolyn pulls back and grins. "Today we blast outta here. I hope you're ready, Barb. 'Cause [[the world awaits."|girlfriend ending]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : morning rise)]

(css: "font-size: 120%")[INSIGHTS] (if: $docileProactive is > 0)[You are more proactive than docile.](else-if: $docileProactive is < 0)[You are more docile than proactive.](else:)[You are equal parts docile and proactive.] Total number of docile/proactive choices: $DPtotal Number of docile options chosen: $numDocile Number of proactive options chosen: $numProactive [[Acknowledgements]]

She traces a finger around her neighborhood. The women of the Bible study would be scandalized. Franny might be sympathetic—but she still lives with her parents. No dice. A few miles down the highway is a church that serves the homeless, who might shelter her for the night. The trains run north, with a major station three stops away—and tickets available for money she doesn't have. Her finger drifts across the map, to the great wide highway leading north, and she traces it back up to the map's edge and off it. Her own legs work at no cost. And perhaps she can find work somewhere away from the rumor mill that no doubt will start to churn soon, the way it had with Carolyn, somewhere in the next town north of here. Waitressing, bussing tables, stocking(if: $graduate is true)[, typing if she can find it]. Just long enough to pay for a train ticket that will take her far away. [[Walk north.|walk away ending]] [[Head to the church.|to the shelter]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : check map)]

$Name looks up at the highway beyond the Motocar lot. A car zips past now and then, a brief flash of headlights that quickly recede. In the darkness that follows, a few fireflies flicker and dance. She folds the map and stands. Her legs feel light—springy, almost. She feels like she could walk for //miles.// She unclips the flashlight from her backpack and switches it on. The motel office door opens behind her. The clerk pokes his head out. "Where are you going?" he asks, wide-eyed. "At this time of night?" "Away," $name says. She loses track of time as she walks. The shadowy figures of trees bend and blend around the highway, blurring like solemn ghosts in the shadows beyond the streetlights. In the silence between passing cars, crickets chirp. The further she walks, the deeper the blackness in the stretches between streetlights, and the brighter the stars shine overhead. After a while, she switches off her flashlight and lets the darkness enfold her. At some point, she pauses. The fingernail sliver of moon hangs high in the cloudless sky. Her feet ache in her shoes, but she doesn't care. The crickets form a symphony in her stomach, a harmony to the soft breeze in the branches and even to the roar of the occasional car. The music shivers and skips deep inside her. What time it is, she has no idea. It doesn't matter. Standing there, it's easy to imagine the road twists away forever into that sky, each star a faint streetlight along the edge of a far-off road in a distant land where someday she'll walk. She'll wash her throbbing toes in starlight. She'll climb the shoulder of the moon. $Name allows herself a small smile as she presses forward into the night. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : walk away ending)]

"A newcomer," says someone to $name's left, rousing her. It's a young woman, her reddish hair matted and tangled on one side, dark bags beneath her eyes. She sits cross-legged on the cot beside $name's, a blanket patterned with rabbits wrapped around her shoulders. "Welcome to the kingdom." $Name just stares at her, exhausted. "Couldn't sleep," the woman says. She shifts, and $name glimpses a swollen stomach beneath the blanket. Noticing her glance, the woman slaps her belly. "Aye, knocked up. She'll be a right ugly bastard, that's for sure. Just like her daddy." She extends a hand. "I'm Myrtle." "Barbara." They shake. "What brings you here?" Myrtle asks, eyeing her. "Ended an engagement.(if: (history:) contains "try to stay" or (history:) contains "leave house")[ My ma—she kicked me out, when I told her.]" $Name sighs and kicks off her shoes. She massages her sore feet. "I'm... looking for a new life now, I suppose." "Aren't we all." Myrtle gives a flat laugh. "And yet somehow we all wind up here in the end." "I'm not staying. I'm going to see the world." "Right." The other woman swings her legs around and lies down on her cot with a grunt. "Get some shut-eye, greenie." $Name stares at Myrtle's back for a while, then forces herself to lie down. She pulls the blanket to her ears and squeezes her eyes shut. In her mind's eye, she pictures the craggy peaks of snow-capped mountains, rivers raging along steep orange canyons, the twist and glow of the northern lights that she's long read about and gazed upon in photographs. Her imagination sees them so sharp, so clear. So close. For now, that will have to be enough. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : shelter ending)]

$Name folds the map again and stands with a heavy sigh. //Homeless//—a word she'd never thought would apply to her. Her feet drop and drag as she starts toward the church. A warm bowl of soup, a pillow. And from there... somewhere. She pushes the question from her mind. Her mind sinks to a meditative state somewhere far back inside her skull as she moves like a sleepwalker through the empty streets. By the time the illuminated cross at the steeple of the church comes into view, she can barely feel the way her toes sting and ache inside her shoes. She finds herself speaking to a sleepy nun at the door, then being ushered down to the basement past murals of drowsy sheep and crosses and light beaming from the skies. Long rows of cots span the basement, the women's side divided from the men's by a thick curtain. The eighth cot is hers. Sleeping figures breathe deeply beneath mismatched blankets. The yawning nun tosses her a blanket and pillow and [[takes her leave.|shelter ending]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : to the shelter)]

(if: $quit is false and $dress is false)[Her mother bustles around the kitchen, all business and drill-sergeant orders. Meanwhile her father, who arrived home from his business travel early that morning, looks on from his easy chair with a mug of coffee in hand, beaming in a sleepy kind of way. At 8:30 sharp—the best time for a last meal the day of a wedding, according to official sources—slaps down an egg and a small mug of tea, instructing her daughter to "loosen those nerves, right quick." $Name feels no nerves, but she drinks the scalding tea all the same. She feels very little, barely even the eye-watering jerk of tangles loosening as her mother yanks a comb through her hair and lightens her face in clouds of powder. Instead there's an overwhelming calm inside her. Faint echoes of every sound that don't quite reach her mind.](else-if: $quit is true and $dress is true)[Her mother greets her with a massive hug, then floats and twirls around the kitchen like it's //her// wedding day and not $name's. It makes her smile a little to see her mother dance and sing to the morning tunes on the radio. Her father, who arrived home from his business travel early that morning, looks on from his easy chair with a mug of coffee in hand, beaming in a sleepy kind of way. Lightfooted, her mother cooks up an egg and boils a cup of soothing tea "for the nerves, dear." $Name feels no nerves, but she drinks the tea all the same. She feels very little, barely even the pull of tangles loosening as her mother brushes her hair and powders her face. Instead there's an overwhelming calm inside her. Faint echoes of every sound that don't quite reach her mind.](else:)[Her father, who arrived home from his business travel early that morning, looks on from his easy chair with a mug of coffee in hand, beaming in a sleepy kind of way. Meanwhile her mother bustles and fusses, cooking up a breakfast meal of a single egg and a mug of tea for the nerves. $Name feels no nerves, but she drinks the tea all the same. She feels very little, barely even the eye-watering pull of tangles loosening as her mother brushes her hair and powders her face. Instead there's an overwhelming calm inside her. Faint echoes of every sound that don't quite reach her mind.] The makeup artist arrives at nine, and the hairstylist five minutes later. $Name sits at the vanity in her parents' room as the two professionals get to work, piling her hair in delicate folds on her head and painting her lips. (if: (history:) contains "think of C")[As the scar on her brow and the birthmark on her shoulder disappear yet again, she thinks of the gum-snapping girl at the photoshoot and wonders where she is now.](else:)[By the time they're finished, gone is the birthmark on $name's shoulder, the acne scar above her brow.] She puts a hand to her cheek and turns her head this way and that. Her face looks pale as a white egg and just as smooth, dewy eyes, tasteful rogue glowing on her cheeks, eyebrows arched and pencil-darkened, and rosy, rounded lips. All curves and soft lines. Hair styled in shining curls and spirals. "Lovely job," she hears herself say, and she means it. Beautiful—a work of art. She could pose in a museum, she thinks. She'd leave the other statues [[in the dust.|dress prep]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : makeup prep)]

(if: $dress is true)[When the two professionals leave, her mother enters. The great heavy wedding dress has been cleaned and primped, sewed by her mother back into something like its former glory. The beadwork is fresh, the train dusted, the lace a bit less yellowed, even if the sag remains. It will look bright as new in the photographs, she's sure, where the black-and-white washes out the yellow and the camera angle hides the drooping fabric at its waist. Her photograph will join those of her cousin and mother and grandmother in the same dress, smiling in silver frames on the mantle—joining the memories, the tradition. She watches in the mirror as her mother laces up the ribbed corset built into its body snug around her, warm as a blanket, wrapped like a second skin. She hikes up her skirts and tries an awkward twirl in the mirror at her mother's request. The train loops around her legs and makes her stumble, its heavy fabric straining. But the pearls glitter and the beadwork shines. There's something black. Something against the dress. She blinks and sees them again. Oh yes—the spines. They seem smaller, somehow. The black looks strange against the paleness of the fabric. It's not bad, she thinks. Not bad at all.](else:)[When the two professionals leave, her mother enters, holding her chosen dress out with a frown. She looks on, mouth pinched, as $name pulls it on, then laces the back with quick fingers. $Name gives it a swing and a twirl in the mirror. The dance of fabric and the blur of pearly white around her legs send her heartbeat soaring. So light and so airy, a dancing dress, nothing like the stiff, heavy ballroom gown of her mother's choosing. She could dance all night in this dress, dance like she was a girl again, back in the college ballroom and without a single care. Until tonight, when the dress comes off for real. There's something black. Something against the dress. She blinks and sees them again. Oh yes—the spines. They seem smaller, somehow. The black looks strange against the paleness of the fabric.] Her mother stands beside her. For a moment they both stare at her in the mirror, mother and daughter, side by side. "You," her mother says at last, "make a gorgeous bride." "Your fiancé is a lucky man," her father adds from the doorway. "Yes," the bride breathes, in a voice so soft even she can barely hear it. "Yes, [[he is."|the wedding]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : dress prep)]

The wedding comes too soon. Afterward, she recalls little. Bright lights. Organ music. White balloons. Rice-tossing. A small, clapping crowd. (if: $dress is true)[Dragging her train along the aisle floorboards and praying it won't get caught.](else:)[The clack of her heels against the aisle floorboards and the damp steps of the bouquet in one clammy hand and her father's arm in the other.] And of course the groom's lips on hers, their wet pressure lingering long after the applause ceased. There was cake, too. She's almost sure of it. And then it was (if: $docileProactive is >30)[[[over.|buzzing]]](else:)[[[over.|married ending]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : the wedding)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)Late that night, while the groom sleeps, the bride dresses herself in the mirror. He does not see the fabric rustles that fill the humming space behind her ribs. He does not see the soft points of spines slice the delicate gossamer of her sleeves. He sleeps in silence until her weight fills the bed beside him. And then all he sees is the dark gleam of new fangs nested in her smile. [[END.|final insights]]

(if: (history:) contains "buzzing")[(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -5)She blows her breath out in a soft huff. The droning fades to a soft hum. There's nothing ravenous about her. Nothing ravenous about tonight. Just herself and the groom and the start of her new life.](else:)[Evening falls. He undresses her on the threshold of their new home. Now he's in the bathroom, moments away. Hugging herself, chilly, the bride stares out the window of their bedroom. Above the triangular silhouettes of houses, beyond the dark hills, the moon is rising, far away.] In the morning, she'll wake up to strange black fragments littering her side of the bed, small shards of something almost bonelike—but smoother. She'll hold them in her palm up to the light and wonder where they came from. And the shallow line running sternum to navel in her stomach. Barely there, but strange. She'll shake her head, bemused. //Marriage changes you,// she'll think. But right now, standing naked in the dull moonlight, the bride—no, the //wife//—closes her eyes. Her future starts here. [[END.|final insights]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : married ending)]

Evening falls. He undresses her on the threshold of their new home. Now he's in the bathroom, moments away. Hugging herself, chilly, the bride stares out the window of their bedroom. Above the triangular silhouettes of houses, beyond the dark hills, the moon is rising, far away. Something gnaws inside her. Something urgent and hungry. It brings her mind forward from its nesting place behind her skull, a shark drawn to blood. The sensation rises from her insides to shiver along her arms in vibrations that dance up the spines quivering along her arms. It buzzes through her gut and nips at the edges of her ribs, a hornet deep inside her sternum—trapped. There's an ache in her head. Deep in her gums. //Not hungry,// she thinks, half-dizzy with the droning noise it makes. //Ravenous.// [[Follow it.|eat him ending]] [[Push it away.|married ending]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : buzzing)]

The house is pristine. Everything is in its place and well-dusted. Family portraits on the walls, not a speck of grease nor dirty dish in the kitchen, the red shag carpet in front of the fireplace recently vacuumed, the checkered linen tablecloth freshly ironed. $Name can smell something already simmering on the stove—roast chicken, based on the cookbook propped beside the stove. Her father, she guessed, was still selling brooms at the firm downtown. Her mother is standing in the kitchen, checking the family calendar, when $name emerges. She glances over her shoulder, then steps back and taps her pencil against the page. Three days away, circled thrice in red, is the wedding. $Name lets out a slow breath at the sight. Ma doesn't notice. "Nancy Wester—you remember her, Barb? She's having her monthly Bible study in two days, so you'd best go to that. And I have brunch with the Holbeins that morning, and your father gets back from business early the morning after..." She fixes $name with a sharp stare. "Have you had your dress-tailoring appointment yet, honey?" $Name suppresses an eye roll. "Yes, ma." A few weeks ago her mother had sprung the [[family dress|family dress]] on $name, unannounced. (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : ma dress inquiry)]

She'd burst into $name's room holding the thing like a victory banner. It took $name a moment to recognize it as a dress—the same dress from those old grainy photos of her parents' wedding, and her grandparents', and her cousin's, all side by side on the fireplace mantle. In those pictures, it looked so white it was almost blinding. "It's an heirloom," her mother gushed. "I just know you'll look just //stunning..."// $Name took some of the fabric in her hands. Intricate beading and tiny pearls speckled the bodice and the elaborate needlework that ran in elegant, flowery patterns down its sides. But time had yellowed it; the lace drooped, the long train was dusty from dragging on the floor, and great decorative folds of fabric sagged at the waist. And it weighed as much as a small child. "It's kind of you, Ma, but..." She'd hoped her mother had forgotten about the family gown. How to tell her that she'd already had her eye on a different dress, one of those modern numbers that flipped out at the knee into a pretty full-circle A-line that swings and twirls like a dove's wing? "You'll be the fourth Williams in the family to wear the dress. It's a tradition. And buying a new one, dear, well—it will be so //expensive// and it will make your grandmama //so// sad..." Yellowed though it was, the memories that ran through this fabric are her family's, with a lineage larger than any of those nested in her little box of keepsakes. A history in this gown. A little washing and it could shine white as those photographs again. In the end, she'd [[accepted it.|flashback accepted dress]] [[refused it.|flashback refused dress]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : family dress)]

(set: $docileProactive to it -3)(set: $dress to true)(set: $numDocile to it +1)Three women across three generations before her had walked down the aisle in this dress. When she'd tried the dress on in the mirror, beneath the musk of age and the faint aura of sweat she could make out a sliver of perfume, a touch of sweet that spun like a flower petal through her sinuses. The dress, that smell—as much a family heirloom as any jewel. The weight, the train, the broken lace, the loose pearls: small sacrifices. "Okay, ma," she said. "I'll take it." Her mother squeezed $name in a hug tight enough that $name could feel her ribs through her clothes. "Oh, darling, thank heavens." In the weeks since $name accepted the dress, her mother had fussed and worried over its every detail, through all the washings and fittings and tailorings. Even now, with the wedding only days away, $name can see that critical gleam in her eye again. "Tell them to draw in the waist," her mother says, putting a hand on her hip. She looks $name up and down. "It's a good incentive, dear, to keep the weight off these last three days." $Name can't prevent the eye roll this time. "They're already done with it." Another honk sounds outside. "Look, I have to go." Her mother purses her lips. "Well. you could still ask." She opens the front door for $name, gesturing to [[the car in the driveway|the car]] outside. "See you at 9 tonight, hon." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : flashback accepted dress)]

(set: $docileProactive to it +2)(set: $dress to false)(set: $numProactive to it +1)"Ma, I'm sorry, I can't take it," she said. "Look, it's falling apart, and I've already got one in mind." Her mother's face fell. //"Please//. These things matter. //Traditions// matter. It's just that—well, marriage changes you, love. It really does." But $name still refused, to her mother's continued dismay. "Tell them to draw in the waist," her mother says now, putting a hand on her hip. She looks $name up and down. "It's a good incentive, dear, to keep the weight off these last three days." $Name can't prevent the eye roll this time. "They're already done with it." "But—" Another honk sounds outside. "Look, I have to go." $Name wraps her in a hug and places a kiss on her powdered forehead. "Be back at 9, honey," her mother says, a quaver in her voice, "please." "Of course, Ma." The bride grabs her photo box and her purse and heads out to [[the car.|the car]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : flashback refused dress)]

(set: $romance to it -3)(set: $paper to false)(set: $warm to false)(if: $graduate is false)When she's absolutely sure Carolyn is gone, $name slumps a little. She rubs her eyes. Why did Carolyn need to come back //now,// the week of her wedding, with a flimsy story about "catching up" and "changes"? No. She wanted something. She wanted //trouble.// Best that this paper and Carolyn herself both stay out of her life. She (if: $graduate is false)[[[turns back to work.|grocer surprised]]](else-if: (history:) contains "talk to C")[[[climbs slowly back to her feet.|head home]]](else:)[sets her eyes on home.] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : annoyed at C)]

$Name stares after her for a long time, then shakes herself. If Carolyn truly has turned as wild as the old gossips of the town claim, well... nothing is forcing her to go to the motel. Yet the twisty gnawing in her stomach won't go away as she (if: $graduate is false)[[[turns back to work.|grocer surprised]]](else:)[looks down the bustling street, [[toward home.|head home]]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : confused at C)]

$Name jams her foot between the door and the frame. "Wait, but—what was it about 'changes?' That you wanted to tell me?" Carolyn sighs and opens the door a crack again. "That thing in your stomach. On your arms." $Name opens her mouth, but no response comes. She runs her tongue over dry lips. The other woman leans against the wall, surveying $name with dark, half-lidded eyes. "Maybe," she says, "look around more closely, next time you run into that clique of sad little wives downtown. There are changes all over. Not just you and me." "You?" Her voice is faint. "You, too?" Carolyn is silent for a moment, eyebrows raised as though expecting something. When $name doesn't respond, Carolyn shakes her head. "Of course you don't see it," she mutters, more to herself than anything. "Look, I gotta pack. Have a good night, Barb. I wish you the best, I really do." "Carolyn..." But she closes the door, and $name stands [[alone in the rain.|thoughtful on bus ride]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : C reveals a little)]

The door closes. For a moment, the only sound is the rain and the faint jazz from the motel room. $Name clenches and unclenches her fingers, trying to still her breathing. She considers knocking, apologizing, asking the other woman to continue, say what she was going to say. //No.// Carolyn had taken her for a ride once again. A bus at the stop across the parking lot chuffs to a stop. $Name dodges across the puddle-peppered lot and slips [[out of the downpour.|stewing on bus ride]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : closed out)]

"Carolyn—wait!" $Name knocks, then knocks again. But Carolyn doesn't answer, and she can't see between the blinds. The only sound from the room is that faint music playing. $Name tips her head back and puts a hand to her stomach, trying to still her breathing. Carolyn's not coming back out. A bus at the stop across the parking lot chuffs to a stop. Shoulders heavy, $name turns to plod across the puddle-peppered lot. She slips into the bus and out of the downpour. Rain slides by in shuddering streaks on the bus window. $Name presses her forehead against the cold glass and tries to clear it. A chunk of her afternoon gone, and she still feels as foggy as the condensation that gathers on the window beside her mouth. [[Go find the groom.|find groom]] [[Go to Bible study.|go to Bible study]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : thoughtful on bus ride)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)"About that." She pauses and swallows. "I decided to keep it." He stops. "I just want a bit of my own money." He turns fully toward her. "You kept it," he says. "...Yes. That's what I said." "Barbara." The groom's forehead wrinkles. "We don't need any extra money. My salary is enough for us both. There's no need to worry." "It's not that," she says. "I just... want a little to be mine. To spend on whatever I'd like. And at work I can develop my skills, have something worthwhile to do with my days..." "Skills?" He gives a little, disbelieving laugh. "You won't need to know about //(if: $graduate is true)[typing](else:)[bagging vegetables]// once you're my wife. That's useless, darling. I can give you some money every month, if you really like, to spend on this or that." Frustration rises as a hot lump in her throat. "That's just it," she says. "That's what I don't want. I want it to be //mine,// [[earned by //me."//|convo escalates]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : reveal kept)]

"Do I need to say it again?" The groom's voice remains light, almost cheerful, like they're sharing a droll joke. But she feels his fingers tighten around her wrist. "You do //not// need your own money." $Name squeezes her eyes shut. She swallows down the lump as best she can. "I thought... I thought you said I can do more. That—that I'm the smartest cookie ever baked." She hears him sigh. "Of course you are, Barb. It's going to make you a wonderful wife. But you misjudged this one." "But back then you said—" "I know what I said. And that was one that //I// misjudged." He pulls on her hand, drawing her up close to him. When he speaks again, the lightness is gone. A harsh current roils his voice. "I cannot have you neglecting your //duties// to sit at some counter and follow some other man's orders while leaving our home empty." [[Respond angrily.|angry at groom]] [[Defend decision.|defend decision]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : convo escalates)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +5)"It's //my// free time." $Name yanks her hand away from him and steps back, shaking her head. "I don't need your permission for what I do with it." His face darkens. Mouth twists like a vine. "It's not about permission, Barbara," he says. "It's about what's best for our house. For our family. Working, well—it leads to stress, Barb. And stress leads to infertility, mess, maladjustment—bad things." "You must be reading my mother's magazines," $name mutters. He ignores her. "I think," he says, "that I should've put my foot down sooner. It's confused you, Barb. Put strange ideas in your head." $Name's voice rises. "These ideas are //mine.// Nobody put them here. It was //my// decision to stay. I thought you'd support me." "I've learned better. And I'd hoped you had too." He runs a hand through his hair. A cowlick stands on end. She can see muscles working in his jaw. "You should have stayed home with your mother. //She// would show you how to run a family." [[Accuse him of changing.|accusation - alt]] [[Stay quiet.|let groom fume]] (if: (history:) contains "furious ma")[[[Insult mother.|insult mother]]] (set: $DPtotal to it +1) (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : angry at groom)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)"My mother," $name says, "is a control freak. She's just as bad as you. And if you're hoping that I'll let you, //either// of you, decide what //my// life or //my// marriage or //my// home means, then stop right now." He shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. "It isn't your home," he says. "It's //ours.// And a good home begins with a good wife who respects the head of the household. I'm ready to do my part. You need to accept yours." The sharp static of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "And I thought I had a [[say|groom plea]] in it." (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : insult mother)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)The bride presses her hands to her head. "What happened to you? Where's the man I met in college?" The man who studied with her late at night, who said he loved the way she thought, who brought her hot chocolate during their late nights at the library, who danced with her until dawn? The man she fell in love with? The sharp static of tears presses against the backs of her eyes. "That man," the groom says, "was confused. This one is smarter. This one knows what he wants. And what he wants is a wife who doesn't act like she'd rather not be one." She closes her eyes, tilts her face to the sky against the rain, which falls in a numbing patter against her skin, and tries to [[breathe evenly.|groom plea]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : accusation)]

(set: $numProactive to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it +3)She presses the heels of her hands to her temples. "No—no! That's not what I mean, that's not what I want. I can do both." "Your boss would not have hired you to begin with if he realized you wouldn't quit once you married. This sort of job is meant to teach you responsibility, respect, discipline, that sort of thing. Not balloon some notion of splitting up your home life. A split home is a wrecked home, Barbara." //"Wrecked?// That's absurd." "It's not my word you have to take. You can find it in any marriage book, or from any marriage counselor. It's one that you must accept." She squeezes her eyes shut. He won't listen. Maybe he [[never did.|groom plea]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : defend decision)]

(set: $numDocile to it +1)(set: $docileProactive to it -3)She bites her tongue hard enough to taste the metallic sting of blood. When she doesn't reply, he shakes his head. "This is unacceptable, Barbara. I thought you were prepared to marry and take on all your rightful duties." He pauses, as though expecting her to respond, but she remains silent. Instead, she stares down into the gathering puddles that mirror the clouds in gunmetal gray. The reflection of her face swims and wobbles with each droplet. The groom seems... distant, somehow. "Don't talk to me," the groom says, "until you're ready to be reasonable about all this." The car door's slam rouses her. He skids down the driveway. Wet, hair falling from her pins, (if: (history:) contains "choose dress")[dress sticking to her legs,](else:)[shirt sticking to her chest,] she watches until he's [[out of sight.|alone on the porch]] (if: $nodes is true)[(Node : let groom fume)]

//Matrimony// is my capstone to a project funded by Denison University's Lisska Center for Scholarly Engagement, and I'd like to express some major appreciation for those who helped me all throughout the summer of 2023. First, a very special thanks to the three narrative designers I interviewed: Brad Kane, Georgia Symons, and Jason Bakker. Your fascinating GDC presentations and thoughtful insights into professional game writing were indispensable and inspiring! Second, a huge thanks to Margot Singer, who wandered into this foggy gray area of English, computer science, and maddening story tangles with me. Thank you also to Cordero Estremera, who encouraged me to apply for Summer Scholars to begin with. Thank you to my parents and Svea Phillips for tolerating my absence from home for these ten weeks. Thank you to my beta readers and my lovely cover designer, who wishes to remain anonymous. Finally, none of this would have been possible without the support of the Lisska Center and a generous donation from Robert and Marion Ball. Thanks for making it all happen! =><= (css: "font-size: 150%")[[[Restart|Title]]] <== (set: $romance to 0)(set: $franFriend to 0)