WHO: Lyra and Jocelyn, then Rosario WHEN: Tues Jan 4th WHERE: Their apartment building, and up on the roof, of course WHAT: BIG ROOF DOWNLOAD SESSION WARNINGS: Probably not
"You," said Jocelyn, with her hands pressed against her face, but not pressed so hard as to stop her words. "Oh, you're a stupid girl, Lyra Campbell."
Jocelyn’s reaction, while (Lyra had to admit) not entirely surprising, still made Lyra’s nostrils flare as she stared back at her grandmother, protesting the judgement with a wounded "Hey.” She’d even predicted the full-naming, a rerelease of some of Jocelyn’s greatest hits: Lyra Aquilina Campbell, what time do you call this?! Lyra Aquilina Campbell do you have to leave such a mess? Lyra Aquilina Campbell what in god's name were you thinking?
But just Lyra Campbell, was different. It felt like Jocelyn was choosing to call her only by the part of her name Jem had given her, and whether that was her grandmother's intention or not, Lyra didn't know, but intent or not, it stung.
Not to mention the stupid.
“'Hey?'” Jocelyn echoed, laying her hands on the kitchen table between them for support as she looked her impulsive, impossible granddaughter up and down. “Do you honestly think you made a smart choice?! Do you?!"
"I made some! Look how much money I brung back!” Lyra waved sharply at the bundle of bills she’d slid across the table, rolled up in a scrunchie. She’d never had enough cash to do that before, to bind them in elastic. It’d made her feel so good, when she’d done it. Proud, to be able to make some kinda financial difference. But also kinda a badass. Suck it, casinos! Not rigged enough! “There’s enough there so's we can breathe for a bit!"
"Don't even start, the money! Gambling was risky and stupid. Whatever the outcome; the choice was risky and stupid. But marriage, Lyra?" The horror in Jocelyn’s voice at that word, was it as strong as the disappointment? Lyra badly wanted to be able to say something to her that’d make her tone either of those things down.
But it wasn't like Lyra couldn't see Jocelyn's point. Ask Lyra a few days ago if she wanted to be married and it woulda been a quick 'lol no!' but Jocelyn hadn't been there. Jocelyn didn’t know what it was like, to stand with Avery like they were up against the world together in Tennessee and she hadn’t felt the way the whole world felt like it was coming together, that night in Vegas. She didn’t know what it was like to suddenly feel, like, whole.
And also, Jocelyn didn't have the faith that everything would turn out alright like Lyra did. Jocelyn didn't know 'bout luck. About how sometimes you had to trust in the total craziness of a situation when you didn't know how it was gonna end cuz sometimes something like deciding to bail on a ride cuz there were bad signs in his back seat led to being picked up by Johnny led to 'saint's blood' led to finding Patrick. So what if she hadn't set out to get married; she was now, and Avery was kinda amazing, and yeah, okay, they didn’t like have any real plan for their future, but she was gonna embrace it like she embraced any other curveball got thrown her way.
So: “Yeah,” said Lyra, lifting her chin up. “Marriage.”
But Jocelyn looked at her like her heart was breaking. “You have to get out of this, my girl.”
"Augh,” Lyra dropped her head back in frustration, the complete lack of faith her grandmother had in her just making the sting of the stupid even worse. “You don't know! You're such a pessimist when it comes to men, like, all the time! You think he gonna hurt me or something? He ain’t that kinda guy. Trust me, I know."
"Oh, all wise Lyra, she knows everything, doesn't she?” Jocelyn said, pinching the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed as she searched for strength. “There are so many different ways of being hurt," she tried to lay it out. "I don't want to see any of them happen to you. You can't stay married to someone you barely know."
"I know him plenty! He gets me, forreal, he does! And I get him, and he ain’t the kinda guy most people get and—"
"And that makes you feel special, does it?"
"No, that's not—"
"Makes you feel like he won't leave you, because no one else gets him?"
"No— no, you're making it weird!"
"A hasty marriage to a struggling journalist isn't God's plan for you, my girl."
"How do you know?! He talk to you, does He?" The frustration building up in Lyra fueled the snap, and it sounded meaner than she meant, and Lyra knew it, and tried to reel herself back in, taking a breath, but it was gonna take more than a breath to calm her down. Also struggling was unfair. Everything Jocelyn thought ‘bout Avery was unfair. Jocelyn didn’t know what it felt like, when he wrapped his arms round her. When he called her amazing, when he looked at her like maybe she was the best thing to ever happen to him. "Can't you just have faith in me?”
Jocelyn narrowed her eyes at her, and tried to say, in the calmest voice she could manage, which wasn’t very calm, but it wasn’t a turbulent accusation either: "Tell me you love him, then?”
"Yeah,” said Lyra, curling her hands into balls and feeling like she was taking on the world again, which shouldn’t be something she had to do ‘gainst her own grandmother. “Yeah I do."
Jocelyn looked at her, hard, for a long minute.
"And now you're a liar as well."
“I am NOT!” Lyra snapped at her, throwing her hands in the air. “I do love him!”
“You’ve known him all of five minutes!” Jocelyn snapped back, but then reeled herself in before she added, in a tone that blended toughness, and tenderness, and pity. “That’s not love, that’s infatuation. It won’t last, babygirl.”
Lyra raked her hand over her nose, though it was her eyes that were stinging. "Nah fuck this," she said, unable to look at her grandmother who thought she was reckless enough to be stupid and stupid enough to be pitied, and just to top it all off, a liar. "You don’t know shit. I'm outta here."
Jocelyn closed her eyes, and against her better judgement she let her frustration override any tenderness. "Well you are a married woman, now," she said bitterly, catching Lyra before she disappeared into her room. "Maybe it's time you were."
Forty minutes on, Lyra was still smarting from her grandmother's attitude, and starting to really dread that things with Rosario were gonna go the same way. She’d stocked up, though, not only in supplies (vodka – raspberry flavoured – and their usual chips and chocolate) but in rationale, in all the reasons why it could work, why she wanted it to work (why she needed Rosario to believe, with her, that it’d work.) And to help, Lyra had opened the vodka already, damping down those nerves, plumping up that courage.
Thinking ‘bout him, too. ‘Bout the way he’d kissed her goodbye at the bus stop. Not talking just… kissing, for a long time, till his bus showed up. His hands in her hair and hers creeping down playfully to grab his ass. Was she reckless? Yeah, no denying. But was it bad?
Didn’t feel bad. And if her thoughts started to edge toward a oh god what have we done she just had to remember what it felt like to be with him and the little edge of panic was all oh! Yeah duh! You’re right! We’re good!
She’d gone for vodka over wine because it was cold as balls out tonight, and because carrying a bottle of vodka while wearing her new coat made her feel like a grand Russian tsarina. Even though it was dyed a teal no tsarina would be caught dead in, and a real tsarina woulda probably insisted the fur was real. (Also… grand Russian tsarina’s grandmothers didn’t judge them for snap decisions…) But whatever— Lyra knew this coat he’d bought her in Vegas was ridiculous and looked utterly out of place against the rooftop backdrop but she loved it anyway. She’d had to wear it on the plane home because it was too massive to fit in her backpack and she didn’t regret it for a second. And she didn’t regret for a second buying the more expensive vodka. It was a big night. They should have something more than the cheapest wine.
There were times when— not that Lyra ever wanted to admit this— she could be a lot like her mother. Splurging on fancier vodka when the basic stuff was fine was a pretty Jem thing to do, and Lyra rationalised it (it was a big night! It was the first time she’d seen Rosario this year! This was basically their New Years and you had to go large on New Years! And most of all, it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford it!) in pretty much the same way Jem rationalised any of her impulsive buys. And Lyra didn’t wanna consider this but getting married in Vegas was absolutely a thing Jem woulda done if the opportunity presented itself. She’d moved in with Dante 'bout a week after meeting him in Mexico, after all (‘I just need more time down here’ she’d told Lyra on the phone that night, explaining why she wasn’t gonna be coming home yet. ‘My head’s such a mess, I have to sort it out.’)
But in other ways, Lyra wasn’t like Jem at all. Jem’s world – for all that Lyra knew she loved her – tended to revolve around Jem, and Lyra, well…
Well, she had Rosario, and weren’t they more like one've those dual star systems?
So yeah, Lyra could get caught up in her own head (and heart!) but tonight she wasn’t forgetting the fact that Rosario had a whole heap of things to fill her in on as well. While Lyra had been gone, Rosario had met Merlin. Merlin the wizard with her aunt Clio the muse, and Lyra knew that woulda rocked her, and knew she had no one but Lyra to talk ‘bout it all with and she’d probably been stewing ‘bout it for days.
Prolly needed that vodka as much as Lyra did. And a hug. Oh god, was Lyra ready for a hug, and that’s exactly what she hauled herself up from the seat and dove into, the moment Rosario pushed open the door. It was a vocal hug, and full of squeezing, as Lyra practically engulfed her up in the coat as well. It felt like it’d been ages since she’d hugged her, days and days! “Auuuugh I missed yooooou,” Lyra crooned against her best friend. “Happy new year, girl, may it kick ass— but not your ass. Want some vodka?”