Chapter Text
Deborah didn’t hate L.A. people. She just hated the way they acted around other L.A. people. For the sake of Jimmy, Marcus, and her QVC executives she managed to rub elbows with the right people long enough to justify the cost of the rooftop party. The same people who weeks before had either entirely dismissed or undercut her special now provided her with the perfect opportunity to truly get Ava to spread her wings. Though she couldn’t stand how transparent their attempts at flattery were, she knew after months of setbacks, heartbreak, and mourning that Ava would need every ounce of their rhinestone covered words. Whether or not Ava chose to give into her own feelings of imposter syndrome was up to her.
She graciously wrapped up the conversation she had been holding with one network executive about the changing landscape of late night content (a conversation one would think Deborah would hate given her personal history, but as an avid cable TV subscriber she truly had a lot of thoughts on it) and moved further away from the crowds as she deposited her empty champagne glass on the nearest table. Recharging her social battery was only part of the reason she found herself on that more secluded rooftop. Since her short speech had gone off without a hitch and highlighting Ava’s contribution had gathered a swarm of admirers, she knew it was only a matter of time before the writer looked out into the sea of people and noticed her presence missing.
Gathering her thoughts and hyping herself up before a show was easier than this. This was mental preparation for one of the worst kinds of conversation anyone ever had to give.
So there she stood looking out at the hazy lights of Hollywood, allowing herself for a second to remember the days when the city held so much promise.
She's exactly like you. If you let her stay as close as she already is she's going to see how much she hates being like you.
But what if she's so much like you, that you feel like you've found the one person who completes you...who fully, entirely knows you?
Her age
Your age
She annoys the shit out of you
You don't mean that
You can't let her live in your shadow...she has to shine. She just has to.
A familiar rubber footfall of a Doc Martens clog came from behind her. “You know they’re having a party for you down there.”
You love her so much
That’s why I have to let her go
“We fuckin’ did it!” Ava exclaimed.
“We did.” It hurt to smile knowing what she had to do. She looked out towards the city again. “We did.” And as Ava turns to glance out at the expanse before them, Deborah takes one more chance to look at the joy on the younger woman’s face.
The walls go back up.
At first when she pushes back Deborah lists all the things she gave up or put off for her. For them. Her lips resisted a smile when through tears Ava pleaded with her “Please don’t make me do math right now.” she paused “You’re the one with all the stories. What do I even have to say?”
So much, Ava.
“That’s the thing. You gotta go figure it out.” She could feel her throat tighten up. “I told you…you’re just like me.” They had moments of closeness before, physical and otherwise. Some more violent than others (involving crystals). But when she reached out to push back soft ginger hair, feeling the warmth of that cheek in her palm, they were as close as they had ever been. “You got your own mountain to climb.”
“But we’re good together. I don’t want to be here I-...I want to be wherever you are.”
Deborah thought her heart had shattered long ago when her husband left her for her sister. Every new heartbreak and trial of life was just the other pieces of her heart barely hanging by a thread. Sure she had lovers and flings, always knowing that if she got close to being happy again that it wouldn’t be the same as it was before.
But this girl…this oat milk drinking, infographic social justice, snarky, anxiety riddled “zillenial” just glued the pieces back bit by bit and joke by joke…and made her realize what deep heartbreak was all over again.
“I got to get back” If she looked at Ava any longer she was afraid she would start crying herself, or worse, resort to cruelty to get the girl to see that she needed to move on.
“No, wait whoa! Deborah, that’s it? We’re not gonna talk anymore? I won’t see you?”
Maybe it’s good form to close on a joke…even if she won’t laugh
“Oh, you’ll see me…in court.” She couldn’t turn back as she walked away. If she did there would be no control left between her head and her heart.
This was for the best.
Alone again.