Work Text:
When Mary’s phone went off, she was grateful for the distraction. Most of the time, she loved her job as a school librarian, but today, she’d already had to deal with several irate parents (not a single one had a valid reason for said anger), at least a dozen children lying to her face about whether they had brought their books back or not, and a handful of books returned drenched in juice from an entirely unrepentant eight-year-old.
Most of the time, she would have been able to shake these moments off, remind herself how fortunate she was, and move on. It was literally part of her job to help children learn to love reading, after all. The staff treated her well, and most of the kids were nothing but sweet. Listening as a ten-year old excitedly explained why they loved the book she recommended was one of the most fulfilling experiences she’d ever had, and she got to have moments like this on a regular basis.
She knew very well why she was on edge. She and Tom had been dating for over a month now, and Mary had run out of excuses not to introduce him to her mother. Mrs. Bennet had finally reach her limit, and was refusing to take no for an answer. Mary was trying not to think about what Mrs. Bennet would say about her daughter dating a primary school teacher rather than a lawyer or business mogul like her sisters. (Most of her sisters, anyway. Lydia seemed to get a free pass on the merits of being Lydia.) Her mother’s arguments were completely ridiculous, but Mary was still dreading the conversation. She didn’t want to sit through an evening of passive-aggressive berating, and she didn’t want Tom to have to sit through it either.
So when her phone started playing the Lilly Allen version of “Somewhere Only We Know,” indicating her boyfriend was texting her, she was somewhat relieved. (She had considered making his ringtone “Wait For Me” from Hadestown, but thought it would annoy her if she were trying not to cry every time she answered his call.)
She opened the message, and pressed her lips together, fighting the laugh that tried to break through. Tom had sent a photo of a scrap of yellow construction paper, torn at the edges. Probably leftover from a craft his class had participated in. On it, drawn in bright pink marker, was… well… she couldn’t immediately tell what it was. Judging by the shape, it was possibly some kind of bird, but it appeared to have both a beak and a mouth. There were also too many legs. If she didn’t know better, she would have assumed it was drawn by one of his younger students.
He had preceded the picture with a message: “Sorry we can’t have lunch together today. The trials of lunch supervision. :( Here’s a duck to keep you company.”
This had become something of a tradition between the two of them. Even before they began dating, Mary had loved his drawings. It was true he “had no artistic talent at all” (his words), but there was something charmingly funny about them. It helped that Tom had always shown them to her with the clear intension of amusing her. Before they became a couple officially, though, the drawings were usually saved for in person conversations. (Tom had since admitted to her that he was worried about coming on too strong if he started constantly sending her pictures of his horrible artwork.)
Now that they were officially dating, Mary was becoming accustomed to her day being interrupted by borderline-illegible sketches. The house on stilts was one of her favourites. (The stilts were actually a path, but Mary would insist until she died that the two brown lines looked like the outline of a tree trunk.)
Looking at this duck, though, she thought she might have a new favourite. She made a mental note to ask him for the physical copy so she could pin it up in her office.