quantumreality

I was thinking about the scene in "Only You" (The Americans) where Paige gets a sharp dressing down from Elizabeth. And I got to thinking, what had it looked and felt like from Paige's perspective? Her parents have been the typical All-American family since she was born, but now things seem to be changing in ways she's unsure of, and that includes finding out her mother has hidden depths.

It's almost a metaphor for leaving teenagerhood, I think, which is why I think the title is rather appropriate.

The first time Paige Jennings was ever truly frightened of her mother happened not long after her parents had 'hit the pause button'.

"Excuse me?"

Just a hint of warning. But then…

"Stand up."

Paige Jennings had often read of 'steely voices', 'voices tinged with danger', and all the usual stock catch phrases you read in any number of books with dramatic tension in them.

But for the first time in her life, she felt like the point of a blade had been shoved against her back with those two simple words. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and stood, not wanting to see her mother's face, but raising her eyes even so, worried if she would seem more disrespectful by looking at her, or looking at the floor.

"Do you know what my mother would have done if I talked to her like that?"

Paige's mind suddenly filled in the mental image of a hard-nosed grandmother, wooden spoon in hand, belting a teenaged version of her mom for a mild offense. She shifted uneasily and cast her eyes down, willing herself not to shake as the tension rose.

"You get to dress how you want, use the phone, watch TV."

Holy shit, thought Paige. Grandma must've been a terror!

"You do not get to speak to me like that. Are we clear?"

Paige lifted her eyes, her shoulders slumping a bit as she looked at her mother's face, so hard and brittle, her eyes flashing in cold, pointed anger.

That's it, Paige thought, the dread settling in her stomach as the frisson of fear shot up her spine. Mom is so going to hit me. Oh God why did I talk like that to her, ohgodwhy?

It was times like this, Paige realized, that bravery completely left you. She didn't feel brave or sassy anymore.

Right then, she knew she would do anything, no matter how degrading – confessing to whatever her mother wanted of her – begging not to be hit – whining like a little girl in front of her younger brother – all if it meant she could escape the feeling of sudden doom hanging over her like a large granite cliff.

The door opening was a welcome, unexpected reprieve. Never, Paige realized, had she been so thankful for Dad as she had at that minute. "Dad!" she blurted, hoping to get away from her mom, away from those eye-daggers glaring at her like she'd committed a mortal sin.

"You and I are not done," said her Mom finally in that voice that promised retribution delayed, not averted.

Paige didn't care. She was free – free to get away from the sudden awful weight of oppressive claustrophobia, that feeling like you were being eyeballed and scrutinized, your every movement weighed and found wanting, your punishment ultimately inevitable no matter what you did to try and soften the blow.

What had Grandmother done to Mom to make her like that? wondered Paige.

Thoughts? Comments?