Work Text:
Helena crosses out another line. She briefly contemplates crumpling up the paper and throwing it away, but decides against it; she probably won't get it right this time either, and if she somehow does, she can always copy it over to a fresh page.
She gives it another try.
…once again, she fails to find the right words.
I don't know exactly what the situation is, and I'm not going to pry, Rebecca had written, but it seems pretty clear that if you want anything to happen, you'll need to tell him how you feel without knowing if he feels the same way.
And I know that's a terrifying thought. And I know that you're going to worry about not being able to find the right words. So practice writing them first. You'll have as many attempts as you need, and if you're worried about stumbling over your words when the time comes to say them, you can just give him the paper.
Good luck, and remember: you don't have to tell him everything all at once.
Her sister really does give the best advice.
Maybe Helena is going about this the wrong way. Maybe she needs to start by identifying exactly what she would say, if she was brave enough to be completely honest. Then she can work out which part of that feels like the safest place to start, and rephrase it until it's something that works.
Something she can say without turning bright red.
Something where a negative response won't crush her heart.
And, most critically of all, something that won't make everything strained and awkward between them if Leo doesn't share her feelings.
There's a reason why the floor around her is littered with dozens of discarded papers.
(She knows him well enough to be absolutely certain that he would never deliberately take advantage of her feelings for him.)
(She's also absolutely certain that he would distance himself from her completely in order to avoid accidentally taking advantage of her feelings for him.)
Helena takes a fresh piece of paper, scribbles down all the words that she wishes she could be bold enough to say, tries to imagine actually saying any of them, and adds a final sentence before sweeping the paper off the low table she's using as a desk and burying her face in her hands.
It's hopeless. Even with hints and softened language, there is no part of what she's written that she could possibly express to him without taking the kind of risk she's too much of a coward to even consider.
Clearly, she's not getting anywhere with this right now. Maybe a walk in the garden will help clear her head.
(When she returns, Leo is kneeling by the table with a half-full wastebasket next to him, holding a piece of paper.)
(It looks like he was cleaning up the mess of discarded drafts and stopped to read one of them.)
(With a sudden frozen horror, Helena realizes that she forgot to crumple the paper or cross out the words of her last attempt.)
(It's been a long time since she was afraid of what her husband might do to her, but she's never been more terrified of what he might say.)