Work Text:
All of Teri Campbell's friends hated George Newman. They were not sly or secretive about this distaste, either -- they openly ripped him apart, often in front of him. They told her that he wasn't good enough for her: that he was forgetful and emotionally unavailable and unserious and immature, and that obviously she deserved someone better. Teri always defended him by simply stating that they didn't know him like she did; that he was a real sweet guy. They scoffed it off. They didn't understand how George Newman -- yeah, that George Newman -- could be anything other than, well, George.
Still, Teri stood by his side. She stood by his side when he totaled his Metropolitan (twice!), and when he realized he forgot his wallet at home after taking her out to a fancy dinner, and even after he stole that hamster from that house party (don't ask). She stood by him despite his weird recipes and offbeat jokes and strangely personal relationship with his roommate-slash-best-friend-slash-landlord.
Teri hadn't grown up in Tulsa (in fact, quite the opposite -- she was a city girl, a California chick through and through), but she'd heard the rumors. They spread like wildfires; how could she have not heard?
One particular woman told her in a supermarket that she had taught him in the fourth grade and that he was "academically bi-polar". She told her that George was one of the brightest students she had, but lacked motivation and focus. If he'd just applied himself, she said, he'd have been the smartest boy there. But he wasn't. He doodled on his papers and stared at the ceiling and bounced in his chair. He seemed to have no filter and made loud and rude jokes, often at the expense of others. She told Teri that he often spent recesses alone -- when he wasn't stuck in the classroom finishing his homework, at least, he was sitting under trees and singing songs to himself. Other kids could sense something wasn't quite usual about him and didn't want to play with him.
At this point in their conversation, George returned to Teri's cart, holding jars of peanut butter and pickles (which wasn't even close to what Teri had asked him to get...). The teacher's hushed tones quickly turned to a more cheerful timbre as she told George that she was just telling Tara, or whatever her name was, that George was such a pleasure to have in class, and that she missed seeing him. George kept a distance, chuckling respectfully and mentioning that he saw a sale on milk that just had to be checked out. He took hold of Teri's cart and steered it to what appeared to be a display of laundry detergent.
A couple of George's former classmates were Teri's coworkers at the dental practice, too. Teri would occasionally bring up George in conversation -- when they were talking about weekend plans or life details or whatever -- and, every time she mentioned his name, they'd stifle a laugh. When Teri asked what all the fuss was about, they'd compose themselves and said that it was nothing. Every once in a while, she’d make a comment and they’d reply with a joke that only they understood. If she asked them what they meant, sometimes they’d sheepishly explain that, one time in elementary school, George Newman got caught climbing over the fence to play with a stray cat, or that one time George Newman let all the feeder mice for the class snakes loose in the school because he thought it was cruel, or that George Newman used to talk to a huge statue of Abraham Lincoln when he needed advice, or that George Newman asked a girl to prom via accordion serenade (in front of the whole school) and she said no. Other times they’d tell Teri that it didn’t really matter and the conversation would fizzle out.
She'd heard them, over the noise of the dental drills, laughing in the break room. She was sure she’d heard the name George, but she brushed it off. Minds play tricks on you like that.
Teri didn’t care, though. She certainly had thoughts about what made George the way he was -- whether something in his head wasn’t made right or it was his tumultuous home life as a child or it was him craving validation -- but she didn’t let it bother her. She saw a side of George that other people didn’t seem to value. Teri loved George Newman. She loved him because he was the most genuine and truthful person she’d ever met. She loved him because he always tried to make her smile. She loved him because he would always go out of his way to be extravagantly special for her (even when he couldn’t afford it). She loved him because he thought she was a goddess -- someone who, in a world full of strangers and critics, saw the light in him.
It was in this context that Teri received yet another piece of bad news from George. After a full day of working at the dental practice, she practically collapsed through her apartment door. She immediately tore off her shoes -- her feet were aching from standing for so long, plus she didn’t like wearing work shoes inside the house. Biohazards and all that. As she walked towards her bedroom, she began to unbutton her work blouse. She entered her bedroom but didn’t bother to turn on the lightbulb -- the golden hour’s evening light was sufficient enough for her to see. Shimmying off her scrub bottoms, she tossed the day’s clothing into an overflowing laundry basket. The amber glow from her windows bathed the room in a cool yellowish haze; the shadows from the tree outside her window made her perfectly made bed look as if covered in waves of grain. She threw herself down on the bed for a minute, taking a deep breath.
Eventually she sat up and made her way to her closet, where rows upon rows of cotton-candy colored clothing hung up. Teri tended to gravitate towards pastels and light colors because she thought they made her hair pop. A few brightly colored dresses stuck out like sore thumbs -- gifts from George, in neon hues. Teri didn’t wear them much but kept them around anyways; she felt bad throwing them out. Her eye fixated on a blue-and-white-striped collared shirt. She rubbed the material between her fingers for a moment before pulling it off the hanger and slipping into it. As she fidgeted with the buttons, she turned her attention to the other side of the room and made her way towards a large chest of drawers. She pulled out a well-worn pair of jeans and sat down on her bed to pull them on. Her eyes drifted towards the clock on the wall. George would be here soon -- or, at least, George was supposed to be here soon. She never quite knew with him.
After brushing down her clothes with her hands, Teri made her way towards the kitchen. She’d been weighing her options on what to cook all day. She didn’t much care for mashed potatoes, but she knew George liked them, and he’d been having such a rough time at work lately, with all the write-ups and whatnot, so she reached into her pantry and grabbed a cardboard box full of instant mashed potatoes. George thought she made them from scratch. Teri never had the heart to correct him.
As Teri prepared the mashed potatoes, she couldn’t help but focus on the sound of the clock ticking. Her eyes constantly darted towards the clock, which seemed to move at a snail’s pace compared to the world around her. She’d stir the pot of mashed potatoes on the stove and check back on the clock only to find that only five or ten seconds had passed.
George was late. Of course, saying something like that would hold the same level of surprise in her mind as saying “water was wet”. George couldn’t keep track of time too well. Next to the clock on the wall was a large calendar, chock full of scribbled dates and information meant for Teri to remind George about. Hordes of variously colored sticky notes covered the adjacent wall, with writing that ranged from ‘Court hearing at 9:00 am Monday’ to ‘George, don’t forget your shoes before you leave!’. She couldn’t make sure he was on top of everything, but if she was the only thing he was late for, she’d have done her job well enough.
Still, the lack of planning was a serious peeve of hers. There were a billion places George could be right now. She finished up the mashed potatoes and left them on the stove, heading to the freezer to throw some meat on a plate and microwave it. She watched the door intently, as if any second now, he would come through the door.
When Teri finished with the food, she left the kitchen and collapsed on her fold-out couch in the living room. Her hand hovered over the TV remote, but recoiled once her brain processed the information. She was sick of television. All day, every day, the only thing her dental practice played was Channel 8. The reporter’s voice was grating and nauseated her. Instead she reached for a book. The one she was currently working on was a self-help book for parents of “special” kids. She didn’t have any kids -- certainly not any special needs kids -- but a girl at her practice had recommended it to her, saying that it would help her understand George better. Teri didn’t quite see how that worked, but she’d only started the book, so maybe something would click eventually.
The time got away from her. She nearly finished the book, even absent-mindedly turning on a lamp halfway through (the setting sun had made it impossible for her to continue reading in the light of the window). She heard the door knob rattle and nearly jumped out of her skin. She stared at the door for a solid twenty seconds before the lock clicked and the door cracked open. A long arm pushed a small plush rabbit through the doorway, but left the door closed enough that Teri couldn’t see George.
“Hiya, Teri!” The plush pantomimed as the arm hurled the toy towards her, eventually landing in a disappointing skrumpgh in the hallway. “Sorry I’m late!”
“George, you know you wouldn’t have even been so late if you hadn’t stopped to pick up a stuffed animal.” Teri set the book down, carefully bookmarking it and hiding it underneath a dental hygiene book (she didn’t want George to see).
“Do you like it? I named it Mopsy!” George stuck his head through the door. He smiled widely, flashing a row of white teeth, but something was off about it. Teri couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but George seemed tired. Disappointed in something? Maybe for once he was really sorry.
“Apology accepted, George. Come on in, dinner’s getting cold.” Teri stood up.
George sheepishly entered through the open door and headed to the kitchen to wash his hands.
“So, what’s your excuse this time?” Teri looked at him.
“Well, Bob and I were having a serious discussion about our… various career options.” George stared down at the countertop, fidgeting with the strings hanging off of a kitchen rag. At that moment, Teri’s heart sank. It all made sense. The disheveled work uniform, the lackluster expressions, the extra-special stuffed animal.
George’s attention immediately drifted from the sentence, reaching for Teri’s pigtails. “Boy, I really like what you’ve done with your hair, it’s really-”
“George, did you get fired again?” George often deflected when he did something wrong -- turning the focus onto something other than his failings. In all their time together, he’d always done that.
“YES! YES, IT’S ALL TRUE, I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME!” George shrieked. He banged his head on the faux-marble countertops. The sound reverberated through the entire apartment like a gunshot in the Vatican. A thick silence hung through the air. Teri was all-too familiar with George’s masochistic streak -- he’d always ask for or self-administer some type of violent self-harm after being confronted with a mistake. Teri’d just gotten to this chapter in her parenting book, but she hadn’t actually read it yet, so she still didn’t know what to do -- she stood and took in the thick, tar-like silence now oozing from George’s demeanor.
“So what’s for dinner?” George shot up, flashing a bright white smile at Teri. His eyes wandered around the kitchen until his focus turned to the coquette blue-and-white china pot on the stove. Opening the lid, he gasped a little. “Mashed potatoes? My favorite!” He picked up the pot, which by now had long gone cold. George didn’t care; he’d eat anything Teri made. He picked up a large serving spoon and dramatically stuck it in the mashed potatoes upright. “Teri, you shouldn’t have!” He walked to the table, sitting down and placing the pot directly on it. No hot pad. Teri hated it when he did that, but she didn’t mention it this time. It wasn’t like a lukewarm pot could hurt the table.
Teri pulled the now-cooked meat out of the microwave. The plate was at least a little warm. She opened her pantry and looked for a bottle of the cheapest white wine she could find -- something to take the edge off of her disappointment and cool off George’s unpredictable demeanor. “George, when are you gonna start taking things a little more seriously? I mean, you’ve been wandering aimlessly from job to job ever since I’ve known you.” After rattling around her pantry, Teri finally found the bottle she was looking for. George had taken on the liberty of putting away her groceries the last time they went shopping together, so it wasn’t anywhere near where she expected to find it. “If you could just get that overactive imagination of yours to work for you instead of against you, maybe you could-”
She looked back at George from the kitchen and sighed. “What are you doing?” George’s head was ducked down, focusing intently at the giant pile of mashed potatoes -- most of the pot’s contents, at this point -- on his plate. He’d shaped the mashed potatoes into a giant volcano.
“This means something. This is important.” George looked up at Teri, a hint of desperation glinting in his eyes.
“They’re potatoes, George, how important could they be?” Teri sat down at the table and scooped the remainder of the potatoes on her plate.
“I mean, well… I don’t really know, okay? I just feel like there’s gotta be some reason for… all this.” George dropped his fork on the table, gesturing wildly at the potato volcano, then at his Big Edna’s shirt, and then at his own head. He threw his elbows on the table with a clatter, holding his head in his hands.
Teri popped the top off the bottle of wine and poured him a glass. “I don’t know, George, I think you’re just fine the way you are.”
“Well, of course you do, you have to! You’re my girlfriend. If you didn’t like the way I was, you might as well just LEAVE ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES!” He shouted and rocked backwards in his chair, hands still clasping at his face. Teri cringed at the thought of the neighbors -- they regularly called in with complaints of George’s shouting. Teri often thought George had found the perfect place at his apartment next to the karate studio; that all the noise made him fit in more than anything else.
“George, you get all wound up like this when you’re hungry. Just eat your potatoes and we’ll talk about it when you’re done.” Teri used her fork to spoon a couple pieces of nondescript meat onto his plate.
“Oh, alright.” George wobbled his head from side to side. He shrugged, picked up his fork, and shoveled a monstrously large glob onto his fork. He seemed to unhinge his jaw like a snake does when eating a mouse and fit the entire forkful into his mouth.
George and Teri sat together, eating in silence. At one point, George leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs, accidentally brushing against Teri’s. Teri didn’t flinch or pull away. When George eventually sat up, he surreptitiously didn’t pull his leg away from hers. The touch felt secretive somehow -- even in the privacy of Teri’s own apartment, the subtle act made them both feel as if they were toeing the line - testing if they could maintain their closeness without the other making any sign of recognition. Both of them felt as if they were getting away with something, even if it was as small as this.
George usually ate almost twice the food as Teri did. However, Teri always ate slowly, savoring her food, while George devoured it, so they ended up starting and finishing meals at about the same time. Teri always thought that this was a sign that they fit together somehow. When their plates were nearly finished, the sun had long past set below the trees. The room was dark, but not dark enough to be inconvenient or irritating. It was the sort of dark that made you feel safe, an inviting embrace rather than a prickle down your spine.
George looked up. “Say, Teri, did you hear about this whole new tooth-whitening thing? I watched a whole news report about it today. What was it called? Oh, I can’t remember. I think it started with an E or something. Effervescence or something like that.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Opalescence?” Teri asked incredulously, taking a sip of her wine.
“Bingo!” George yelled, clapping. “I heard 9 out of 10 dentists recommended it. Did they ask you?”
“No, George, they didn’t ask me if I recommended it.” Teri rolled her eyes and pushed her potatoes around on her plate.
“Oh, boo. Their sample must’ve been off or something then.” George scoffed. He stabbed a piece of nondescript meat with his fork and stared at it for a second before picking it up and eating it.
“I’m not even a real dentist, George. I’m still a dental hygienist. We’ve only talked about this thousands of times.” Teri chuckled.
“That’s just a technicality. I know you’ll rise through the ranks in no time. By this time next year you might as well be the CEO of… well… teeth?” He raised his wine glass high, hand recoiling slightly when he realized he had no idea where he was going with that sentence.
Luckily it had a positive effect on Teri, who giggled. “Imagine that.” She raised her glass and clinked it against George’s. George tilted his head back and downed the rest of his wine in one go, belching loudly when he was done.
“How are you feeling now? Did the food help at all?” Teri leaned forward, elbow propping up her hand, staring into George’s eyes. George’s demeanor visibly dulled.
“I mean, I guess it must’ve. But Teri, I don’t think any amount of mashed potatoes could fix the amount of screw-up that I’ve got.”
“George, come here.” Teri leaned back in her chair. George stood up and moved to sit sideways on Teri’s lap. George was tall but fairly light -- it didn’t hurt Teri to have him sit like this. This seemed to have become Teri and George’s go-to “heart-to-heart conversation” position somehow. It was comfortable for the both of them, at least, and Teri welcomed the warmth of George’s body against hers. She ran cold, often off-putting people with her frigid hands, so warmth, especially with the awful heating in her apartment, was welcomed.
He stared into her blue eyes -- more gray in this lighting, really. Every time he looked at her, he seemed to notice something new. That, or he had been noticing the same thing every time and just had a poor memory. This time, he noticed the way her mascara flaked onto her cheeks after hours of wear. The imperfection was endearing to George. He’d have to remember to brush the small black flecks off of her face later.
“You know, you have a lot of potential. You could be anything.” Teri looked into George’s eyes. She felt George’s muscles tense. Although he tried to hide it, his eyebrows knit themselves together and lowered slightly, sheer despair reflected in his eyes.
“You could be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a VCR repairman. You just have to learn to keep your feet on the ground, you know what I mean?” Teri maintained eye contact with George’s blank stare. George kept silent and motionless, his mouth pulled slightly to one side. Teri didn’t know why he wasn’t reacting; wasn’t she being motivational?
“George, aren’t you gonna say anything?” Teri and George breathed each others’ air for a minute, silent and motionless. George’s eyes wandered down Teri’s face, eventually resting on her lips. He leaned his face in towards hers.
Teri’s breath caught in her chest. She froze as George’s breath became hotter on her face. Her heart rate quickened. Anticipation hung in the air for a beat, thicker than a swimming pool full of oatmeal.
At the last moment, George veered off course. His face suddenly accelerated and slammed into her neck. He blew air as hard as he could on her neck, making an exaggerated raspberry sound before whipping his head back up.
Teri smiled -- whether out of joy or out of frustration, she couldn’t quite tell. “I’m trying to be serious.” George saw this as a challenge. He reached his hands around her waist and began tickling her sides. Teri wasn’t ticklish -- they’d established that before. George did it anyway, wiggling on her lap as he poked and prodded at her.
“Stop it!” Teri squeaked, smiling. George leaned into her, the chair rocking back. The front legs of the chair lifted off the ground and the back legs made an uncomfortable groaning sound. “I hate -” Teri screamed. The chair rocked back a little too far for comfort, and Teri scrambled forwards to try to counterbalance it. It was no use -- the chair clattered on the ground and Teri and George crashed loudly onto the rug beneath them. George’s glasses flew off his face and landed on the opposite side of the room. George made no attempt to get them.
Teri tried to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come. She gasped, chest aching. George continued to tickle her, shifting off the uncomfortable wooden chair and onto the old red Afghan rug beneath it. As she regained her breath, Teri attempted to swat his arms off, flailing wildly, but it was no use. George grabbed both of her arms.
Using leverage to his benefit, George swung up until he was sitting on Teri’s stomach. He pinned both of her arms to the rug and swooped into Teri’s face to blow another raspberry on her cheek. Teri giggled instinctively, squeezing her eyes shut in disgust.
George laughed to himself for a moment, which weakened his grip on her arms. Teri took advantage of it and pulled her arms free, shoving George off of her. This only made him laugh harder. They lied there, wiggling together for a moment, trying to get an edge up over the other. They grabbed at each others’ hands and waists and faces, each fighting off the other and slapping the other’s hands away.
George kept laughing to himself. His chest heaved and Teri could feel his quick heartbeat against hers, arms and legs entwined. He gradually stopped pushing and poking at Teri. His laughs took on a deeper, wetter tone, coming from a place farther down in his chest. His face, though obscured by the dimly lit light, distorted into a grimace. His eyes squeezed shut and he began to sob. He grabbed at Teri’s shirt and pulled her closer, shoving his face into her chest.
“George.” Teri was taken aback. They’d dealt with a lot of setbacks in their time together -- job loss, the death of George’s dad, the totaled cars -- but George had always stayed goofy and upbeat. Teri couldn’t believe that THIS, being fired from a fast food service job, was the thing that sent him over the edge. “George, are you crying?”
George didn’t answer. His sobs only deepened. His frame shook and he seemed to tense every muscle in his body. Teri didn’t know how to respond. She’d never seen a vulnerable side of George before. He always let bad things go, like water off the back of a duck.
“I don’t think I can do this anymore, Teri.” His voice cracked as he quietly whispered it, words wet and heavy.
Teri thought for a second, trying to figure out the words to convey the way she felt. She looked at him the way a cow looks at a smaller baby cow and ran her fingers through his fluffy hair. George sniffed loudly.
“This world just wasn’t made for you, George. It’s not your fault.” She knew George always put all of his effort into things; he tried so hard to be a good person who could do the things that everyone else could.
“It has to be my fault; it’s nobody else’s. Everyone else can do it. I just need to. Apply myself more.” He continued crying, his voice running dry and hoarse. Teri felt the moisture from his tears -- and probably snot too, but she tried not to think too hard about it -- soak into her shirt.
“Now that’s not true, and you know it.” Teri said. She shook her head from side to side.
“Teriiii.” He whined, the end of her name being pulled into another aching sob. “What’s wrong with me?” His eyes ran dry, his heaves no longer having moisture. He just shook there in her arms for a moment.
“George.” George didn’t look up. “George, look at me.” George tilted his head to meet hers. His eyes were bloodshot, eyelashes soaked and clinging to one another. His face was wet and red. She didn’t know if he’d ever cried like this before.
Teri took a deep breath. Arms wrapped around him, she pulled him in with as much force as she could muster and shoved her lips against his, kissing him with all the emotion of the words she couldn’t say. His lips tasted of salt, soft and warm.
George kissed her back, face shaking through his cries. He squeezed his eyes tight. Teri continued running her hands through his hair, pulling at tangles and scratching his scalp. The two separated for a moment and they both caught their breaths, sharing the warm air between them. They weren’t aware they’d both been holding their breath for so long.
George took Teri off-guard, pressing his face into hers in the middle of a breath. Teri tensed for a moment but then relaxed, gently pulling at his lips with hers.
Slowly but surely, the pain gently dissipated from George’s complexion. He relaxed, his heart rate slowed, his grip on Teri’s powder-blue shirt weakened until he stopped kissing Teri back. His eyes remained closed and they laid there entwined, neither daring to move or speak.
George’s breathing fell into a slow, long rhythm and he twitched for a moment, arms and repetitively shifting. He went limp, fast asleep between Teri’s arms. Teri had no idea how George could fall asleep so fast. She felt like it took her hours to find rest but it always seemed to take George mere seconds.
Still, Teri let herself have a moment of peace -- not quite asleep but definitely close. Her thoughts drifted to what she could even do for George, if anything. She thought about how special he was and how much she loved that about him.
They laid there for what simultaneously felt like hours and a single instant. The rhythmic breathing and heartbeats were almost hypnotizing, and both of their thoughts fell into a field of white noise.
George’s head bobbed a little. His eyes stayed closed. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I need you, Teri. Don’t leave me.” George’s eyes opened and he looked up at her, eyelids sleepy and half-open.
“I won’t, George.” Teri ran his fingers along the base of his neck.
“Nnghaghn. What time is it?” George pulled his arms free of Teri and rubbed his face with his hands.
“The clock says, what, maybe 9:30?” Teri couldn’t quite make it out but that’s what it looked like, at least.
“Uncle Harvey’s throwing a party and I’m super late to it already.” Usually George would be in a panic about being late, but Teri didn’t think he had the energy to worry anymore.
“Well then, you’ll just be fashionably late.” Teri smiled at him. “Let’s get you ready to go.”
Groggily, George stood up. He wandered like a zombie into the kitchen, turning on the sink and splashing a huge handful of water in his face.
Teri stayed there on the ground for a moment. Her shirt was still a little moist from George’s tears. Luckily, George didn’t look too rough, his eyes were still bloodshot but his nose and cheeks had returned to a proper color. He just looked tired at this point.
“Where are my glasses?” George said, squinting around the room. He grabbed at nothing and wandered aimlessly, running into a wall or two along the way.
Teri spotted them and picked them up, gently placing them on his face.
“Oh, boy! Thanks, Teri! You know, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” George smiled brightly at Teri, just as he’d done before. “Whoa.” George’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
“What is it?” Teri’s arms reached up to her face. Was there something on it?
“You’re just so pretty, that’s what.” George giggled at her with a dopey expression on his face.
“Aw, George, stop it.” She blushed. “Now go, go. Maybe your uncle will let you borrow a little bit of cash again.” She spun him around and pushed her arms on his back, aiming towards the door.
“Geez, geez, I’m going.” He held his arms up in surrender. Just as he was about to exit, he spun around and gave Teri one more big kiss.
“I loooooove you!” He said in a silly tone. “See ya!” He ducked out the door.
Once the door closed, Teri sighed in relief. A small smile creeped across her face as she stared at the door for a moment. Eventually she turned around and went to clean up the dishes from the night’s dinner.
The door rattled again. Teri froze, staring at the door. George poked his head out from the crack. “Forgot my keys!” He grinned at her sheepishly and picked up a keyring that had fallen on the floor. “Bye, Teriiiiiiiiiiii!” The door closed again.
Teri giggled to herself and continued gathering dishes. George may be the weirdest guy she’d ever met, but he sure as heck knew how to make her smile.