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"Perceptive," she commended him. "Let's just say it's something those whippersnappers on the Internet cooked up. I figured it was probably lame enough by now for someone my age to ironically appropriate it."
"Looks like I came overdressed for the occasion," William remarked.
"For movie night? Yeah, I'd say so." Poppy laughed disarmingly as he followed her inside. "You came dressed just fine, William. Actually, I've imagined that you sleep in your suits. So thanks for adding fuel to my theory."
"That would be my brother, Sam," William said without missing a beat. "Although I appreciate that you imagine me sleeping."
Poppy's cheeks colored a little, but she didn't look shy or sheepish. If there was anything William had come to understand about her, it was that she enjoyed his flirtation as much as he did—and gave as good as she got. "Here," she said. She plucked a kernel of popcorn off the top of the bowl. "Open up and tell me if it's good."
William set his briefcase aside on her kitchen table, and opened his mouth obediently. She popped the fluffy piece in, and he closed his lips over it, purposefully catching her finger in the process. She withdrew her hand and pretended not to notice. "It's good. Tasty," he said. "Reminds me of how my mother used to make it."
"I take that as a very high compliment," Poppy said. "Shall we?"
His days of opposition research into Poppy Hanniford were over…or at least, postponed until an indefinite future date, but that didn't prevent William from taking in every inch of her apartment now. She led him into the den—accented in a deep, luxurious purple, of course. She made what William had once thought a garish color appear like a beautiful shade newly discovered on the spectrum. Every table, every surface, in every room, seemed to have a potted plant growing on it, and they looked better watered and better looked-after then even the ones back at the office, and William hired a guy to take care of that. Poppy's brownstone was tasteful, well-kept, and homey. William felt a strange sensation forming within him. It wasn't nostalgia, and it wasn't longing…it was something else, some indefinable cousin of the two. In Poppy's apartment, he felt it for the first time.
"Thanks for agreeing to host," he said as he collapsed back into her couch. The cushions sagged beneath him, almost threatening to engulf him entirely. He had never been so goddamn comfortable in his life.
Poppy alighted on the cushion beside him. "Not at all. It's the least I can do, considering it's one of my favorite movies."
"You keep saying that," William mused as she booted up the DVD player. "I wonder if I stand to learn something new about you before this night is through. Something intimate."
"Did I mention the movie is four hours long?" Poppy said perkily.
William groaned. He rose to go get his laptop from the kitchen to take notes. When he returned, Poppy was reclined back next to the indent he had left. Her eyes narrowed at the laptop, but she said nothing. She didn't have to—it was obvious she disapproved.
William took steadfast notes for the first twenty minutes of the movie…but soon enough he found his keystrokes slowing, his eyes favoring one screen more than the other. He had thought watching a four-hour plot unfold would be tedious, but he found himself totally engrossed in Scarlett’s plight. He closed his laptop, set it aside, and relaxed back. He was surprised to find his shoulder resting against Poppy's.
"Welcome to the movie," she said with a teasing grin. "Popcorn? Or are you going to make me eat it all myself?"
Two hours in, and the bowl was empty. William leaned forward, squinting at the drama playing out on the TV screen. "You know, I never realized this movie had such a strong female character," he said. "For its time, and even for now." He didn't mention aloud that he thought he could relate to Scarlett. Poppy disappeared into the kitchen, and returned with two freshly-cracked, frosted beers. She offered one to William, and he accepted without hesitation. She sat back down.
"You're kidding, right?" Poppy took a long swig of her beer. "I mean, yes she's unbelievably strong and cool… but she's an amazing character because she's flawed. They all are. In Scarlett's case," Poppy gestured toward the screen with the butt of her bottle, "her stubbornness is her downfall. She should rely on Rhett more when he offers her his help. She should trust his love for her."
"From where I'm sitting, Scarlett's doing exactly what she needs to keep her family and her plantation afloat," William said. "She's a passionate woman, but she's also making calculated decisions about survival. Decisions that aren't easy for anyone. Depending on somebody else…" William shook his head and chuckled. "That wouldn't make her such a remarkable leading woman. You can't be a leading woman if you don't lead."
Poppy shrugged. "We'll see," she said.
William didn't like the promise in her voice. He liked it even less when, two hours later, the movie ended, and the unspoken promise was fulfilled: Scarlett was left alone.
William stared at the blank television screen long after the movie had concluded. Then he turned to Poppy.
"Well?" Her jade green eyes shone within the darkness. "Did you totally love it? I bet you have some criticisms. Of course you have criticisms."
"It isn't a perfect love story," William said. "That much is obvious. With how hard Scarlett worked…there was no real emotional payoff for either her or the audience in the end. Her family, and Rhett—absolutely none of them showed appreciation for how much she toiled and sacrificed. Scarlett single-handedly improved the course of her life and the lives of those around her, and this is how the narrative thanks her?"
"Wow." Poppy stared at him, before taking a quick swig of her third beer…at least, William thought it was her third. "You really took this movie to heart."
"I wouldn't take it otherwise," he said. "You said it's one of your favorite love stories."
"My single favorite love story, actually."
"I just don't understand it," he muttered. His tongue felt loose, his wit completely agile. He wasn't so far gone as to not suspect the beer, but it was easier to go with the flow of his feelings.
"What don't you understand?"
"Why none of them understood!" William exclaimed. "I mean, it's obvious to the viewer that Scarlett got stuck with a shitty ending, isn't it?"
"Of course she did," Poppy said. "Because she was flawed, William. Her life's tragedy is realizing too late that what she wanted was standing right in front of her the whole time. Scarlett messed up by never inviting anyone else into her world—into her plans."
