[Only on TV. She can feel the hot flush of shame creeping up her cheekbones. Effie shakes her head.]
I had blemishes when I was fifteen. Horrible. On my cheeks and chin. Mother wouldn't let me leave the house for months. She was afraid that...
[I'd be put in one of those instutional WHY the ever-loving HELL is she telling him this? To commiserate? Don't worry Clint I've had weird marks on my body, too. I haven't always been this perfect. Or...no. Maybe to try to explain herself. How her world worked. How perceived physical imperfections -- a crippled leg, a blemished face -- were considered anathema, a source of shame. She clears her throat and starts over:]
SOME children get born....different. They're not allowed out,ever. They send them all... [Another flush.]
I've never seen one in person before.
[After that lame finish, she begins toying with one of her irises. Trying to look anywhere but at each of those stories of violence on his body, even though she's itching to touch.]
[action -- PROBABLY SOMETIME AFTER SIX O'CLOCK.]
I had blemishes when I was fifteen. Horrible. On my cheeks and chin. Mother wouldn't let me leave the house for months. She was afraid that...
[I'd be put in one of those instutional WHY the ever-loving HELL is she telling him this? To commiserate? Don't worry Clint I've had weird marks on my body, too. I haven't always been this perfect. Or...no. Maybe to try to explain herself. How her world worked. How perceived physical imperfections -- a crippled leg, a blemished face -- were considered anathema, a source of shame. She clears her throat and starts over:]
SOME children get born....different. They're not allowed out,ever. They send them all... [Another flush.]
I've never seen one in person before.
[After that lame finish, she begins toying with one of her irises. Trying to look anywhere but at each of those stories of violence on his body, even though she's itching to touch.]