Okay.
I'm so sorry, but I'm having MAJOR writer's block for "Eleanor Rigby." While I was in one of my creative states, this idea sort of popped into my head and wouldn't leave.
So I'm posting this so maybe I can get out of my block.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Michelle and Rose.
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There was one thing Michelle Lennon wanted more than anything else. It wasn't a boyfriend, she already had one of those. It wasn't good grades in school, she could honestly care less. No, what Michelle Lennon wanted was to find her father.
By the time she was twelve, she had figured out that she hadn't gotten her striking cerulean eyes from her mother, whose were a soft hazel. She realized that there was a reason tints of blonde mixed with her brunette tresses, while her mother's were a rich, dark brown straight through. And she assumed her careless attitude had certainly not come from her hardworking mother. But then, it only been a slight curiosity.
Now, she was sixteen and dying to know who he was, where he was, and why the hell she hadn't ever met him. But every time she hinted at the notion, her mother clammed up and would say very little on the subject. She never understood why, Rose Lennon seemed perfectly content with her life and regretted very little.
Then, when her mother had brought over an old friend from the city, something piqued. The woman had golden locks that cascaded down her back; nothing too obscure about that. But the minute Michelle noticed they shared the same blue eyes, she started paying close attention.
Lucy Feeney was her name. She seemed nice enough, beautiful and sweet. But she saw her eyes flicker in interest when her mother introduced the two. And when Michelle had skulked back to her room, she heard hushed, urgent whispering emanating through the walls. She had pressed her ear to the wall, desperate to know what they were talking about, but she couldn't make out anything important.
When Mrs. Feeney left, Michelle came out of her bedroom and leaned against the doorframe to their living room, ready to have her questions answered.
"So…where do you know that woman from, Mom?" she asked casually.
"The city. I lived there, you know, when I was 20 or so."
Michelle snorted a little. "You were a hippie?" Her mother chuckled.
"Not exactly, though I did do my fair share of experimenting, which you will not do, you understand?" Michelle rolled her eyes.
"Yes, mother…but anyway, you room with her or something?"
"Yeah, I had a bunch of roommates. Singers and songwriters, mostly. Though there was Jude-"
"Jude?"
"Jude Feeney, Lucy's husband. He was the artist of our little group. You'd never catch him wearing anything without paint or charcoal stains on it."
"How'd him and Lucy meet?"
Her mother stared at her quizzically. "You're just full of questions today, aren't you? Normally, I can barely get you to say two words to me when I ask you something."
Michelle shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just curious; you never tell me anything exciting about your life, just 'oh! I got a promotion!' or 'Bill's getting married' or other shit I don't care about."
"Watch your language, young lady. And it wasn't all that exciting. It's just how we lived."
"Okay…" She flopped down on the couch across from her mother, folding her legs in underneath her. "You still didn't answer my question, though."
"Well…I-I'm not quite sure, they were already together when I first moved in…" Ms. Lennon said carefully, obviously leaving something out of the conversation. That caused the wheels in her daughter's head to spin. You could almost assume nowadays whenever Mrs. Lennon treaded cautiously around a subject, it had something to do with her father.
"So, how many roommates did you have?"
"Oh, gosh, too many to count. Let's see, there was Lucy and Jude, Prudence, Sadie, JoJo, Desmond, Ellie…eight…yeah, there was eight."
"Who was the eighth?"
Michelle had hit the jackpot as her mother turned a furious shade of scarlet. "I…I don't remember his name…"
"His?"
"Erm, yes."
"Uh-huh…" Michelle realized this was as much information as her mother was going to give her, so she pushed herself out of the couch, saying "Okay, thanks for the life story, Mom."
"Oh…you're welcome," she responded vaguely, her mind on other matters.
Michelle shuffled back into her room and flopped down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. So her dad had roomed with her mother, that certainly explained a lot. He also had some relation to the woman who had come by earlier, maybe his sister? That's all she knew at this point, but she was now more determined to find this mystery man who had apparently swept her mother off her feet.
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I am probably horribly stupid to have two multi-chapter fics going at the same time, but stupid is as stupid does.
Review, if you please.