Wow, it took me a while 2 get this chapter up. Sorry guys! I've been so busy with school and all. Anyway, here's the next chapter.
Fallen Angels: Part Two
I saw her friendships grow and fall apart--from the very beginning.
I still remember that day in the limousine. I had a meeting with a representative from Chanel in an hour, but I had just enough time to see my daughter off on her first day of school. She sat next to me, looking like a little porcelain doll. Her brown curls fell to her shoulders, and her fluffy pink and white dress made her look like a girl from Victorian times. Her cheeks were flushed red, and her eyes were glossed over with nervousness. I sat with my hands on my skirt, manicured fingers folded, speaking not a word.
The limo slowed to a stop. I looked outside at the large, pristine elementary school. A bunch of little ones hung around by the playground, and I figured they were the preschoolers. My husband put his arm around my daughter and gave her a smile.
"Don't be nervous, Blair Bear. Just be yourself, and you'll make lots of new friends."
"Really?" Blair asked, her face brightening a little at his confidence.
"Of course," Harold assured. "They'll love you just as much as I do." I opened the door on my side and patted her hand gently. I kept my face firm. She looked dejected suddenly, probably because I didn't seem happy. Really I was; I was just trying to keep myself from tearing up. She was growing up too fast.
"Be good, Blair," I said. "And don't get your dress dirty." She nodded, then squeezed past me and out the limo's open door. I watched her go, clutching a tiny Audrey Hepburn style purse as she walked towards the other kids at the playground. I observed as she looked back and forth, looking determined but secretly intimidated. She would forever be that way. A little girl with long blonde hair walked eagerly up to her, smiling widely.
"Hi! I'm Serena. What's your name?" I heard the girl ask. I smiled at her energy. My daughter held out her little hand.
"I'm Blair Waldorf." I laughed a little, cracking a smile. She would always be formal, too. Suddenly I felt a warm hand on my leg. I turned and saw my husband's smiling face staring back at me. His glistening brown eyes, the ones that Blair inherited, always managed to warm my heart.
"There goes our little girl," Harold stated. I sighed and leaned into his shoulder.
"Yes, there she goes," I replied, rubbing his hand.
A few days later, Blair asked me if Serena could come over to our penthouse for a play date. I completely agreed, seeing that my daughter already was social like myself. When Serena came over, I met her mother. I had no idea that I would be seeing her mother so much more as the years went by.
My daughter and her friend went up to her room, and I went to a study where I could make a few phone calls. About an hour later, I heard some angry footsteps down the stairs, and I heard Blair shouting something in a quivering voice. I walked out to the hall but I didn't make my presence known. I just watched the two girls at the foot of the stairs, getting in each other's faces.
"I told you, you can have the blue shoes, but I get Prince Nate!" Blair exclaimed.
"But…I want Prince Nate…" Serena said meekly. I noticed for the first time that they were dressed up in princess costumes from Blair's dress-up trunk (that her father had lovingly purchased for her). Blair looked like she was about to cry. Serena's confused face turned saddened. "Blair, you can have Nate. Let's just not fight anymore, okay?" Blair sniffled, then smiled.
"Thanks Serena." She looked towards the kitchen. "Do you want to go see if Dorota finished baking those cookies?"
"Sure!" Serena exclaimed. "Race you!" She began to take off towards the kitchen.
"I can't run in a dress! It's not proper!" Blair called out in her little voice as she followed her friend. I shook my head and smiled. I knew Nate Archibald was a boy in their class, but I had no idea that the fighting over boys would have started so soon.
Blair loved Nate right away. Whenever I would buy her a new dress, she would ask me if Nate would think that she would look pretty in it. Then she would hop on her bed in her new dress, giggling and talking about how she would marry Nate one day. Her dreams went from pink castles to white picket fences, but they always involved Nate as her husband. I never usually dropped her off in the morning, but on the rare occasions that I did, I would see her run to the cute little blonde boy, calling him Natie and hopping gracefully to his side.
He began to come over for play dates too. I discovered that he was a quite shy child, very self-reserved. Sometimes Serena came over with Nate, sometimes not. There was one time when Blair invited Nate, Serena, and Charles Bass over. Charles, better known as Chuck, was an adorable boy. I wasn't home the first time they all came over together, but Harold told me that he could tell that Chuck had an affection for our little girl. He had gotten up to get her a diet soda when she didn't feel like getting up, and he constantly had a smitten smile on his face whenever he talked to her.
Blair always loved Nate, though. I saw her sneak in little kisses on each of his cheeks after he lied down after a rough game of tag. When she was a first-grader, Dorota would often tell me about how she was angry at Serena for stealing Nate from her at recess, or at Nate for ditching her game of red rover to play with Serena. If Chuck's name was ever mentioned, it was how she went to play with him after Nate left her.
As surprising as it sounds, those were the good old days. Everyone was young, naive, and close-knit. Blair never had to worry about anything except Nate ditching her playground games, and even that would get worse. And all I did was stand to the side and watch.
I became stricter with my daughter as she got older, especially in the way of food. Dorota no longer baked cookies when her friends came over. It was always a platter of carrots or celery. Dinner started to mainly consist of salads. Yogurt replaced ice cream. I really didn't think about how much it would affect Blair. I just wanted her to look perfect. Not for me…well, yes for me. The fashion designer's daughter couldn't be overweight; my image would be forever tainted. But I also didn't want her to struggle with obesity. In my world, the chunky girls were never popular. Blair lives in the same world I did when I was young, one that's obsessive and cruel. It's the same circus, different clowns.
I also told her to be perfect in her schoolwork. I often threatened her, saying that if there was anything lower than a B on her report card, I wouldn't buy her the shoes she wanted, the dress she saw, etc. Blair was always a big shopper.
Whenever I became this way, she ran to Harold in tears. He would always take her in his loving arms and look at me with eyes that looked like they could shoot daggers. As soon as he calmed her down and sent her away, I would get the usual lecture about how I was breaking her young spirit and putting too much pressure on her.
He just didn't understand. The last thing I wanted was to see my daughter in tears. I was doing it for her own good, not to hurt her. She took it the wrong way, though. Harold was always her favorite parent. I was convinced that in the end, I would turn out to be right. Mother always knows best.
"She'll thank me when she's thin and smart and all the men want her," I would tell Harold. Then I would smile and give him a playful jab. "Especially her little Archibald friend."
I was never actually home to see her grow up. I discovered that Dorota became the mother figure in Blair's life. She would tell Dorota everything about her day: all the arguments, the Nate stories, everything. Even the gossip she had heard from Kati Farkas and Isabella Coates, those two flighty friends, got to Dorota before me. I would sometimes come home, ask Blair how she was doing, and all I would receive in response was the casual "fine, mother." I would later go to Dorota for more details.
There was one story, however, that did get to me. Blair was in fifth grade, and I had been home one day because I wasn't feeling well. I remember Blair coming home, looking as though she had seen a ghost.
"Mom…you'll never guess what happened," she said.
"What is it, dear? And is it as bad as this terrible head cold I have?" I asked. She paused for a minute, as if the words she were about to speak were too horrific to be heard.
"I kissed Chuck."
I sat up, looking at her questioningly.
"Chuck Bass?" I asked. She nodded. "How did that happen? I thought you and Nate were together." Yes, the pre-teen dating had begun, and I was all for it. Nate was a fine boy from a well-respected family, and if he gave Blair credentials I was all for it. Another great mistake in my parenting. I couldn't stop her though, even if I wanted to. She was convinced that she was in love.
"We were," Blair said. She sighed before speaking again with hurt in her voice. "Then I saw him and Serena under the purple-flowered tree outside of the front of the school today. They were holding hands and looking at one another. I could see Serena laughing flirtatiously from where I was standing. I began to walk over to them, and I was nearly halfway there when suddenly Nate leaned over and kissed Serena on both cheeks."
"Blair, it was probably just a friendly peck," I said with an eye roll. She overreacts to a lot of things now, and she did so back then as well.
"No mom, you don't understand!" Blair's voice became strained, and she looked like she was about to burst into tears. "That's our kiss! I've kissed him on both cheeks since we were little! Nate knows that! Serena knows that!" She turned away from me and tried to hold back tears. I thought about how much more my head was hurting after all of this.
"Don't be so upset, Blair. You and Nate have fought before, and you always work it out." The Archibalds had become good friends of mine, and I doubted they would allow anything rash to take place. "Now what happened with Charles?" I asked curiously. Blair didn't turn back around. She was silent for a few moments before speaking.
"Well, I walked up to the both of them and started screaming, saying that I never wanted to speak to either of them again. I walked away and ran to the little flower garden on the side of the school. A bench is there, and no one ever goes there, so I thought it would be a good place to be alone. I went there and I started crying, and suddenly I heard a boy's voice call my name. I looked up, and he was there."
"Did he come sit next to you?" I asked. She nodded, finally turning back around.
"I told him about everything, and he sat and listened. He told me he was really sorry, and he reached over and gave me a hug. We didn't talk for the longest time, we just sat there and I kept crying. I finally stopped and looked up at him, and he looked back. Then we just kinda moved in and…it happened."
"And then?" I asked, slightly amused.
"I jumped up, after getting over the shock. Then I ran away," Blair said. I looked at her quizzically.
"Why would you do that?" I asked. She gazed back at me like I was stupid.
"Mom! I love Nate. I can't be kissing other guys! Especially not Nate's best friend!"
"It doesn't look like he's obeyed that rule," I said. She was silent for a few moments.
"We both made a mistake," Blair said, immediately blaming herself along with Nate. "He'll say he's sorry, and I just won't say anything about Chuck. Then we'll move on, like we always do. Because we love each other, and that's how it's always been when we've messed up." I couldn't help but wonder if she was trying to convince herself of her last sentence instead of me. She started walking away, and I smiled.
"If it helps, I've always liked that Charles. His father's rich, and he's always been there for you," I said. The Archibalds were well-connected with us, no doubt, but the Basses had money. Blair turned around and gasped, looking at me as if I had just told her the world was coming to an end.
"That just may be the most absurd thing you've ever said!" she exclaimed.
"Why?" I asked. She paused, deep in thought, and she averted my incessant gaze.
"Because I don't love Chuck. I could never love anyone but Nate."
She turned and walked away. I fell asleep, thinking away from her drama and more towards the bra designs I was working on.
That was my daughter's first kiss.
I have mentioned before about how strict I became with Blair. I guess you could say that I only became worse. And it was what led to my perfect world to come crashing down.
When Blair was in sixth grade, Serena really blossomed into a pretty girl. Her nice personality added to her character. Blair began to come home complaining about how Serena was beginning to get all the attention from everyone--even more so than before. My answers were never that consoling.
"Mom, they all like Serena because she's thin."
"Well, maybe if you got on the treadmill more you'd get attention, too."
"Mom, Serena's hair is gorgeous. I just have this mess of curls."
"Would it make you feel better if I let you get it dyed?"
"Mom, Serena came in late today, and all anyone could talk about was how pretty she looked. No one heckled her or anything."
"Maybe you'd get the same reaction if you mixed up your style once and awhile."
I'm a very critical individual. I like everything to be perfect; Blair got that trait from me most certainly. Though I rarely told her, I thought my daughter was perfection. However, if Serena was getting all the attention, then she needed to step everything up a little. My consistent compliments to Serena whenever she came over didn't help matters. That was step one to my world falling to pieces in my hands.
The second came in one night. I came home from a meeting (with a close, male model friend of mine, Roman). Blair was still out at a party, and the whole house was quiet. Harold was peacefully asleep upstairs, so I went to the couch and picked up a Mary Higgens Clark book to read. I was halfway through a chapter when Blair burst through the doors, crying her eyes out.
"Oh my goodness Blair, what is it now?" I asked exaggeratedly.
"Nothing!" She tossed her purse to the side and walked into the kitchen. As soon as I heard the freezer open, I immediately got up and ran to her.
"What are you doing?!" I asked. She pulled out the container of her father's favorite ice cream: double chocolate with peanut butter.
"I'm starving, I'm eating something!" Blair said. I grabbed it from her hands and looked down at her sternly.
"Not this, you aren't. Get a fruit bar and tell me what happened," I said. She glared at me, obviously frustrated, and then talked with a shaky voice.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said, warning me to back off. I didn't.
"Blair, don't hide things from your mother. Tell me."
"You won't understand. It's something with Nate," Blair said, trying to walk past me. I stood in her way, not letting her go.
"If it involves the child of some of my closest friends and rich allies, then I need to know everything," I stated formally. Blair dropped her arms to her side and sighed irritably.
"Nate and I are over, okay?! We're through!" She quickly whipped the ice cream out of my hands.
"Blair!" She pushed past me, and I chased her. "Come back here! Why are you and Nate over with?" She got to the stairs and turned around to look at me. Tears were welling up in her eyes.
"He was dancing too close with Serena! He was dancing too close, and he was flirting too much, and he had no good excuse to give me. There, are you happy?!" Blair started stomping up the stairs again, and I followed her. I knew there was more to the story, but I decided to play off of what she offered me.
"You can't let one mistake ruin this long of a relationship!" I exclaimed, thinking only of my connections with Mr. and Mrs. Archibald.
"It's not just this mom, it's everything! He's messed up too many times!" Blair ran to her room and slammed the door. I grasped the handle and tried to open it, but she had locked it.
"Don't be foolish, Blair! And stop screaming, do you want to wake your father?!" I asked. There came no reply, just some loud sobs and the sounds of a filled spoon coming out of a carton. I sighed. "I'm sure he didn't mean to do what he did. You're overreacting again."
"No I'm not! I'm through with him!" Blair exclaimed.
"You're angry, that's why you're saying this," I shot back. "Don't do something we'll regret. You know you love Nate." Looking back, I wish I could've found it in my heart to support her and tell her that she did the right thing. But I can't turn back the hands of time. I didn't console her. I just stood on the other side of the door, listening and finally hearing silence fall. I remember a quote from a famous movie saying that silence is the most powerful cry. In this case I completely agreed.
The next morning, Blair woke up and came downstairs, a satisfied smile on her face.
"I think you're right, mom. I was angry at Nate last night, but I do love him. I'm going to go talk to him and make things right between us," Blair said. I smiled.
"See Blair? I'm always right. When will you learn to listen to me?" She smiled halfheartedly, holding back a comment. Then she turned and left with a hop in her step. I sipped my morning coffee with low fat cream, thinking about how everything was going to be alright.
Months later, I discovered that Blair had bulimia. I caught her throwing up her dinner of lobster bisque. She told me that it began on that one evening, when she had forced herself to throw up the ice cream.
I couldn't believe it. When I first walked in and saw her, my heart hurt. I insisted on getting her some help right away, and got the best counselors in New York--discreetly, of course. Harold went with her to these meetings; I was always far too busy. One night, Harold approached me, and we argued for the first time in years. He wondered if I even cared about helping Blair get well, since I was always away. He didn't know about the dinners I ate alone, far away from them, wishing that I was home to encourage her to eat. He didn't know that for a little while, I could hardly look at myself, fearing deep down that it was all because of my pressuring attitude (combined with the need to get Nate back) that she was sick.
I did care. More than he would ever know. However, I didn't stop the strictness. At the time, all I could think about was my image. I couldn't crack, and I especially couldn't let anyone know the reason why I could crack.
That was the first of numerous times that Blair broke up with Nate and then got back together with him. He was at every party, every large event, every celebration. He bought her things she wanted when they went out. Sometimes when I was home, I would see her kissing him goodbye before he left. He would always smile sweetly, and tell her that he loved her. For some reason, I never thought he was sincere. I pushed that feeling away, telling myself that he wouldn't have stayed with her this long if he didn't feel the way she did.
By the time of eighth grade graduation, Nate had become a very attractive young man. He was more talkative than he was when he was younger, and very polite. Many people told me that my daughter and the Archibald son made the perfect couple. At Blair's graduation party, when I was off talking to the adults, he bought her a dozen roses. She had accepted his generous gift with a smile and a glass of wine in her other hand. I had allowed her to start drinking, because it made her look more sophisticated.
When I had a moment, I thought about the two of them being together forever. The Archibalds were the type to discuss early marriage, and they had repeatedly told me how much they loved Blair. I would try to picture that little house with the picket fence that Blair had fantasized about when she was younger. I tried to picture her and Nate holding hands as they walked to the front door, letting their kids in before they kiss gently and follow them. And somehow, I could never see it.
Blair planned a lot of parties as she got older, usually with Serena. She climbed up the societal ladder, like I always had planned she would. I made sure it stayed that way. I remained the same kind of mother, one who wanted to keep her popular and perfect. I tried to design clothes with her in mind, but I often found myself not getting any inspiration. I sometimes questioned if it was because of lack of knowing who my own daughter truly was. I sometimes thought that it was because I was too busy molding a perfect model instead of opening up to her. Then I would ignore that thought and go onto another design.
I didn't change. That doesn't mean everyone else didn't. When my daughter entered high school, things were much different. Blair wouldn't tell me anything, but I managed to find out that Serena had turned slut, that Charles had become a womanizer, and that other children my daughter had gone to school with had become drug addicts. It was almost disheartening, watching these children who had everything just throw it all away. I was glad that Blair didn't turn out to be the worst of the bunch--in that sort. Yes, she changed too. As she got older she became more impatient and easily irritated with me. We rarely argued; most likely because I was never home to argue. But when I would remind her about her future at Yale or anything that demanded something of her, I often saw displeasure in her eyes.
As much as some things changed, some things stayed the same. They argued frequently, but Blair and Serena remained best friends. They still shopped, went to parties, and ate croissants and watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" every Sunday morning. I loved that Blair still had a best friend she could rely on, even if Serena had become more promiscuous. She was still loyal. There was someone else who remained loyal to my daughter: Charles. Whenever I did see the two of them and Nate hanging out, he didn't look at her the way he did when he was younger. He was, though, always there for her. She would mention him off-handedly sometimes, especially when Nate got on Blair's bad side for a day.
"Nate was acting weird today, so I met with Chuck for lunch."
"That was Chuck. He said Nate's sick from his hangover last night and won't be over for awhile. But Chuck will be here in a few."
"Of course I'm inviting Chuck! God S, just because you hate him doesn't mean everyone else does. The whole world doesn't exactly do what Serena Van Der Woodsen wants all the time."
Yes, I can recall many of those moments. She and Charles were always close. I mentioned her first kiss to her one morning at breakfast, because she was talking about the trampy woman that Charles had taken home the night before. She had rolled her eyes.
"Mom, don't mention that," she told me.
"Why not? I've always said that I've always liked him. You two have a lot in common." She looked at me as if I were comparing an angel to a demon.
"He's a cocky pervert," she said vehemently.
"Yet you hang out with him," I stated. She stirred the yogurt that she held in her hand and looked down into it.
"Chuck doesn't care about anyone. He uses everyone he knows to benefit himself in some way." She continued mixed up the yogurt. "It's too bad."
"Why is that?" I asked. Blair grinned as she lifted the spoon to her lips.
"Because he's a hot cocky pervert. And he's crafty. I like that in a man."
I never asked her why she said that, when Nate was supposed to be the apple of her eye. She never spoke of Chuck affectionately to me ever again.
In sophomore year, when Serena left, Blair was crushed. Or so Harold and Dorota told me. It's still unclear to me just why she left. A lot of things in Blair's life have always been unclear to me. All I know is that Serena left without saying goodbye, and that no one on the Upper East Side heard from her again until she returned at the beginning of junior year.
Harold told me that Blair was very upset for those first few weeks, and I could see why. She did have Nate or Chuck or Kati or Isabel to talk with, yes. However, if there's one thing I know about dating, it's that sometimes you need your space and you don't want to tell your boyfriend all of your pain. I never considered Kati and Isabel truly faithful. While Chuck was always there for Blair, he couldn't take the place of Serena. Every girl needs a best friend who's like a sister to them. Someone they can go get manicures with and someone they can tell anything to. None of the above people I've mentioned could fill that void.
As if that weren't bad enough, something else happened that terrible summer. The final factor that made a mockery out of my life. It was just as Blair was making progress with her problem, too.
Harold approached me one evening after I got home from a meeting, and dropped the bomb saying that he had fallen in love with Roman. I couldn't believe my ears. I still remember me breaking down and crying in front of him, screaming. It was a good thing Blair wasn't home--the last thing I needed was for her to see me lose it.
He tried to calm me down, but I wouldn't let him. I collapsed on the couch, heaving and sobbing heavily. I swore and I raged, something that I don't think I have ever done again. I told him just to leave, and not to worry about me. Harold walked upstairs and got his baggage. When he came back downstairs, he looked at me, not showing enough remorse.
"I'm sorry, Eleanor," he told me. "We'll still always be friends. We have to be, for Blair."
Then he left me pathetically bawling, crying out as if I were about to die.
I still shake when I remember the things I said to him in anger. I still tear up when I think about how he left me for a man. Not just any man either--my good friend. The shame I felt was unbelievable. I get sick to my stomach when I think back to how he smiled at me, when he held my hand gently, when he kissed me, and then I realize that he's doing the same to Roman. I still wonder if he was lying when he said he loved me all those years, or if I had done something that made him do what he did. I loved him with my whole heart, but apparently that wasn't enough. I never would have told him so, but I would have given my life for him had he ever been in trouble. That was how much I loved my husband. It hurt so much to know he wouldn't have done the same for me.
When I told Blair where her father had gone and who he was now, she screamed and ran to her room in tears. She was still upset about Serena being gone, and now to have her father gone too was even worse. She truly loved him. When I saw her run, all I could do was be angry at Harold for leaving her when she loved him so much. I was saddened by Harold's sudden absence, but she was even more. He was her father, for Christ's sake.
When I went up to check on her, she wouldn't let me in. I walked past Dorota as I was going down the hall, and my heart fell when I saw her gaining entrance to my daughter's room.
I thought Blair would be perfect, yet my obsession to make her perfect made her sick. I thought that Harold and I would be together forever, and now I'm single once again. I remembered telling myself how right I would be in the end and that everything would go my way.
Mother knows best.
What a joke.
I never showed the world the sadness that I held deep inside. Inside my mind was screaming, begging me to let my feelings out. I ignored it, knowing that my image in front of my daughter and my associates was more important than my emotional health. I was successful and rich; all I had to do was convince everyone else that I was feeling perfect, too. I became quite good at that. No one ever asked me about Harold after I told them what happened. I committed more of my time to work, so that I couldn't go home and think about Blair throwing up. My designs were becoming some of the best in New York.
When Serena surfaced the day she returned at a social gathering, and I couldn't have been happier. I knew that Blair and she would be the best of friends once again. A few days later, I went on a lovely but lonely trip to Paris. When I came back home in the morning, Serena came through my penthouse door, talking about how she and Blair were going shopping that morning. I felt ecstatic. It was like no time had gone by.
Serena even encouraged that Blair should model my new clothing line. I thought it was a brilliant idea. I was in desperate need of a model. Blair had kept her thinness, and I thought she would look perfect in the clothes I had designed. Blair looked so happy when my advisors agreed that she could model. She and Serena smiled and shouted excitedly, and Blair's face broadened in delight. I smiled. My daughter, my fashion model. I was so proud of her then.
Then came the photo shoot. I wasn't there, but when I first saw the pictures, I was horrified. Blair looked so stiff, so unenthusiastic. That was not the message I wanted to send at all. I fidgeted with my glasses as I glanced at the photos over and over again. I didn't understand it. She was always perfection. Why not now?
"Your girl is rigid like a twig," one of my male associates told me. I stared at the glossy photo in disbelief. "She's afraid to let you in, so your works of art and she fail to achieve…" He couldn't find the last word. His words struck a chord with me as I realized how true it was. She just didn't let me in with fashion, but with her whole life.
"Symbiosis," the words fell from my lips. Pushing away my thoughts about my normal life, I turned my attention back to the photo shoot. "What can be done at this stage?"
"Your daughter is beautiful, but this girl…" My associate pulled out pictures of Serena in front of a silver backdrop, looking joyful. "This girl…has it." They talked about letting Serena be the model, but left the choice up to me.
I think it was the most selfish act that I have ever performed in all my years of living. I knew how angry Blair would be when she found out, but I also knew that eventually she would forgive me. She couldn't be angry her entire life. With that in mind, I agreed to let Serena model my line. I knew how much Blair hated that everyone else thought Serena was better than her. They all chose her best friend to be the center of their gossip universe, and now I was choosing her to be the center of my fashion universe. I continued to not think about Blair or her feelings and just thought about getting through the next day.
When that morning came, the result that I was trying to run from caught up with me. Blair discovered that I lied to Serena about she and Blair being in the shoot together. When Blair approached me, her voice was like it usually was when she was angry with me: edgy and annoyed. Her eyes were big as she looked at me, demanding an explanation why I lied.
"You could've picked a stranger," Blair said bitterly. "You didn't have to choose my best friend. Did you think I wouldn't find out?" I could tell that she wanted to explode at me but was holding back. I tried to explain my actions, but that only made me sound more terrible than I already was.
"I knew that in time you would forgive me. But if I lost this deal because of you, I'd never forgive myself," I said. I knew they were harsh words, but I knew she could handle it. When was I ever gentle with her? Then I saw a hardened glaze come across Blair's eyes, and her face looked solemn and cold.
"I hope you never do," she said sharply. Then she turned and walked away. I looked after her as she went, my mouth suspended open. Her words echoed in my mind repeatedly for the next week as the guilt sank in even more.
I never did forgive myself, and I still haven't.
Blair turned seventeen, and she hosted a party for herself, by herself. I never made it to the event. Thanksgiving approached, a hard time indeed. It was always my favorite holiday because I spent it with my two favorite people, my daughter and my husband. This time would be the first without Harold. Or, I made sure that Harold didn't appear. I called him and said that Blair didn't want to see him. The truth was that I hadn't looked at the divorce papers he had sent me, and that I couldn't bear seeing him. It was much too soon. It's ironic; the year before I had invited Roman to join us for dinner. Little did I know that he would be spending every Thanksgiving with my husband from then on.
When Blair found out I had told Harold that, she went crazy. I hadn't expected her to act so irrationally. He had left her; I was expecting her to be as reluctant to see him as I was. Instead she ran up to her room. I didn't follow her, running away from my problems the way I always have. When Serena showed up moments later, I knew what had happened. I got up from the table and went to the hall for a moment, only to see the two headed for the elevator. Blair stared back at me, disappointed and hate-filled. Then she followed Serena into the elevator. I stood there and sighed, wondering who she had learned that stare from. She was never vulnerable around me, the one person she should feel comfortable to be vulnerable in front of. Whenever she looked at me lately she didn't seem hurt or in need of help, but in need of vengeance. I sadly walked back to the dining room.
When she returned, I was in the kitchen, thinking about everything. Last year at Thanksgiving I had been on top of the world. I had my husband, my money, even my daughter was at the table with me. Now I only had the money to count on, and money's a very lonely dinner date. Blair looked at me sadly and told me where she had been. I looked up at her round, white face, and for a moment I saw that four year old hopping out of my limousine.
"Mom, are you alright?" she asked me. She sounded sincere. I sighed, thinking back to the day of the photo shoot. I remembered the words of my advisor. I was tired of it. I was through with not being honest with her. The whole reason she wasn't open to me is because I never set the example to be otherwise.
"No, I'm not alright," I said. That was when I admitted to her how truly sad I was about Harold. I cried, not being able to hold it in any longer. Blair ran over to me and hugged me, the first time she had done so in what felt like years. I patted her on the back, realizing how tall she had gotten. My daughter had grown up so fast without me, and it was my own fault for missing out.
"Mom, it's okay," she assured calmly. We stood there hugging, two girls who loved and lost the same man. As soon as we stopped hugging, I felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. We sat down and ate leftover cookies and talked, the first time we had the chance to in such a long time. Blair reminded me of old Thanksgivings, and told me about school, and what really happened when Serena first came home. I was shocked, but I didn't get mad at her. They were friends again, and that's all that mattered. However, I don't believe I ever looked at Nate Archibald the same way again.
"Mom, look what I got for my birthday," Blair said. "I never showed you." She reached down under the neck of her shirt and displayed a gorgeous diamond necklace. My eyes widened. It looked so delicate that I was afraid it would break if I touched it. I took the risk.
"Was this the other piece you had on hold at the jewelry shop? The one I didn't get you?" I asked. She nodded enthusiastically. I squared my shoulders and smiled. "You knew what Nate was getting you, so why are you so happy?" I asked.
"Oh, Nate didn't get it for me. Chuck did." I couldn't believe my ears.
"Chuck?" I asked. She smiled, her eyes glistening. "I never thought him one to buy you jewelry."
"Well, he did," she said, her smile showing in her tone of voice. She suddenly laughed giddily and bounced off of the kitchen stool, doing a little jump routine. She continued laughing, her face flushing. I was shocked by the sudden display of emotion. She had never acted that way when Nate bought her things.
"Well, you know what I've always said," I said.
"You've always liked Chuck Bass," Blair answered with a bright grin. I smiled back, feeling connected with her for the first time in a long time.
"I'm tired after all of this excitement. How about we settle in and watch a movie?" I asked her.
"Sure! Just let me go change," Blair said. She danced happily out of the room, humming "Moon River" from her favorite movie as she did so.
We stayed close for awhile, even at Christmas when Harold returned with Roman. It was such a good holiday. Not only did Blair forgive her father, but I finally moved on, after I spent the night of my Victoria's Secret Christmas party with a man from a certain Central Park Ice rink. As odd as it sounds, he was much more skilled than Harold. I can admit that with pride.
Blair talked to me more when she came home, and I talked to her. I gave her more of my fashions and she would show them off for me.
"Nate will love you in that," I would tell her, thinking back to when she was a little girl and would ask that question. She would just smile and not reply, which I found odd. I sometimes saw her wearing the diamond necklace just around the house, even though it was formal. A few weeks passed, and soon she was saying "yeah, Nate will die at the sight of me!" once again. Though I still saw her with the necklace.
One chilly January night, I was sitting on my couch and reading, when Blair came to me. I looked up at her and I could tell that she wasn't herself. Instead of approaching me confidently, she looked unsettled, as if she had just seen a massacre take place.
"Mom?" she asked.
"Yes Blair?" I asked back, concerned. I wondered what was wrong. She looked down and sighed, then looked back up at me with tear-filled eyes.
"Can I go to Paris? Now?" she asked. I felt my eyes open widely as the words caught me off guard. She had been talking about visiting her dad over the summer. I couldn't figure out why she had changed her mind to leave now.
"Blair, what happened?" I asked nervously. She fell at my feet and began crying heavily.
"I just need to go…I have to go…"
I reached down and hugged her, and felt like I could almost cry. I thought that we had become more open with each other the last two months. Obviously Blair had hid something that she didn't feel comfortable enough to tell me. Me, her own mother.
"Alright Blair, if that's what you want. We'll have you there on the next flight." What else was I supposed to say? If France would make her happy, then that's where she would go. Lately I had been much more concerned about her well-being instead of my own.
I helped her pack in silence, and I walked her to the door. I gave my daughter one last big hug, as if she were going away forever. I hoped she didn't feel the tears streaming from my eyes into her hair. I blinked them away and kept my voice steady.
"Blair?"
"Yes?"
"Do be careful."
She promised that she would. Then she went to the elevator and pressed the down button. The doors closed and she was gone.
I walked back over to my couch and cried. It seemed like just when I was putting the pieces back together, my puzzle of a life came apart again. I put a pillow under my head and cried myself to sleep, thinking back to the time Harold left so abruptly.
I often wonder if I'll ever get off that couch.
END OF PART II