Author's Note: Generally, I try and write an entire story before I consider posting it, even if I don't post it all at once. With this story, I am making an exception to that rule. I have a general idea of what will happen in later chapters, but my outline is pretty barren. I don't see this story being longer than eight or so chapters. It'll be displayed as complete, when it is complete. I have long wanted to write a Daria story, I just didn't think I would be taking it on so soon. I'm worried that Daria and Jane are not true to their characters and I'm somewhat worried about how in character they are, especially Jane. That being said, this is a story where the characters are the worst possible versions of themselves. Well, Helen and Jake are the worst versions of themselves, and it's been done intentionally.
This story is meant to take place of the period of a few days or week. It is not happy, not fuzzy, and it very much intended to be a short slice of life work. The ending will tie up the story, but things may be left a little open. I'm not trying for a beautiful or satisfying conclusion with this one.
Due to self-isolation and the Coronavirus outbreak, I've had some extra time and I wanted to use it write. I decided I was going to take on a story I wasn't sure I am a strong enough writer for and to challenge myself creatively. I hope you enjoy this story and I am always, always open to reviews, critiques, and constructive criticism.
All that being said, I want to provide a few trigger warnings, not all are contained in this one chapter, but are included in the story: spousal neglect, cheating/inferences to cheating, discussions of abortion, alcohol abuse, prescription drug abuse as mistaken for a suicide attempt, strained marriages, verbal fighting/family arguments, discussions of female/female bullying and false accusation/slut shaming.
If more categories for trigger warnings come up throughout the story, I will include them in author's notes in the beginning of the chapter.
One more note, depending on how closely tied to your favorite ships you are, this story is Joey/Quinn and while Daria has no romantic interest as a plot to the story there are Trent/Daria elements and Tom/Daria elements included in the story.
Chapter 1: "It Happened One Nut":
Daria woke up, head pounding and foul taste in her mouth. She needed a toothbrush and a shower. She needed a strong cup of coffee and something to chase away the headache. But first, she needed to find her underwear, lace up her boots, and get out of the messiest, mustiest room in the Lane household.
Trent was turned over on his side, face shoved into a pillow. His snoring could probably be heard through the whole house.
Daria rocked herself forward slowly. The pain in her head and nausea hitting her like a brick wall. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, taking a few deep breaths and hoping she was sober enough to not fall over. She probed around the floor, trying to grab up her clothes. She threw discarded shirts, jeans, and boxers to the side. The world around her was blurry.
She found her jacket and shrugged it on. A discarded condom from the night before was in plain view, lying underneath the garment she'd just zipped up. She wrinkled her nose at the blurry sight. No question, she was doing laundry when she got home. Right after a shower and a long nap.
She cobbled together her pants, underwear, boots, and glasses. She donned them accordingly, and glanced over at Trent, who'd stopped snoring, but was still asleep against morning light hardly shining into the room through the black out curtains.
She opened the door and slunk down the hallway. She didn't have her t-shirt or a bra and she'd decided as she left the room, that they would be gone forever, in the disgusting abyss that was Trent Lane's room. Or Jane would bring them to her at some point after bouts and bouts of teasing and admonishment. If Jane herself could even find Daria's clothing in the garment tornado.
As Daria slinked down the steps, she glanced into Jane's room. The door was wide open. Art supplies, canvases, and mass chaos surrounded the perfectly made bed. Jane's flight hadn't come in yet. Daria knew that. She knew Jane wouldn't be home from Boston until early afternoon. So, why was she hoping to see her friend in her most hopeless and embarassing of situations?
Daria quietly exited the Lane household and started down the block toward her parents' place. Her head was still foggy, but at least with her glasses on the world didn't feel like a blurry, spiraling mess. Her head hurt less with her vision rectified.
It's really the little things, isn't it.
Daria opened the front door with no intention of remaining silent. Quinn was still out from the night before, no doubt partying and enjoying the general liberation that high school graduation brought. Jake was passed out on the couch, sitting upright with yesterday's newspaper draped over his chest like a blanket. A martini glass sitting on the coffee table, toothpick sadly sticking out of it. Daria slammed the front door. Partially out of anger, partially as an experiment. Jake didn't jump or stir from his spot on the couch.
She crossed the living room and made her way into the kitchen to begin the daunting task of starting a pot of coffee. There was a note on the glass carafe. Fast, cursive letters in Helen's handwriting telling her family she wouldn't be home for dinner. Whoever was closest to the kitchen during dinner time could pop a tray of frozen lasagna in the oven. Helen's note asked for them to save her a plate.
Helen Morgendorffer: homemaker, lawyer, continued disappointment, Daria deadpanned to herself.
Daria found some headache medicine, guzzled down a too hot cup of coffee, and made her stumbly, nauseous way to the upstairs bathroom. She turned on the shower hot enough to be uncomfortable and stepped in, forgetting to take her glasses off in the process. She left them on, even when the steam began to fog up the lenses. She wasn't paying that much attention to her surroundings, only the fact the shower was easing the tension in her head. It wasn't easing the feeling of the hangover, the utter numbness of her less than intelligent decision to wake up next to Trent Lane, or how shitty it might actually be to finally be home for the summer after her first year at Raft had come to a close.
There was hostility, pure and with no room for love, in the Morgendorffer household. There was an undercurrent of resentment. She felt it when her dad and Quinn had come to pick her up at the Am-Track station. The bitterness progressed with each phone call through the school year and Daria did her best to ignore it at first, hoping it would peter out.
By the time she was a week away from coming home, it was full force. Jake and Helen were openly fighting with each other, Quinn dutifully reported, week after week. When her parents called they had been on speakerphone, but at the volume they were talking, they certainly didn't need to be. At least, that was during a handful of phone calls at the beginning her first semester, when Helen and Jake still made phone calls together. Back when Helen could be bothered to come home.
Quinn had called her in the middle of the night once during the second semester. She was hysterical and almost inconsolable. She couldn't take Mom and Dad's fighting, she said. They woke her up in the middle of the night with all the yelling downstairs, she said. She wanted to come to Boston for a few days and stay with Daria so she wouldn't have to be near Jake and Helen, she said.
It took Daria almost an hour to talk Quinn down and tell her she was being dramatic. For Daria to tell Quinn, that she could most certainly not come to Boston for a few days because Quinn had school and work, and there was no room in Daria's dorm to even entertain the idea of letting her sister stay.
Quinn had said she was going to go over to Stacy's and stay the rest of the weekend. Daria told her it sounded like a good plan.
Quinn was as dramatic and obnoxious as possible about packing a bag and parading around the living room. She'd threatened going to Stacy's and she'd already made the decision to go through with it.
It has the opposite effect of what Quinn had been hoping for. Instead of her parents realizing their fighting was hurting her and driving her crazy, her parents turned against one another even harder, blaming the other Quinn's upset and fragile state.
Quinn closed the door on her parents and made the trek over to Stacy's. Her parents didn't notice their youngest had already left in the midst of their heated argument. Neither of them tried to call her once she'd gotten to Stacy's. Not to apologize, not to make sure she was okay.
Quinn wasn't surprised by this, but it still hurt.
She called Daria back when she got to Stacy's and sobbed to her sister about how jealous she was of her, how she got to be away from all of the drama. Daria let Quinn talk and didn't contradict her sister, but she couldn't help feeling pissed off. Why did Quinn think that being hundreds of miles away, but knowing her sister was in an emotional crisis and her parents' marriage was falling apart, was an advantage to the situation? What made Quinn think it was any easier on Daria?
When Quinn had gotten home after the impromptu, extended stay at Stacy's, Jake had drunk himself to sleep and was passed out upright on the couch. Helen had already left for work. Quinn knew Jake had been sleeping on the couch, waiting for Helen to get up and go to work so that he could intercept her at the door and apologize. Jake had been enacting this plan for months. It was an every night occurrence and he hadn't once been successful in its execution. He was always passed out asleep when Helen left for work in the early hours of the morning.
Helen didn't so much as glance at her sleeping husband anymore when she opened the front door. He was below her disdain now.
Helen, generally, couldn't be bothered with her family anymore. Daria heard from her father more than her mother, and it was alway a weepy Jake that called. Always a drunken, sad ramble. Something about how proud he was of Daria and her grades and accomplishments. Something about how proud of Quinn he was. But mostly he talked about how sad he was that Helen was slipping away from him and he couldn't change it, no matter how hard he tried.
Daria had learned more about her father than she'd ever felt she had needed to. Quinn had as well. She could hear Jake's lamenting through the house. It made her heart tighten and it made her cry more. Jake was so martini drunk on the occasions when he called his oldest, that he probably never realized he'd talked to her to begin with. He certainly didn't realize his youngest could hear every one-sided confession of agony he was confessing on the phone.
Helen only called Daria of her own volition when it was about Quinn's high school graduation. She's also called Daria one other time, by mistake. She was dialing the number of a client and dialed Daria's newly acquired cell phone number instead. Helen didn't read it as a subconscious act in relation to missing her daughter. She simply told her oldest child she couldn't talk right now and hung up promptly, as if Daria were the one that made the accidental phone call.
After Helen had summarily blown her off, Daria phoned Aunt Amy and told her as much as she knew. Amy told her that Helen could be intense sometimes. After all, both Amy and her niece had known Helen their whole lives and had observed her workaholic, uptight lifestyle with more scrutiny than most.
Amy also brought up Daria's cell phone and how she was the one who was paying for it. She was the one providing Daria with the link to her father, her sister, and herself. If Daria was so put off, she could relinquish the phone and Amy would send her some Dostoevsky novels, instead.
Daria was upfront with her aunt about her lack of appreciation for the cavalier-ness, when in all other contexts, Daria would have considered herself in good company. But this was Daria's family that was falling apart. Dismissal wasn't appreciated. Amy gave in and said she'd call Helen. Helen didn't answer. Amy dropped it.
Amy dropped it until Quinn called her later that week. Quinn was hysterical, upset, and not herself. Amy realized if her adorable, vapid niece was calling her in such a panicked state, the problem truly was as horrible as Daria had described it. Quinn called Rita, she never called Amy.
Amy got on a plane and came to Lawndale. She didn't feel the need to inform Helen beforehand, either.
Amy stayed for five days, sleeping in Daria's room while she was visiting. She spent the first two days trying to confront Helen, making it as difficult as possible for Helen to slink her way out of the situation. Helen, when she couldn't defend herself through words, ignored her sister's presence entirely. It was effective on her husband, why not use the tactic on her sister as well?
Amy hardly recognized her Helen. Helen was a different person. Amy told Helen all of this, and it ricocheted off of Helen and right back onto the rest of the Morgendorffer family.
Amy didn't know what to do, but wasn't about to admit to it.
The rest of Amy's short visit was spent staying up late with Quinn while she unloaded all her bottled up emotions. Amy wasn't used to dealing with the volatile emotions of anyone, let alone those of her distraught niece. Whatever she did, it seemed to work for a little while, though. Quinn was a little happier and after Amy left, she even called her a little more often
"just to talk." Amy knew Quinn was calling because she was lonely and scared, but she couldn't begrudge the youngest Morgendorffer for it.
Quinn turned out to be the easy part. Jake was a whole other problem Amy couldn't begin to fix.
She sat up with Jake, the night before she left, as he unloaded every insecurity, every tale about his own mother and father, every tale about Corporal Ellenbogan, and every recent disappointment Helen wrought. How sad he was and how much, again, he felt the love of his life slipping away from him.
Amy listened as patiently as she could. She tried to get Jake to go to sleep in his own bed that night. He refused, like the man-child Helen often accused him of being. Amy eventually gave up and let him fall asleep on the couch.
Before Jake passed out, Amy told him his life was a mess and that he needed to look past the fact that he'd lost the job at the consulting firm on his principle of employing bad and dumb business decisions. Amy told him to shape up, to stop drinking, and maybe to take up a twelve-step program. Amy told him that he and her sister desperately needed to go to marriage counseling.
Jake's only response was that he needed to call Daria. Amy unplugged all the landlines and let Jake struggle in his inebriated state to figure out why the phone wasn't working. Jake flipped out like a toddler and eventually exhausted himself into sleep.
Amy got on a plane the next day without saying "good-bye" to Helen or Jake. Quinn drove her to the airport. It was Saturday and she would take any excuse she could to get out of the house. Amy hugged her younger niece before she got out of the car. She told Quinn that if things got worse, Quinn could come and see her for a few days, but only as a last resort. She told Quinn that she only had a few months left until graduation. That she was a tough girl, she could stick it out.
Quinn wasn't sure if Amy was being nice or if she meant all the good things she'd said. Quinn wasn't sure if she wanted to know, wasn't sure if she could handle one more false familial promise. It would only lead to more heartbreak.
Daria stepped out of the shower and wiped down her foggy glasses with her towel. A sharp knock came out the door. "Dar-ee-a, hurry up!" Quinn's shrill voice came from the other side of the closed door.
Daria didn't answer her sister. She continued to take her time getting out of the shower and getting dressed. Ignoring Quinn's constant banging on the door didn't do any favors for her aching head.
When she emerged, she walked past her younger, taller sister without a glance, "All yours."
"You don't have to be sarcastic about it," Quinn shot back as she slammed the bathroom door behind her.
Daria walked into her room and passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow, in spite of the recent cup of coffee.
Daria had originally planned to catch a plane back from Boston in the early afternoon, a few days after the semester had actually ended. She was going to come back with Jane, on the same flight, if it could be managed. They were going to get drunk on shitty wine the night before the flight. Wine supplied by Jane's older roommate.
Jane was going to finish her latest masterpiece and Daria was going to sort through all her query letters and decide what her writing projects were going to be released for public consumption that summer. The friends were going to crash in Jane's dorm, sleep in until an ungodly hour, then rush to the airport way behind schedule.
Instead, that plan was trashed by Helen before Daria even presented it to her mother. Helen had her assistant call and book a ticket from Boston to Lawndale via Am-Track. Daria was coming home a few days early, right after her last final. Daria was told she wasn't going to be missing Quinn's graduation. Helen told Daria that her assistant would call her when everything was booked. That she should wait by the fax machine in the dorm hall lobby for her tickets.
Quinn and Jake would pick her up at the station. Quinn said she was driving, because she didn't trust Jake would be sober enough to operate a car.
Quinn hugged her sister at the station when her train arrived, making a rare show of how happy she was to see her. Daria hugged her sister, but didn't offer much more enthusiasm. Jake hugged his daughter and gushed about how happy he was that she was home, all the while freaking out about the prices of Am-Track tickets out of Lawndale and how outrageous the prices of everything were becoming. It was 2002, after all, and the prices would only continue to skyrocket.
It was a small comfort to see that Jake was still retaining a little of his excitable, clueless self. Daria had an awful, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that this mundane moment was going to be the happiest she was going to see her father all summer. Jake didn't notice the melancholy look on Daria's face as he prattled about outrageous consumerism while dragging her suitcases behind him on the way to the car.
Quinn told Daria later that night that if Daria hadn't wanted to come to the graduation, she wished Daria would have been able to stay in Boston for a few more days and not been forced into coming home. All Quinn really wanted was for Helen to show up to her graduation.
Quinn's fears were not totally unfounded. Helen did show up to Quinn's graduation, but she was over an hour late and right before her daughter was about to cross the open air stage on the green space of Lawndale High. Helen hadn't bothered to turn off her cell phone. It went off as Quinn was being handed her diploma. Helen dashed out of the ceremony and was on her way back to work as soon as Quinn was all the way across the stage. Helen had been there a grand total of ten minutes, and it was the most she'd seen her mother all week.
Quinn held it together until that evening. She was in her room in a tearful rage, Daria sitting on the foot of her sister's bed as Quinn marched around her room, venting. Daria had no advice to contribute, but she felt horrible for her sister. She was glad she came home after all. Her being there, maybe, lessened the pain for Quinn. Daria hoped so, anyway, but wouldn't as readily admit to it.
Quinn's landline rang. Daria picked it up. Joey was outside, waiting for Quinn. He'd come to pick her up. Quinn stayed in her room, trying to cover up her tear streaked, mascara stained face with some foundation. Quinn wasn't even ready. She was still in her underwear and a tank top. She hadn't even bothered to look for an outfit, she'd been too busy unloading all her troubles on her sister.
Daria went downstairs and opened the door. Joey came in and made his way up to Quinn's room. He wouldn't stay long, he said. He and Quinn would be gone shortly. Kevin Thompson was having a graduation party tonight at his house. His parents were allegedly out of town and Kevin had allegedly graduated this time.
Jake was already passed out on the couch. Daria tried to block Joey's view of the living room as he headed up the stairs. What was she trying to do? Avoid the embarrassment? Not that it mattered. Joey and Quinn had been together for a few months now. They were more than official and Joey was one of the few things Quinn seemed to speak about happily. Joey was more than well aware of the state of Quinn's homelife, but that didn't mean Daria wanted him to have visual proof.
Once Joey and Quinn had left, Daria sat down at her old desktop in her room and typed a few paragraphs. Melody Powers wasn't running the show right now. Melody Powers wasn't doing anything exciting. She was, however, giving Daria one huge case of writer's block.
Melody Powers had proven to be Daria's staple and her most successful endeavour to date. Raft Literary Magazine had picked up a short Melody Powers story at the end of her first semester. It wasn't Musings Magazine, but it was something. Daria would have sent out even more of the query letters, but her schedule was packed. For the first time in her life, homework and coursework were the priority, instead of her passion projects of writing and general laziness.
Daria stood up from the computer. She was going for a walk and a few slices of pizza to cure her writer's block. She tucked a small notepad and pen in her pants pocket just in case inspiration struck. She set off for Pizza King.
Daria was a few blocks down the street from the house, when a familiar car pulled up next to her. It was newer than the one she'd ridden in a few times in high school. Newer was a stretch. The vehicle was clunking and rattling as it idled next to her. Rust competing with the blue paint job.
"Daria, how's it going?" Trent asked, a smoker's cough punctuating the question.
"Fine. How are you?" she asked, mostly to be polite.
"I'm good." Pause. "Janey is coming home tomorrow. She's excited to see you."
"I'm sure she's barely surviving without me."
"Forgot how funny you were, Daria," Trent coughed.
"I live and die by other people's opinions of me," Daria said, impassively.
Trent said he was going to Jesse's for rehearsal, and to get drunk off their faces. Daria told him "good luck" in the most non-committal tone she could muster.
Trent invited her to join. Daria was about to pass it up. It was a waste of time. There was no point. Trent was a secondary figure in her life now anyway, not inspiring any real negative or positive emotions.
But...what else better did Daria really have to do tonight anyway? Sulk and be lonely? Sit at a computer typing trash until her writer's block corrected itself? Fuck it. She got in the car.
They sat in Jesse's garage. Daria nursing beers, Mystik Spiral shotgunning beers. She listened to their terrible songs. Their music hadn't improved since Daria's high school days. She made it a point of telling them as much. Jesse just didn't seem to understand that Daria was, in fact, being serious in her criticisms and being not her usual sarcastic self. Nick and Max were too drunk to be offended and Trent only shrugged it off. No one understood Trent and his band's music. He couldn't expect people to suddenly start understanding now.
Daria had a better night then she'd wanted to admit. She was able to throw snide comments around as much as she wanted and no one faulted her for it. She was peer pressured into shotgunning a beer and got more of it on herself than in her mouth, but she'd done it anyway and was met with cheers and riffs from Mystik Spiral. It could have been a worse night.
Trent volunteered to drive himself and Daria back to their neighborhood. Daria took his keys from him and said she would drive instead, she was much less far gone. He didn't argue.
When they both got into the car, sealing themselves off from the outside world, they knew it was going to happen. They didn't talk much or ask each other any questions that would complicate the exchange. The tension was acknowledged and it seemed pointless to deny it.
Daria cautiously operated the death trap for the few miles it took to get back to the Lane's place.
When Daria parked the car, they remained quiet for a minute. Trent looked over at her and gave her a smooth line. Daria looked back at him and told him to cut it out, she was smarter than that and he knew it. Trent agreed and went for the direct approach. He asked her if she wanted to come in. She accepted.
They made some strong drinks in the kitchen then went upstairs. Trent played her a few more of his new compositions in the privacy of his unkempt room. Daria told him he sounded pretty good when he didn't sing or play chords. After the insult, Trent sang louder to try and get a laugh out of her. Daria didn't humor him with a laugh like he hoped she would. He got a wry, Daria smile out of her instead. It was good enough, he would take it.
Trent and Daria didn't approach any emotional nuances or heavy discussions. This wasn't that kind of one-night stand. Jane was their only common link these days and Trent already had an inkling on what a shit-storm the Morgendorffer household was from what Jane had told him.
All Daria said was she felt like it made little difference whether or not she went home that night. Trent asked her if she wanted to stay and if, maybe, she wanted to get up to something else? Daria said she could stay and she did, in fact, want to get up to something else.
It was raw and quick. Then they did it again. And another time after that.
They both passed out before the disgusting haziness of their hangovers could reach them.
Daria, two or three years ago, would have been so mortified she would have launched herself off to the moon, never to be seen again. Twenty-year-old Daria could acknowledge tonight had been exactly what she'd needed: A night providing a brief escape to tie up the stress of the past semester. A pleasant night before this summer came rolling in and she was forced to confront all of her parents' problems and figure out how she was going to fix, or more likely, only whether, this special brand of heartless and neglectful dysfunction Jake and Helen had cultivated.
When Daria woke up with the second hangover she'd ever had in her life, she scrambled to find her things in the clothing tornado on Trent's floor and she slipped out the door, not feeling to particularly sentimental about her night with Trent, just angry that she had to return to the hostile air surrounding the Morgendorffer household.
Daria woke up to a sharp knock on her bedroom door in the late afternoon, "Your friend's here!"
Quinn was shouting at Daria's door from over her shoulder, already making her way back into her own room. Jake was in the dining room, supposedly filling out job applications, but probably mixing drinks instead.
Daria got dressed to go outside, lumbered down the stairs, and opened the front door, the sunlight making her now dull headache spike up a little more.
"I got you something," Jane said, with an amused smile on her face. She held up a plastic grocery bag for Daria.
Daria dug through the bag to find her previously missing bra and t-shirt. She grimaced at her best friend.
"Let's get pizza. And while we're there you can tell about how you ended up sleeping with my brother." Jane still had that stupid, amused smile on her face.
"I hate you," Daria said flatly.