I *wish* I was talented and creative enough to come up with something as
good as The Virgin Suicides, but alas, it is not mine. Ownership honors go
to Jeffrey Eugenides, Sofia Coppola, and technically Kirsten Dunst, James
Woods, Kathleen Turner, Josh Hartnett, et al.
Trip
Chapter 3: Crash and Burn
The note came (apologetically) from Chase Buell. It was in Trip's mailbox, sealed in an envelope with a letter from Chase himself, apologizing about the second note's content. Trip read the note with a crushed heart.
"Dear whoever, tell Trip I'm over him. He's a creep. Guess Who."
Shit. He hadn't counted on this. Hadn't counted on Lux not returning his love. He was so certain that Lux was as madly in love with him as he was with her. The note he held in his hand, scribbled with a purple pen, was the final blow.
He slowly walked back into his house, into his bedroom, and sank down onto his bed. All of his fantasies about having Lux in this room with him vanished, as if they were a flame blown out by a sudden sharp wind. He fell back onto his pillows and stared at his ceiling dejectedly.
No use telling his father about this.
There was a knock on his bedroom door, and he considered telling whoever was there to fuck off and leave him alone. But he didn't have the will to speak, so he stayed silent. The person on the other side of the door, hearing no response, came in.
It was Donald. "Trip? You okay?"
Trip grunted.
"Is it that girl?"
Trip sat up, surprised that Donald had hit on it so quickly.
"It wasn't hard to tell," Donald said, reading Trip's face. He noticed the paper in Trip's hand. "Can I see?"
Trip handed it over, and Donald read it quickly.
"Pretty bad," he said, handing the note back to Trip.
Trip nodded and crumpled the paper in his fist.
"Well, now you have to ask yourself if she's worth continuing the chase," Donald said.
"She is," Trip croaked out, "but she doesn't want to be chased. Not by me, anyway."
"Then let her go. 'If you love something, set it free.'" With that old adage, Donald left the room, confident that he'd helped Trip solve his problem.
But Trip didn't want to set Lux free. He wanted to keep her with him forever.
* * *
Trip's way of accepting Lux's rejection was sex. He got his hands on every golden-haired girl he could. He usually mentally twisted around a feature on each of the girls to make it look like something on Lux. If a girl smiled in a similar way to Lux, Trip would use his charm to win her over and into his bed. Madly, he wondered if Lux knew about all this. Maybe, he thought, if she knew he was sleeping with all these girls because he wished they were her, she'd come back to him. But he never heard anything from Lux, or, for that matter, one of the group of boys who worshipped her.
This new girl in his bed had eyes that slightly resembled Lux's. What's more, she even asked him questions about her.
"What was Lux like?" "Was she really stuck up, or was she just shy?" "What was up with her little sister?"
Trip didn't want to answer her, and he kissed her hard on the mouth to silence her. When they were done, the girl got out of the bed and slipped into her clothes. She smiled at Trip, tucked her hair behind her ear, and left. Trip lay flat on his back, contemplating the ceiling and seeing Lux's form there, smiling, batting her eyes, blowing him kisses. He rolled over onto his stomach and folded his arms under his head.
He was on the verge of sleep when there was a frantic knock on his door. Trip jumped, alarmed at the urgency. The door burst open and his father stood there, eyes wide.
"Trip? You know that girl Lux that you love?"
Of course, Trip thought grumpily. But he sensed the anxiety in his father's voice and sat up straight in bed.
"This is going to be hard to say...." Trip's father began.
"What is it, Dad?" Trip asked, a million thoughts running through his head.
"Lux and her sisters committed suicide last night," his father said.
Trip felt as though someone had slugged him in the gut. "All of them?" he whispered.
His father nodded. "One by hanging, one by pills, one by oven, and one by sitting in a running car in a closed garage," he counted them off.
"How--how did Lux die?" Trip asked.
"I don' think I should--"
"Tell me," Trip said, his voice unnaturally steady.
"I think she was the one in the car," Trip's father said.
Trip's shoulders collapsed; his entire body lost its stiffness.
"I'm sorry, Trip," his father said, leaving the room.
Trip began to breathe hard.
Lux was gone.
She wasn't just scorning him and locking herself in her house. She was dead and she was never coming back.
Slowly, shakily, Trip got out of his bed and pulled on a pair of pants. He wobbled out to the front door and stepped out onto his front lawn. He collapsed to his knees in the direction of the Lisbon house; he was a worshiper and it was his holy temple. Leaning back his head, he screamed one word into the early-morning sky.
"LUX!!"
For the first time since he was a little boy, Trip Fontaine buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
Trip
Chapter 3: Crash and Burn
The note came (apologetically) from Chase Buell. It was in Trip's mailbox, sealed in an envelope with a letter from Chase himself, apologizing about the second note's content. Trip read the note with a crushed heart.
"Dear whoever, tell Trip I'm over him. He's a creep. Guess Who."
Shit. He hadn't counted on this. Hadn't counted on Lux not returning his love. He was so certain that Lux was as madly in love with him as he was with her. The note he held in his hand, scribbled with a purple pen, was the final blow.
He slowly walked back into his house, into his bedroom, and sank down onto his bed. All of his fantasies about having Lux in this room with him vanished, as if they were a flame blown out by a sudden sharp wind. He fell back onto his pillows and stared at his ceiling dejectedly.
No use telling his father about this.
There was a knock on his bedroom door, and he considered telling whoever was there to fuck off and leave him alone. But he didn't have the will to speak, so he stayed silent. The person on the other side of the door, hearing no response, came in.
It was Donald. "Trip? You okay?"
Trip grunted.
"Is it that girl?"
Trip sat up, surprised that Donald had hit on it so quickly.
"It wasn't hard to tell," Donald said, reading Trip's face. He noticed the paper in Trip's hand. "Can I see?"
Trip handed it over, and Donald read it quickly.
"Pretty bad," he said, handing the note back to Trip.
Trip nodded and crumpled the paper in his fist.
"Well, now you have to ask yourself if she's worth continuing the chase," Donald said.
"She is," Trip croaked out, "but she doesn't want to be chased. Not by me, anyway."
"Then let her go. 'If you love something, set it free.'" With that old adage, Donald left the room, confident that he'd helped Trip solve his problem.
But Trip didn't want to set Lux free. He wanted to keep her with him forever.
* * *
Trip's way of accepting Lux's rejection was sex. He got his hands on every golden-haired girl he could. He usually mentally twisted around a feature on each of the girls to make it look like something on Lux. If a girl smiled in a similar way to Lux, Trip would use his charm to win her over and into his bed. Madly, he wondered if Lux knew about all this. Maybe, he thought, if she knew he was sleeping with all these girls because he wished they were her, she'd come back to him. But he never heard anything from Lux, or, for that matter, one of the group of boys who worshipped her.
This new girl in his bed had eyes that slightly resembled Lux's. What's more, she even asked him questions about her.
"What was Lux like?" "Was she really stuck up, or was she just shy?" "What was up with her little sister?"
Trip didn't want to answer her, and he kissed her hard on the mouth to silence her. When they were done, the girl got out of the bed and slipped into her clothes. She smiled at Trip, tucked her hair behind her ear, and left. Trip lay flat on his back, contemplating the ceiling and seeing Lux's form there, smiling, batting her eyes, blowing him kisses. He rolled over onto his stomach and folded his arms under his head.
He was on the verge of sleep when there was a frantic knock on his door. Trip jumped, alarmed at the urgency. The door burst open and his father stood there, eyes wide.
"Trip? You know that girl Lux that you love?"
Of course, Trip thought grumpily. But he sensed the anxiety in his father's voice and sat up straight in bed.
"This is going to be hard to say...." Trip's father began.
"What is it, Dad?" Trip asked, a million thoughts running through his head.
"Lux and her sisters committed suicide last night," his father said.
Trip felt as though someone had slugged him in the gut. "All of them?" he whispered.
His father nodded. "One by hanging, one by pills, one by oven, and one by sitting in a running car in a closed garage," he counted them off.
"How--how did Lux die?" Trip asked.
"I don' think I should--"
"Tell me," Trip said, his voice unnaturally steady.
"I think she was the one in the car," Trip's father said.
Trip's shoulders collapsed; his entire body lost its stiffness.
"I'm sorry, Trip," his father said, leaving the room.
Trip began to breathe hard.
Lux was gone.
She wasn't just scorning him and locking herself in her house. She was dead and she was never coming back.
Slowly, shakily, Trip got out of his bed and pulled on a pair of pants. He wobbled out to the front door and stepped out onto his front lawn. He collapsed to his knees in the direction of the Lisbon house; he was a worshiper and it was his holy temple. Leaning back his head, he screamed one word into the early-morning sky.
"LUX!!"
For the first time since he was a little boy, Trip Fontaine buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
