Summary: This is the diary of Laura, a character in The Glass Menagerie. Laura conflicts with her mother, worries for her brother, and brushes with love. This is a one-shot fanfic.
Author's Note: I had to do this for a summer reading project, and I thought it turned out well so I figured I'd post it. The Glass Menagerie is a wonderful book (written in play format). Even if you don't like this fanfic, you should read The Glass Menagerie.
Dear Diary,
Mother seems to have receded farther into a world created in her mind, based on memories are her own strange imagination. She seems to believe I will soon receive many gentleman callers, which is most definitely impossible. It is impossible because I am shy and crippled, yes, crippled, it is true no matter what Mother says.
I am torn between two feelings, one of pity, one of frustration. I pity Mother because, despite her grief caused by father's leaving, she must care for both Tom and me. However, Mother also causes me deep frustration. She, unable to cope with her grief, has created an imaginary world where she cannot see real life problems. She doesn't understand that I will never have any gentleman callers, she cannot see that I am crippled rather than just unusual with a minor defect, and she doesn't realize that Tom is miserable with his life.
Dear Diary,
I feel so ashamed! Mother found out that I have not been attending the business college to learn how to type. Mother has been paying all this time for me to learn at a class I do not attend. The class made me so nervous I vomited the first day and was too embarrassed to return. I do feel a slight happiness however, at least I no longer have to lie to Mother about the class.
In addition, I feel sad and empty. Mother and I were talking yet again about gentleman callers, and I brought up Jim. Jim, the only boy I ever came close to loving. Jim, the high-school hero, pretty much the only boy who ever talked to me besides Tom. He had the most wonderful voice and the sweetest grin. He used to call me Blue Roses! Not as an affectionate nickname, I assure you, but simply as a misconception of the word pleurosis. Oh, how I miss dear Jim!
Dear Diary,
I am absolutely miserable! Tom and Mother had a huge fight and now they refuse to speak to each other. To be completely honest, I sympathize with Tom. He is stuck working in a warehouse making shoes, a job I know he does not enjoy whatsoever. I understand how he wishes to escape, but I wish he'd just look for a different job rather than going out every night drinking and whatever else he does when he's out at night. Yes, he may claim to be going to the movies, but Tom cannot fool me, I know he cannot possibly be at the movies night after night, coming home with alcohol and smoke fumes on his breath.
Poor Tom has had to support the family ever since Father left. Tom has to earn money to pay the bills and everything, and yet Mother controls, or tries to control, his life. Our house really is Tom's house, no matter what Mother says. So far, he's given up his life for Mother and me. Tom could be doing anything, traveling the world, sailing the seas, having the adventures he so craves, but he stays to support the family. And mother still has the nerve to argue with him!
Dear Diary,
I had to open the door tonight for Tom. He was home so very late, with a scent of alcohol on his breath. He said he was at the movies, and described a spectacular show, but he was lying, I could tell. He is miserable and I don't blame him, but, as I said before, I so wish he wouldn't drink.
Mother doesn't know about his drinking habits, how could she, surrounded by her imaginary world of happiness. Sometimes I envy mother. She is always happy, except on those rare occasions when a stray bad feeling breaks through. Even then she does something else to ignore the bad. Recently she's been trying to sell subscriptions to The Homemaker's Companion. I simply don't understand how she can ignore all the bad events when so few happy ones occur. At least it seems that the short feud between Mother and Tom has come to an end for now.
Dear Diary,
I have only just managed to snatch a moment away from all the excitement before the guest arrives. We are to have what Mother insists on referring to as a "gentleman caller"! At first I was merely excited and nervous, but now I am completely terrified.
Mother helped me dress earlier in the evening. She put me in a delicate confection of a dream dress and helped me arrange my hair atop my head. You will never believe what she did after that. She forced me to wear powder puffs in my dress to accentuate my bosom! I have to admit, I did attain a certain beauty which I usually do not have, but all the preparation was making me quite nervous.
After all that, Mother finally told me the caller's name, and I became quite frightened. The gentleman caller's name is Jim! Jim O'Connor! Possibly the very same Jim I almost loved once! I hope it is a different Jim O'Connor, but what are the chances that two people of the exact same name would live in the same town?
Dear Diary,
The gentleman caller was Jim. You may think I would be happy to see him again, but you would be wrong. Dear Jim, he was just the same as I remember him from high school. Sweet, caring, wishing only to help. We talked and talked after dinner (which I didn't attend due to sickness from being to nervous). I was ecstatic and love-struck. He was, well, he was Jim. Oh! And he kissed me! In just the sweetest way! Then all my happiness was broken by a single, yet important fact.
Jim was engaged to a girl named Betty. Jim was the same as I remember him. In high school, he came into my life, unknowingly took my heart, and left. This time, he unexpectedly waltzed in, again unknowingly took my heart, and abruptly left. I wept in Mother's lap for hours, then tried to sleep and only wept more. Oh Jim! Dear Jim, I most likely will never see you again, though I will always love you.