Chapter 2: Alone
"It's better to be unhappy alone than unhappy with someone." - Marilyn Monroe
The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are. It's about being an individual, standing out from the crowd, going after your goals... but what if one of your goals was to aspire to be someone else? What if you were boring; shy and quiet? What if, when you first entered first grade, the teachers thought you were dumb for being you. You didn't say a word in class, and you didn't care to say a word to anyone that could possibly in a lifetime shut you out. What if people thought you were a freak, a weirdo, for purposely doodling outside of the lines?But, that's just who you were.
Gwen felt that some people could spend their whole lives telling others what to do.
"Listen, all I'm saying is that I think you need to break out of your shell sweetie."
The cramped cubicle like room echoed the sound of a single clock, ticking away the seconds of the fleeting sun.
Instead of responding, Gwen's large doe eyes scanned over the compressed space, taking in her surroundings. A specific array of eye-catching diplomas caught her line of vision, each hung proudly on the left side of the wall. 6... Gwen must have counted before she lost track and got caught up in the gold lining of it all.
Although, she wasn't really sure of what each word meant, she remembers an old teacher of hers telling her that when an adult had the gold lining rectangles on their wall, they were an expert. At what? She hadn't gone on to explain, but an expert was someone to be respected of his craft; qualified as she put it.
"Gwen, ask yourself. What do you really want? Do you want to be the girl that always hides behind the playground and doodles to herself? Do you want to be alone?"
Gwen's eyes widened at the bluntness of the question. What did she want?
"I- I don't want to be alone."
She hated being alone. Maybe for a few moments, watching the stars and engulfed in her silly dreams, but deserted? Abandoned? No, she didn't want to be alone. She'd seen people that have been alone. She's heard stories about people that have been alone.
Her mom was alone. At least that's what she had told the young child. 'He left me alone, Gwen.' She would cry out. But if alone was to the exclusion of all others, then who was she? Was Gwen not enough to say that she wasn't alone? She probably needed someone better worth screaming to the world, 'I'm not alone! I'm not alone!' But Gwen's mom was definitely alone. And if that's what being alone looked like, she didn't want to be alone. Ever.
"So why do you hide, Gwen? Why don't you play with the other kids during recess? I'm sure they'd love to hang out with you."
She simply criticized.
"I don't hide, I just want to be-"
"What? Alone?"
Gwen had froze in her plush seat, and furiously gripped the sides of her wheelie chair. She studied the woman's features intently with a hard cold glare. Her auburn colored hair was styled up into a messy bun, a single strand falling down into the woman's glasses which supported the sight of her clover green eyes. Her outfit was loose yet stern, taking upon a nice green blouse that bellowed in the air each time the noisy electric fan would whizz by in her direction. On her left wrist was a shiny silver watch, ticking away in coordination to the clock hanging at the side of the room. Traveling up her arm and to her hand was a nice, gold wedding ring. She knew that it was one by the way that her mom used to flaunt hers around to all of her girlfriends when she had just gotten married two years ago.
'"See Gwen, when you get married, your ring is going to go on this finger. You see? Left hand, right next to the pinky."'
On her name plate, Gwen could clearly make out the letters, Mrs. Ronald - Guidance Counselor.
'When a girl gets married, she changes her last name to her husband's and people start calling her misses. That's why people call me Mrs. Matthews now. Gwen clutched her mother's left hand tightly. "So what does that make me?" she asked. "That makes you super, duper, wonderful Gwen." Her mother planted a kiss softly upon her head as the two continued their walk home.'
Tears. Gwen violently slammed her eyes shut, in utter annoyance with the lady for digging into her life. How would it feel if she was the one being interrogated? Then they could truly see which one of them was really alone.
"Gwen, dear? Did I upset you?"
The woman reached out a tan hand in her direction, and Gwen violently slapped it away. She couldn't cry in front of her. At least not like this.
"Y-You said you wanted me to be myself. W-why are you trying to change me?" she stuttered, trying to choke down the tears.
"Gwen, all I want for you is to become the best version of you that you can possibly be."
A single droplet rolled down her left cheek.
"Well, this is the best it's ever going to get. Sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Ronald."
Without another word, Gwen quickly lifted her backpack from off the ground and rushed out of the office.
"Gwen honey! Dinner is ready," she heard a voice call out from the kitchen.
She had just finished sketching the outline of the droplets from the pouring rain. Her damp hair ran to slightly below her shoulders and a soaked book-bag sat at the corner of the living room.
"Gwen!"
Her mother had entered the room, and gasped at the sight. Her daughter was draped around the newly furnished couch, gazing through the triple window unit and out at the hideously growing storm.
"Honey, I told you not to go on the couch. Your hair is still dripping wet from when you walked home from school today!"
The mother took her little one into her bosom and relocated her on her play-mat, away from the window and any water non-resistant material.
"I'm sorry," a deep blush complimented her pale skin, "I just wanted to watch the rain."
Mrs. Matthews cracked a sincere smile at the girl and chuckled at the site of her dripping bob.
"Oh, what are we going to do with you Gwen? I had made sure to pack your umbrella in your bag this morning when you went to school. Did you even check?"
"I did. And I used it, but as I was walking, I decided I didn't want to hide anymore."
Gwen's mother crossed her arms over the pink suit.
"So you closed your umbrella and ran the rest of the way home?"
Gwen smiled at her mother, giving her a confident nod. Mrs. Matthews chuckled at her daughter, reaching out her arms to lift her off the ground.
"What are we going to do with you little duck?"
"Quack," was her only response.
Gwen and her mother took their regular seats at the dinner table. The eldest of course, took the one all the way at the far right end, and Gwen took the immediate seat to her left. Her little brother Charlie, sat in his green booster seat and dug his gums into a serving of mashed potatoes.
The remaining two had wasted no time, feasting on their servings of grilled chicken and rice that the older woman had prepared.
Charlie giggled as he smushed his food covered hands into his mother's face.
"Looks likes Charlie's at his experimenting with food stage. That was fast." She reached for a pale tablecloth.
"You hadn't reached that stage until you were at least 11 months Gwen. I remember the first time you flung a spoon of apple sauce across the kitchen. It had hit your dad right in the head, and he had walked around the house like that for another half hour before he realized what was up."
She let out a soft, reminiscent laugh. Gwen smiled to her plate as she cut off a piece of the chicken with her dinner knife.
Things always did get awkward whenever someone had brought up dad. It was an uncomfortable silence, and most of the time, one of them would quickly veer away and start another subject. But not this time. The couple allowed the evading silence to choke them.
"So mom," Gwen flicked her fork around the rice, "Heather is having her birthday party tomorrow."
Mrs. Matthews' eyes lightened at the news.
"Oh! That's great for her! How old is she turning? Eight?"
"Seven." Gwen murmured.
"Oh."
Another awkward silence.
"So, she invited me to come."
"What time would this party be?"
Gwen fidgeted in her seat.
"It- It starts at 12 pm. and it ends at 3 pm. Please can I go, it would mean a lot to Heath-" she babbled.
"No."
"But-"
"No."
Gwen's eyes shot shyly from her plate, and up to study her mother's face. Her expression was pale and unreadable. She continued to cut her meat as if nothing had happened; as if she didn't just break her daughter's heart.
"Why not?"
The older woman sighed.
"Because Gwen, you may not have noticed it, but ever since you were 1 year old, we've had this tradition in our house. Every single Saturday at 1:00 p.m. precisely, we have our family lunch. And if you're not there, it's not so much of a family lunch now is it?"
"Mom, dad started that tradition 6 years ago. We don't have to keep doing it. And it's just one Saturday. I promise I'll be here for the one next week."
She stared at her mother through a tightening beacon of hope.
"No, It's not just one Saturday. One Saturday, turns to two, and two turns to three, and then three turns to never! I work hard everyday to keep this household together and it's going to stay that way. You'll have to find another day to celebrate with Heather. I'll take you to get something nice for her on Sunday."
Gwen's cheeks reddened out of embarrassment.
"But mom. You don't understand. This is really important to Heather. If I'm not there, she'll be crushed."
"No Gwen! You don't understand!"
The slamming of silverware echoed around the house, and Gwen shut her eyes tight from the impact of the shock, only reopening to see the brunette violently clutching a fork and a knife in either hand. Her brown eyes darkened and her usual smile was replaced with a scowl.
"Mom-" Gwen whispered.
"Not. another. word." She threatened.
A tear slipped out of Gwen's right eye and rolled down her glossy cheeks.
"You- You're being stupid!"
"The only one being stupid here is you! Don't you ever talk to me that way! The answer is no, and that's final. Now go upstairs to your room, so you can finish your supper somewhere that I don't have to look at you."
She was so upset, Gwen could always visibly see steam coming out of her ears.
Charlie paused from playing with his mash potatoes and stared at his older sister with resembling chocolate brown eyes.
She quickly rubbed her long sweater sleeve across her cheek, took her plate of food and ran upstairs without a single thought of reconsideration.
She slammed the door shut to her room, turned off the lights and began to cry.
Maybe she was just confused and this whole thing would blow over by morning.
Or maybe she was just alone.
A/N: Please review! It doesn't have to be anything in depth, it could be short, simple... however you please. But how will I know if you liked it, if you don't tell me? Thank you reading. Till next time! :3