See You Again: Wlw Short Story

The Burden Of Opinions

The night was bitter and cold, yet they had each other, curled up beneath the corasting stars. She leaned over and kissed her, a dauntless mindset upon her, the stars exploding with delight above, sparks bejeweling the summer grass.

7 years prior:

The Darles were a rigid family, moved only by the antics and rambling words of their daughter, notorious for 'being an anomaly', or so they state during teas and gatherings, ask anyone. They were particularly wealthy, with a grand sprawling estate, and a pond where birds would swoop down to explore. The grass was kept neat and tidy, and the white fence sharply enclosed all land titled theirs; a field of crops, and a sumptuous house, with deep halls and family portraits, ancient antiques and white lace. Not a speck of dirt was present, nor was much flare and personal touch. The air always smelt of dust, as if never truly inhabited, and a certain sensation of tentativity greeted the morning, much like today.

"What on Earth does this mean?" Demanded a voice torn with the raw sincerity of rage. The breakfast table was lit by sunbeams from the vast window to their left, the steam of regular coffee dancing around the rich wood table in swirls.

"Dear, I too attended this school, and it created many opportunities for me, look around, for I am married to a wealthy husband," (with this she shot her husband a look of plastered-on fondness, who stroked his mustache in contemplation of whether or not he should interject), "and I have a beautiful daughter, and a smart son. I deem my life successful, and I owe most of that to 'Elspeth's Finishing School For Ladies'. There I attained proper skills on how to become a lady, not a filthy rag-tag girl who ventures into the woods after class, who tears her pants on tree bark, draws and blurts out in class, who- who takes an interest in things not needed. We fear you are becoming unhinged. Your relationship with your classmate Daya, is not..
"No, no, you mustn't form such habits. You must go. Final discussion. You'll be fine, you have a week to prepare."

Lillian yearned to laugh directly in her mother's powered face, with a thin mouth and pink dress, the colour of artificial blush. She believed she sounded metal, honestly. A fiery hatred was brewing in the pit of her stomach, a foul concoction of betrayal and hurt.

"So I must leave. That's absurd! I'll continue with my studies at home, get into college: I promise I won't ever do anything I'm not permitted to, please." Desperation began seeping in. "Dad, you must deem this arbitrary, I'll finish my studies, get a job, and leave. You won't have to hear from me again while I stay, I won't speak, I won't."

Her mom began again. "College?! Finishing school is final, no lady ever achieved anything worthwhile in college. You truly think you can make it out there, make a living for yourself?" She scoffs, and pours Lillian a glass of obnoxious orange juice. "Honey, what with me expecting my next son, your new baby brother, we are going to need a fortunate man to tend to our land, and support us financially, especially since your brother is off to college, and no longer can. We are growing older, and obligation is a necessity. We need to be well-tended to. You'll do that for your family, won't you? A life complete with comfort, near your hometown...it's everything a girl, no woman, could need."

Lillian stood up, off the chair, and , and smoothed her dress out of habit, then suddenly furious she did so. Lillian wanted to fulfill none of her parents' demands, for they were gratuitous, and the opposite of helpful. They wanted her to leave? Then leave she shall. The only thing was that she was to not see her baby brother grow up over the course of four years. The things she did with her family and her routine were irrelevant. She would be thrust into a school of strangers. Being by her lonesome had to be enough.

"Lillian, don't be dramatic." Her father advised firmly at her flushed face and manic expression dotted with rage. He folded his newspaper in half and set it on the table, clearing his throat with assertive might.

Lillian gaped at him, incredulous, and, afraid she might say something she'd regret, sprinted out of the room, herself pausing the moment before she exited.
"What did I do?" Lillian blurted to no one in particular, almost ashamed her voice came out as a mere whisper. Feeling the hot prick of tears beginning to form, she burst up the wooden staircase, seeking the comfort of her room, if only temporarily.
The glow of the lamp lit up her room, and she blew it out, pulling the covers over her tangled hair and squeezing her eyes shut.

A little while later, the house had collapsed into a cold deafening silence, that bored into the walls of Lillian's mind. Restless turning and tossing, with no means of ceasing, led to her bounding out of bed. She tore through the house, skidded in her wool socks across the glossy hardwood floor, (something she used to do to pretend she was ice-skating), and pulled the front door open. A breeze brushed her hair off her shoulders with ease, its warmth rejuvenating in a sense, and the crisp air filled her lungs up to its capacity.
Lillian smiled, and began to break into a jog over the droplets of dew, gleaming in the rays of morning sunlight, adrenaline dissolving apart her sorrows. She was headed for the outskirts of their garden decked in vegetables, where the vast woods lay.

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