Paternal and Proud [LAMS Short Story]

X - Hysterical and Heartless

Frances got off the bus and entered her school. She was feeling pretty desolate, pretty distracted, very... out of it. She didn't know how to feel about her father. She was upset with herself because her father was upset with her and she was just feeling very lost when it came to emotions and connecting with people.

She knew full well she wasn't a particularly approachable person. She was quiet in class and didn't have much of a reputation. She'd honestly be surprised if all of her teachers actually knew her name.

She'd lost Theodosia, her once-best-friend, and, though she had some acquaintances that she knew she could try to initiate a conversation with, they all had better friends than her, anyway. Even the one seemingly stable thing in her life, her only family member, her father, seemed closed off, quieter, turning from the vibrant smear of paint on her empty canvas to a dull gray that seemed to be slowly disappearing.

Even Philip, who had stopped approaching her but still sent genuine smiles in her direction whenever he saw her, was looking devoid of emotion today. Surprisingly, in fact, he seemed to be as alone as her. Instead of being surrounded by his posse of adoring friends, he was by himself in the hallway, looking disheveled in much more of a sloppy rather than charming way. He looked much more tired than usual, and the smile that Frances was so completely accustomed to seeing grace his face was gone, and a scowl - an actual scowl - replaced it.

As he walked through the hallway, Frances saw Theodosia approach him with her gorgeous inviting smile, confident and cheery. To Frances' surprise, Philip forced a tight-lipped smile and nodded a hello but didn't stop and talk; he instead motioned for her to give him one second, and brushed past her. She saw Theodosia blink, confused and stunned, as he continued through the hallway, scanning for someone.

Frances turned to her locker, the staring was probably getting a little creepy anyway, and was about to leave when Philip's eyes landed on her.

"Frances!" Philip called, voice demanding and almost harsh. Frances actually froze, startling herself. She hadn't planned on listening to Philip if he'd decided to talk to her, but then again, she hadn't expected such an angry tone from him.

Philip strode up to her, and Frances had to admit that she was intimidated. Not that she would let herself show it, but he looked pretty pissed, eyes narrowed, posture tense, jaw tight.

She looked at him, eyes wide. "Philip? Are... are you okay?"

His look told her that he was surprised, insulted even, that she had the audacity to ask such a question. "Am I okay?!" he growled. "No. No, I am not, and you want to know why?"

Not really!  Frances thought immediately, confusion and anxiety racing through her. "Um-"

He grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom, devoid of desks, chairs, everything. She yelped and tugged her arm out of his grasp, but didn't yell at him defensively like she normally would have. "Philip. Philip, what's going on? What's wrong?"

Philip slammed the door so forcefully behind her that she actually jumped a good half a foot, shoulders tensing.  "Oh my God!" Frances blurted.  "Philip, what's wrong?" 

Philip grabbed her shoulders roughly like he was going to shove her, but he quickly let go, as if to stop himself from physically assaulting her.  Turning around and pacing the room in a completely aggravated fashion, he swiped his fingers through his hair roughly. "What's wrong? You're asking me 'what's wrong?'" he yelled, whirling around to face her. "What's wrong is that my dad was up drinking last night because you were too selfish to let him be happy! That's 'what's wrong!'  You're 'what's wrong!'" He was breathing heavily, with wild, furious eyes. Despite his glare being filled with fiery rage, she felt frozen in place, a completely bewildered look on her face.

"Philip, what in the world-?" Frances stammered out. "What are you talking about? I didn't - I didn't do anything to your dad!"

"Maybe not directly," Philip snarled. "But you told your dad what, that you go or his boyfriend goes?! You made him choose?"

"What? No, I never-"

"I don't know what your problem is with me or my dad or your dad, or hell, even your mom, but they were happy together!" Philip growled. "And my dad was smiling for the first time in months because of your dad and I don't know what the fuck you think gives you the right to take that joy away from him, but you don't! You don't - have - the - right." With each word, he took a step closer to Frances, an angry finger pointed at her.

Frances swallowed nervously. She could feel prickling in her eyes and immediately hated herself. It seemed that she was crying at every little damn thing lately and she absolutely despised herself for it. "I didn't tell him to choose, I didn't - I don't-" she was breathing quickly, frantically, trying to answer, to defend herself. "I just-"

Philip's glare didn't waver. His fists didn't unclench. "You just what, Frances?  You're so selfish, you know that?  You could've been happy for Theo instead of jealous.  You threw away a friendship with the most amazing person you could ever meet because she was happy.  What kind of person does that make you?"

Frances could definitely feel the tears now, and they weren't just prickling. They were burning, pooling, ready to spill, but Philip didn't soften.  Frances choked on her tears, swallowing hard in a pathetic attempt to keep them from falling.  "You don't have to rub it in, I know Theodosia was a great person-" 

"-yeah, she is a great person - accepting and generous and kind and everything you aren't - maybe that's why she was your only friend.  Because she was the only person who would put up with... this." With a disgusted look, Philip gestured to all of Frances, who took a step back, feeling beyond hurt and betrayed. She drew in an actual gasp at his cutting words, and not a dramatic or sarcastic one for once. It was shaky and weak and wounded and her lips pressed together, quivering. She didn't notice her hands were shaking, she couldn't see anything through her tears. They blurred her vision, turning the pattern on Philip's shirt into smears of color, turning the lights above her into starry streaks. She stumbled away, out of the classroom, and took off down the hallway, tears leaving hot streaks down her cheeks.

She distantly heard the bell ring through her fiercely emotional haze but couldn't find it in herself to give a flying fuck, so she instead slammed open the door to the bathroom and whirled into a stall. She threw her backpack down and slid down the stall door, burying her face in her arms and letting out gushing, racking sobs that tore through her body, accompanied by painful chokes and cries.

She wasn't exactly sure what it was that she was crying about, but inside she knew, something had clicked, something Philip said had struck home, and something inside her was furious at herself that it took almost a complete stranger screaming at her for her to understand herself, who she was. What she was.

Unaccepting. Rude. Jealous.

Selfish.

Really, only a couple of words could sum up what that made Frances.

A villain. A bully. A failure.

A bitch.

She was a horrible friend. An awful person. She pushed people away if she couldn't have them all to herself. She didn't know how to love.

Heartless.