Paternal and Proud [LAMS Short Story]

XI - Reclusive and Realizing

Frances struggled through the rest of the day. She knew it was already trouble enough that she'd missed first period, so despite the crushing feeling in her chest and the burning of her eyes that told her her tears hadn't gone away for good, she managed to stick it out for the rest of the school day.

During the entire day, she felt empty. No one tried to talk to her, and she was fine with that. She hated herself. She could feel it deep inside, as people silently watched her tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes and miserable countenance. She didn't want to be seen by these people. If Theodosia - the kindest, most gracious person she'd ever met - couldn't stand to be her friend, how could these other people even look at her without hating her as much as she hated herself?

So being alone it was, then. Being alone allowed for her to be surrounded by her own thoughts rather than those of other people. The more silence there was around Frances, the more she could think. And all she could hear was Philip's voice in her head. You were too selfish. You're so selfish. You threw away a friendship.

For the entire day, all she heard were Philip's thoughts. And those thoughts slowly became her own. I was too selfish. I'm so selfish. I threw away a friendship.

It didn't help that she could feel Philip's glare on her wherever she went. In the cafeteria (not that she stayed for long, she went outside and ate her lunch on the curb by herself), she could feel him glare at her when she walked by, she could hear his friends grow quiet when she went near them - not that she did intentionally. She'd steered clear of Philip for the whole day; she could practically feel the anger radiating off of him in hot, pulsing waves.

It was a different feeling altogether for Frances, though. Instead of the feeling of injustice that she normally felt when she was isolated, she felt completely deserving. Everything she was getting hit with now was because of something she'd done. Theodosia didn't leave Frances, Frances had pushed her away. Her dad wasn't abandoning her, she had lashed out at him.

You threw away a friendship.

She had been a dick, and she was just now realizing it.

And... maybe it wasn't just that. Maybe she was accepting it. She was letting it settle over her, weigh her down, because if she had been such a drag to other people, she deserved to be left alone in the dust.

And if she deserved it, so what if she felt miserable? So what if she hated herself and forced herself to watch as two of the only people who had ever offered her a chance - to be a friend, to be accepted, to be loved - walked away from her, holding hands? So what if the feeling in her heart felt physically painful, like it was being skewered through? Nobody knew anyway. And if they knew, they wouldn't care. She didn't deserve people caring.

So she stopped caring.

--

At home, Frances didn't want to face her father. She didn't know how to talk to him. She didn't know if she was still angry and she felt she risked sounding needy and pathetic if she asked him. Not that she didn't already feel pathetic. But she tried to be so strong for her father, and it seemed all she ended up doing was weakening what held them together. Love.

So instead of confrontation, Frances went straight to her room, straight to her bed. She flopped down, feeling just overwhelmingly exhausted and numbingly angry.

It took Frances a couple of seconds to realize it, but as she was thinking about confrontation, she remembered how confrontational her dad was, and how surprising it was that he wasn't around when she came home from school to talk to her about something, anything. Her day, her classes, anything.