As I stood outside the gates, confusion overwhelmed me. Boxes, a moving van- what was happening? I saw my mom and went over to her, slowly. What to say?
"Hey, mom." I guess that.
"Gabrielle?!" She gasped, her eyes full of pain.
"What's going on?"
"Wha-"
"We tried. You didn't want us."
"I was a dumb teenager....I-"
"I love you. Francois and I have decided to give you the property and home. Sell it, remodel, whatever. Antoinette's changed her last name to Bonaparle, so we'd all have the same last name....well....Gabrielle, I love you." Her voice filled with emotion. "But I don't know if you do." She climbed into a truck and drove away.
The movers finished packing boxes and left, one by one. Soon it was dark and I was crying on the front lawn.
"G? Madame G?"
"Jason...my parents moved to England."
"G..." He hugged me and helped me stand.
"Let's go inside...Jason, do you wanna mob here? My parents gave me the property...."
"Sure." He whispered. "Of course. We walked inside. The rooms where bear. A TV left in the losing room, the counters and cabinets in the kitchen, my basement room was left untouched. Upstairs, my parents room had nothing. What use to be a gorgeous room was now empty. The study empty, Antoinette's room had nothing. The house felt hollow. Finally, I walked down to me old room.
"No!" I gasped. "No, no…" They'd taken my old room, along with the hall way and turned it into a laboratory. This wasn't even my room any ore; I was surprised they left the basement untouched, but it still stung. They replace it. Replaced me.
"Wha-oh."
"They replace me!" Look how easily they replaced me!"
"They didn't replace you."
"But-"
"Gabrielle, maybe it was too painful for them. They had to move on, because of the hole you ripped in their hearts. They love you, and you ran away."
"I love you....they...I love my family." I suddenly realized it.
"I was going to wait, but now seems as good a time as any other."
"What, Jason?"
"Gabrielle Janes, Madame G, G. I've known you for two years. We've dated for one. You make my life happier and I cherish every moment."
"What's going on?"
"G....I love you. More then anything I've ever loved before."
"I love you, too. Seriously what's-"
"G. I know it's rushed, I know we're only seventeen, I know I don't have a ring but-"
"Ring? Wait-oh my gawsh!" Realization hit me.
"G, will you marry me?"
"Yes! Yes!" I screamed, hugging him.
"When you turn eighteen....I don't have a ring, but I'll work for one. G, I've been thinking since that day....I love you. I don't want to have to postpone all the happy moments. I love you and that's all I really know."
"Yes, yes, yes!" I gasped; in shock.
"He PROPOSED
?"
?"
"Yes..." I felt a little piece of me become overwhelmed with sadness.
"Did you marry him?"
"We never got the chance...." I whispered, nearly crying.
----
Nothing had changed in the past few months, after his proposal. We don't know why the hell we where getting married. Legal benefits? We where poor and didn't have any friends that weren't hiding from drug lords or some other sugar in the WPP or family that wasn't dead or who'd left, leaving no address or wphone number or email address, to live in some foreign and scarf down bangers and mash, crumpets, and tea in little China cups. We couldn't afford a ceremony; who would attend? We decided on going to the court house, me in a black dress, him in a tux. We could pretend like life wasn't fudged up for a few minutes, make out in front of a judge and witness, end up doing it in the judge's chambers, run like hell from security, and go back to life.
It was happy, in a sugary way. Until New Year's. Everything began falling together, and apart that day. There was nothing I could do to keep it from falling down, around my ears. Nothing.
I was singing in my PJs, spinning around the living room. School was out for break, Jason was at work. Eleven a.m. In my PJs. This was living. This was happiness. I had the home; it was legally mine plus buckets of cash raining down on me once I turned eighteen. I had sung at a holiday concert for the humane society, and I'd been tipped generously; I wouldn't have to work until New Year's Eve, which was tonight, starting at ten.
"La, la, la." I hummed. "Da, dee, da, la, la." I was attempting to write my own song, for the party. While singing on a street corner in front of a party wear house, a frazzled lady with glasses, a tight bun, and pants suit passed by, gabbing on a cell.
"Uh, are you talking to me?"
"Duh, guitar girl. Here." She threw a fifty at my feet.
"Thanks!"
"Boss' money. She won't miss it."
"Thanks."
"Do you preform? Because I need something new, something fresh for the New Year's Eve party tomorrow."
"Um, like at venues? I do, I defiantly do."
"Great. Look, honey, I work for stars so famous, you don't even know they exist. I need something cool. The band quit. Ya got an agent?"
"No....I'm independent."
"Fabulous. You got a name?"
"Gabrielle."
"Gabrielle? Hmm....can I sell it? You got anythin' better? A stage name?"
"Madame G."
"I like it. You French?"
"Half."
"Perfect. I can sell the rising French beauty who'll be singing her brand new, first single ever at the party. I can work with that. How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Not legal yet....when do you turn eighteen?"
"Five months."
"We can work with that. Avoid the vodka and don't sleep with the boss' fiancé, boyfriend, or stylist, oh, or butler, best friend, and ex-hubbie and we're good."
"I'm engaged."
"Honey, you're a kid. You are not engaged. You're the cute rebel who every high school guy wants. That's what I'm selling to the boss. Good?"
"Oui."
"Perfect. Now, if you do want to play around, I suggest a scotch and the cutie twenty-one year old male model turned corporate giant. Money, looks, and he really can't hold his liquor. He won't even remember you. Unless, you're into the whole gal thing. Try wine and the waitress. With the black dyed orange hair and pierced n-"
"I'm not-"
"Just, wear something cute. Be there by ten." Se scribbled an address on a gum wrapper and handed it to me. "I have the BEST thing ever!" We was back on her cell phone. "The Jo-no, no. Better. Please, we aren't in elementary school. You'll love it. Half French, Goth-punk, teenager. She's got the voice-yes, she's ready. I figured half-a third? Hmm...we could do half up front, and half later." She turned to me. "A third the band got, with half for your outfit and half tomorrow night. If you puke on the rug, we'll take that half and ruin your career. You get," She scribbled a number with more zeros than my last name and a huge one in front."
"I'll take it!"
"Good."
No back at home, struggling to come up with a song. La la la. "That's it!" I stopped dancing and ran to my basement room, sitting on the bed with a notebook and guitar.
"-oung boy, estimated to in between sixteen and twenty, was found dead this morning. According to authorities, he's been dead approximately twelve hours. I turned my attention to the middle aged news anchor who was talking about a murder. It wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't common either. "The victim has been identified. As-" My heart stopped. Jason's limp, bloodied body was in my gigantic television screen. Jason. Dead? No. No. This is a prank. A joke. No. No. "Police are saying that the victim was out late last
night and was killed in a gang shoot out. They warn Bridgeport citizens to stay away from the shipping ports and loading docks, a common gang hang out during the night. This is Bridgeport News, with this special live report. Good afternoon and if you have any information regarding the victim, Jason, a seventeen year old senior call the police at," Jason. Dead? No. No. I began crying and grabbed my cell phone.
"Hello? Yes-es-s it's Madame G. I-I ha-ave to can-ce-cel. I know it-t's las-t-t min-ute bu-t I hav-v-e family issues. I understand. Really?" She hung up. I'd been offered a deal to publish my single.
La, la, oh, di, da
Can't keep telling me baby
Cause I love ya
It's time that we finally
Decide to get our own lives
Mine's sitting on the porch
Wonderin' where I went
You stole me away from who-o-o I am-m-m
Baby I keeping buying you
And I can't keep myself from saying that I'm busy lovin' you
I don't love ya baby
Oh, la di da ah hey-ey-ey
So go away, if I say-ay-ay
Mayb-ay-ay I won't let the needle in
To keep the pain away from no end
Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start
Singing songs and lovin' the enemy
You hypnotize me, can't I say
Now as you melt away into my veins
Pulsing through my brains
Why-y-y-y can't you see
I'm an addict through and through
Met and stopped and stared
Not believing what needle just pierced our skin
Oh baby, hey-ey-ey can't we just stay away
But I keep pulling and you're pushing and now we're sitting stuck without the perfection
I don't love ya baby
Oh, la di da ah hey-ey-ey
So go away, if I say-ay-ay
Mayb-ay-ay we could try again
Not that it'll keep us from fallin' back to the start
Kiss me slowly
As I slip away to another world
Where we can love each other
Without poisoning our lives
But we can't stop, cause it's toxic
And I'm addicted
I just need a last line, to finish the song. I remembered something my mother told me once, about her writing. "Rebellious sells. People love you, people hate. They talk and scream. When they don't know what you really mean, they need more and they need a definate answer. They make one up and argue how they're right. It makes you popular and that, on its own, is priceless." This is what I wanted. Something daring to make me popular; give me fame. Something people disliked on principal and something over thought. I turned on the television and sat on the couch, thinking.
night and was killed in a gang shoot out. They warn Bridgeport citizens to stay away from the shipping ports and loading docks, a common gang hang out during the night. This is Bridgeport News, with this special live report. Good afternoon and if you have any information regarding the victim, Jason, a seventeen year old senior call the police at," Jason. Dead? No. No. I began crying and grabbed my cell phone.
Kiss me slowly
As I slip into another world
Where we can love each other
Without poisoning our lives
But we can't stop, cause its toxic
And I'm addicted
Now that you're gone
Now that you're gone
I love you more than an-n-ny-thang
But I can't let myself give in
Now that you're gone
I have to mo-oo-oo-ve right on
Without you
Without y-o-o-ou-u
People could say it's about drugs. A really bad relationship that you can't get out of. A really good one that steals your personality away. Depression. Grief. Emotions that swallow you whole. Anger. It's confusion and not knowing how to feel, but knowing you're suppose to feel something. Not nothing. I felt empty inside; hollow. I felt something. And it resembled pushing my emotions away and hiding them. I'd see a thearipist for a few months, but recover later. I'd release my debut single. I'd recover. But right now, I felt nothing. And it was horrible.
That is awful that Jason died. =( Poor Gabrielle. So sad. Makes for a good story though. =D
ReplyDeleteIt (sadly) does. :)
Delete