by Vivian Wood
“Serena,” her mother had breathed, “how dare you use such language?” She had ignored her and turned to Bryan instead.
And you, you filthy...” Some choice words entered her head, but for the sake of her mother's heart, she went with, “Swine! I've been planning our wedding, and that's what you've been doing?” She'd finally let it all out.
The screaming match had culminated in her mother fainting – yes, she was that dramatic – and her father escorting Bryan out the door with a warning to never darken their doorstep again. She threw herself up the stairs and into her bedroom.
She had mostly stayed locked in her bedroom for the next couple of days, her father and Katie checking on her occasionally. She hadn't spoken to her mother since the big blowout, but from the snippets of conversation she'd heard whenever she had snuck out of the bedroom to the kitchen for more tea or ice cream, her mother was furious she had broken off her engagement to “such an eligible man” and lamenting that she “couldn't have acted like a lady and forgiven his one indiscretion” in what she described as his “moment of weakness.”
Wow mom, so much for female empowerhernt. I don't know why they even let us vote, she had thought sarcastically upon hearing her mother's ranting. Again, those were treacherous thoughts that would never be formed into words. Serena had chided herself for not speaking up.
Three days after the fight, her mother had thrown open her bedroom door, pulled open her drawn curtains so violently she thought they might tear – though that would hardly have been a loss, as in her last redecorating fit she had somehow decided princess pink was an appropriate color for a twenty-one-year-old – ignored Serena's puffy eyes, and had perched graciously, but dramatically on the edge of her bed.
“Well Serena, since you seem to have some sort of plan for your future I don't know about since you threw the plan that I did know about out of the window with both hands, do you care to share what you intend on doing with yourself now?”
She had looked into her mother's narrowed grey eyes and was overcome with a sense of shame. Her mother had worked hard to find someone she considered suitable for her to date, and had been so supportive of the relationship – some nights she had stayed up late to talk with Serena about the problems she'd been having with Bryan, and had thrown herself into wedding planning these last six months.
“I'm so sorry, mom,” she muttered, tears she hadn't even realized she still had in her now threatening to spill. “I was just so hurt and shocked that I didn't consider the consequences of my actions until just now.” A familiar sense of overwhelming shame and guilt settled over Serena.
Her mother had been right, there had been a plan. One that her mother had carefully crafted and had been working on for Serena's entire life, and with one tantrum, Serena had thrown it all away. No wonder her mother was so angry at her. After all, men cheated, didn't they? She suddenly wondered if her mother had forgiven her father for any such indiscretions, but she quickly pushed that thought away. No, her father would never.
Nevertheless, she had heard countless stories from her friends about their fathers' adulterous affairs, and yet, most were still married. Perhaps it came with the territory, but how would she know? Bryan had been her first serious boyfriend, and her mother never spoke of such things.
She thought back to how she had felt the moment she had laid eyes on the scene playing out on Bryan's couch, and felt sure she had made the right decision. Plan be damned, what he had done to her was unforgivable.
“I'm sorry, mom. I just knew I could never be with Bryan after what I saw. I know how hard you worked, but I'll make it up you. I'll enroll in school. I'll work really hard, and I'll make you proud of me again,” she had vowed quietly.
It had all tumbled out so fast, and she had been so desperate to just say something that would make the situation better, that for the second time in three days, she had accidentally stumbled into a life-changing argument.
“School?” her mother had repeated coolly. “And what, exactly, would you be enrolling for, dear? You're four years out of high school, you've not applied for colleges anywhere, and you have no work experience other than helping out at your father's company.”
Her mother was right yet again. The plan for her life had never included college. Katie, her sister, who had somehow managed to escape from the rigid confines of their mother's master plan for her to an extent, had insisted on obtaining a degree before settling down. She had dug her heels in until their father had finally convinced their mother to let her do it.
Katie was a year younger than she was, and almost finished with her degree. She had also somehow managed to move into an off-campus apartment at some point, although there were rules, of course. Her sister was required to visit home at least once every few days, attend all family functions, and her mother still bought her clothes and groceries. Still, it was considerably more freedom than Serena had.
Serena, however, had started working for their father's company straight out of high school. She had started as an assistant to a low-level marketing manager at Woods Co, the family empire that had been started by her grandfather some sixty years ago. She was likely to stay in that position until she was married off and raising babies.
So she was safe, earned a reasonably comfortable salary, had become very good at her job and had settled into a routine, constantly under the watchful eyes of her mother.
Her job in the marketing department wasn't bad, as it meant that she got to work a little on ad campaigns for the company and occasionally even got to meet the lead designers. She was little more than a glorified secretary, really, but it wasn't all bad.
“I know, mom,” she said, “but I've been thinking about it a bit, and I'd really like to go to design school.”
She thought of all the sketches she'd drawn over the past few years, stowed safely under her bed and in her desk at the office, and was considering showing them to her mother, when she realized her mother was laughing at her. “Design school?” she scoffed. “That's not a plan, honey!”
And so it had become a fight. She spent the next two days trying in vain to convince her parents, but her dad had grown incredibly angry at the suggestion that she wanted to leave the company to go to school instead – not that he had ever shown any interest in her becoming more involved in the company.
He had, in fact, always complained about not having any sons to take over from him when he was ready to retire, but failed to acknowledge his daughters could do the job just as well. He seemed content in letting their mother choose appropriate husbands for them so maybe one day he would have a son-in-law he could groom to take over his empire.
Her mom may have laughed at first, but the more she realized Serena was serious, the more unreasonable she became. At some point during a particularly heated argument, Serena had pulled the sketches out from under her bed and hurled them at her parents' faces. Her mistake.
Her mother had gone completely pale, as though the fact she had sketched them at all was a betrayal, and merely evidence that she had been planning all along to renege on the carefully crafted plan her mother had for her life. Her father had just stared at her before accusing her of stealing his company's time if she had done them on the clock, and then walked out in a huff.
It was then that it had hit her. Instead of supporting her after having found out what Bryan had done, instead of helping her figure out what to do from here, they had laughed at her, ridiculed her, blamed her for Bryan's indiscretion, screamed at her, and essentially accused her of stealing money from them.
If she was ever going to pursue her passion and live her life, she had to get away from here. Away from her parents and their controlling ways and overprotectiveness.
It had taken everything in her, and she'd had to dig deep to find the one assertive bone in her body, but somehow she had done it. She left.
In that moment she had hurried upstairs, threw some clothes and toiletries into a travel bag, and on the way out to her car, had announc
ed to her stunned parents that she was leaving, and that she would find a way to do it on her own.
It wasn't until her car had screeched out of their driveway and she had driven around some that she had calmed down enough to realize what she had just done. She couldn't go back home, and she doubted she could go back to her job at the company. Her sister lived with three roommates in her apartment, so crashing there was impossible, and Mary was out of town for a few days. She belatedly realized she should have thought this through more carefully, but there was no going back now.
She had no place to live, no job, not much money saved up, and no idea how she was going to get herself out of this predicament.
She turned her car around and headed in the direction of Josh's apartment. Perhaps he would take pity on her yet again, and let her stay in his spare bedroom until Mary came home. At the very least she hoped he would be there so she could vent.
As it turned out, he was home. One look at her tearstained face, hunched shoulders and travel bag, and he had pulled her into his apartment without question.
It had also turned out that Josh hadn't been alone, but he had pulled her straight into the kitchen, poured another huge glass of chilled white wine for her, and instructed her to stay put for a second.
Emanating from his living room, she heard a shrill – clearly quite unhappy – female voice. “Seriously Josh, someone knocks on your door and now you're just throwing me out? In the middle of that?” the mystery woman had almost yelled.
Josh had replied in a voice so low she couldn't make out the words he said to the woman. But she could hear the woman's response clearly. “I don't give a fuck what happened. You just don't treat a woman like this, Josh. You just don't fucking kick her out seconds after you... Asshole!”
The woman had been well and truly yelling by then. Could she have possibly picked a worse time?
Again, Josh's reply had been too low for her to make out, but the woman's response didn't make it hard to guess what he had said.
“Don't ever contact me again, Josh. In fact, lose my number. Fuck you!” and then the door had slammed shut.
When Josh returned to the kitchen, she noticed, for the first time, his disheveled hair and the fact that the top button to his jeans was conspicuously undone, but he didn't say anything about it. She flushed.
“What happened, Ser?”
She had hated that nickname at first. After meeting as children, he had decided that the second half of her name was somehow redundant, and had taken to calling her “Ser” instead. Over the years she had grown fond of it, and as soon as she heard it, the whole saga of the past few days came pouring out of her mouth.
He immediately offered his second bedroom to her. He told her to make herself comfortable and just to relax, and that he was going to help her figure this out.
And that was how she came to wake up with her second wineover in the space of a week, and absolutely no idea what to do next.
5
It was one week later, and not much had changed. Josh had kindly offered for her to move in with him for now, saying she could pay whatever she could afford toward the rent. She had taken him up on the offer, not having anywhere else to go.
Without her parents' support, design school was out of the question until she could save up money for registration and maybe get a loan.
Katie had been sneaking her things from the house during her visits, so her small bedroom at Josh's was now very cluttered. She'd asked her sister to hold off on bringing more stuff.
She'd decided that she was definitely going to pursue a career in fashion. Her pride simply wouldn't allow her to back down after everything that had happened. The only way she could do that right now though, was by getting a job in retail. So she'd spent the past week applying for every position she could find and moping around the apartment.
She didn't have much, but she did have some savings, her personal expenses having been mostly a non-issue when she lived at home. So she'd insisted on paying Josh some money toward the rent, and had stocked up on groceries. She'd been conscientious enough to replace the two bottles of wine she'd had during her two mini-breakdowns.
She figured she would be okay for a while, as long as she stopped shopping, unlikely though that was, and spent her money wisely. Still, she didn't have enough saved up for design school, and that goal would be impossible if she didn't get a job.
Mary had arrived home from her trip yesterday, furious that Serena hadn't called her immediately and had made cheering her up her mission in life. For this week, anyway.
Last night she had come over and they had watched chick flicks, followed by bad action movies while eating popcorn, ice cream, and way too many other snacks until they'd fallen asleep on the couch.
Mary had phoned her a little while ago to tell her to get dressed up. “We're going dancing!” she had proclaimed triumphantly for some reason, and had flatout refused to take no for an answer.
“You're done sitting in that apartment, just waiting for life to happen to you. We're going to make it happen tonight. For tonight, your life is going to be drinking too many cocktails, shaking your gorgeous ass to some rockin' tunes, and hopefully making some bad decisions that we can regret tomorrow morning!” Mary's enthusiasm had been irrepressible, so she had agreed.
She wasn't that into clubbing, and it was definitely something she didn't do often, but Mary was right. She needed this, needed to get out of this funk.
Besides, she was out of snacks after her pity party with Mary last night, and she'd consumed enough sugar to last several lifetimes, so a repeat performance didn't sound too appealing. Also, if she didn't show up to the club to meet Mary and friends, she knew Mary would just come and literally drag her out of the apartment. So with a last look in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and hailed a cab for the club.
She spotted Mary and two of her girlfriends waiting in line to get in. She had met Mary's college friends once or twice before, and they had seemed nice enough. The noise coming from the inside of the club was deafening though. She wondered if they sold earplugs inside...
“I love this song! Don’t you love this song?” Mary exclaimed, and started doing a little dance right there on the sidewalk.
“Uhm, who sings it again?” She chose the safe option; she was pretty sure she hadn't heard it before, and from what she could hear right now, she didn't love it.
All three girls around her looked at her like she had suddenly sprouted a pair of horns. She considered subtly rubbing her forehead to check before they yelled, “Misery, dude!” almost in unison.
“Right, of course.” She still had no idea who they were talking about. She thought maybe she'd heard the name mentioned on the radio before, but this kind of music was definitely not what was listened to in her parents' house.
Classical, yes. On rare occasions, pop. But rock? If that's even what this was, absolutely not.
They chatted a bit before the blonde one – Ashley, she thought – squealed “there he is” and dragged them to the front of the line. A new bouncer had taken up position at the door and seemed to recognize her, unclipping the rope for them as they moved closer, ushering them through.
“Her brother's a bartender here!” Mary yelled over her shoulder to Serena as they entered the din of the club, her voice already almost completely drowned out by the deafening music.
“She must've asked him to ask the bouncer to let us in!” she yelled as she threw her hands over her head and started dancing her way toward the bar.
They'd only been here a few minutes, but Serena really hoped she could buy earplugs somewhere in the club. Although she was pretty sure she'd be deaf in no time, and then it wouldn't matter anymore.
Ashley was already at the bar, and grabbed them each a beer before pulling them out on to the crowded dance floor. At first, Serena felt a little awkward, but she soon lost herself in the music and electric atmosphere and actually started to enjoy herself. She closed her eyes and just let her body move
the way it wanted to, her long dark hair swinging across her back.
Time slowed for her, measured in beers. She drank slower than the other girls, but it felt like only seconds had passed as her eyes snapped open when Ashley pulled her third beer from her hand, a wild look in her eyes.
“Guys!” She could barely hear Ashley over the music, but managed to sort of make out what she was saying as she held out a piece of paper with an address written on it in her hand. “We've been flagged for a fucking mystery party!” The other girls looked like they might faint.
She had no idea what a “mystery party” was, but she followed them out of the club anyway. No way was she staying behind by herself in there.
Her ears were ringing as they spilled out of the club onto the curb, although she was quite sure she'd sustained mild hearing damage. She figured she should probably resign herself to the fact that they might never stop ringing, judging by the feel of things.
“What's a mystery party?” she asked Mary in what she hoped was a quiet voice.
Mary knew her parents and how overprotective they were, so she hoped Mary wouldn't judge her for her ignorance. She was worried about what the other girls might think, since they didn't know her nearly as well, but they were so busy celebrating that she doubted they'd heard her question, even though her voice hadn't been as quiet as she'd intended.
“Not a mystery party, a Misery party! Like the band, Misery? The one we were talking about earlier, the one whose songs we were dancing to inside? Biggest rock band on the planet right now? Any of this ringing a bell?”
It didn't, but she wasn't about to let Mary know that.
She thought Mary would understand that she wouldn't know what a mystery party was, but she doubted that Mary would understand not being familiar with Misery or why they were going to their party. “Oh, wow! Awesome!” she exclaimed, hoping that was the appropriate response. She piled into the cab Ashley had hailed.
