Gretchen simply wasn't Gretchen without preparedness. A maroon duffel bag and an extra knapsack for her even more personal belongings were packed just two days before and she had nothing more to do now but to wait until the day she was going to travel with several of her friends. It was as if the day she'd agreed to this was the same time some weight had been lifted off her shoulders. The break from the consistent (and admittedly self-inflicted) hustle and bustle of life was going to do good for her, her seanmháthair had told her time and again. This time, she didn't take it negatively at all. It was as if for the first time in her entire life, she didn't hear her consistently nagging anymore. For the first time in her entire experience with her grandmother's oftentimes rude and brash honesty and perpetual nagging, Gretchen seemed to agree.
It was six thirty in the morning and she simply stared out the window, waiting for time to pass by with a surreal mix of patience and impatience. Her parents and grandmother were having breakfast downstairs in their usual manner, the mix of Gaeilge and English filling the dining area. She wanted to lay down on the ground and listen to their incoherent chatter, as if to see if they were talking about her or not. She pulled away, sweeping her straight black hair to one side, revealing part of her exposed cream skin. The only color that adorned her apparel that day was a chartreuse jacket easily recognizable by anyone who knew Eric Sheridan. It was one of the many things he'd left her when he'd left her... Forever. She clung onto the fabric and sniffed it. Each day, she never failed to spray his favorite cheap cologne on it, and each day she'd laugh at the memories they'd spent together when they'd first bought it. She winced in pain as the warmest of memories seemed to have driven a stake straight through her heart, then pulled it out only to stab again. Just before that last stab of hurt racked through her, she looked down at where a bump should've been obvious and she clutched to it. The next stab. The next sob threatening to just escape from her throat. She was careful not to cry; she didn't want to ruin her makeup.
She immediately rose and put her bags promptly on the bed to go have breakfast, and as soon as that first step she took on the stairs, a recognizable, hoarse female voice came from downstairs. "Gretchen, bricfeasta," said the voice. "It's going to get cold."
"Coming!" she replied promptly, rolling her eyes as she jogged down the stairs. She saw not three, but four people in the room. The other face was of her older brother, Eoin, who in her opinion ate like a swine as he tucked in a helping of scrambled eggs and toast. "Would you like me to get you a trough, Eoin? I'm sure there's something we can use in the tool shed," she sneered. She sat herself down next to him, much to her displeasure as that was the only available seat at the table that time.
"Gretchen, please. We're having a family meal," her father quickly admonished.
"Yes, dad," she said, almost as if what she'd really heard him say was "shut up".
The next ten minutes were spent eating, and interlaced with it were another fifteen minutes of chatter. Eoin started yet another crazy banter storm during breakfast and in between sips of orange juice, her parents had been talking to her about her course and how they'd seen her stellar performance, and her grandmother practically content with herself as she watched her granddaughter take her advice for once in her life. Her family was an organized chaos, but one that she loved nonetheless. Before she had time to realize it, she looked at the time and saw it was seven forty. "OH SHI-- I mean, sorry," she hesitated, seeing the nasty glances her parents and grandmother gave her. Immediately, she tugged on Eoin's shirt and pulled him upstairs. "Come on, brush your teeth, do whatever, you're sending me back to the college, I've got somewhere to go with friends."
"With friends?" Eoin laughed as he straightened himself out after she'd let go on the landing. "Are you serious? You've got friends? He-hey! Jesus, you take things too seriously! It's a miracle you're actually taking time to talk to people."
"Shut up and move. It's a fifteen minute drive and I have to be there by eight. EIGHT O' FUCKING CLOCK."
Arriving on campus with all her things prepared, even down to her shoes, she gave her brother a sneer in thanks, and him a laugh and a cheek kiss in return, which she reluctantly but was kind of glad to receive from him before she turned in the direction of the car. Seven fifty seven. She'd never been this late before. What made her so late eluded her completely; all that mattered to her now was that she was nearing the van and they weren't gone yet. Thank. God.
"Hi guys," she said, trying to be friendly this time around to try and change her image. It couldn't have come at a more early, awkward time. "Ready to go, then?"
It was six thirty in the morning and she simply stared out the window, waiting for time to pass by with a surreal mix of patience and impatience. Her parents and grandmother were having breakfast downstairs in their usual manner, the mix of Gaeilge and English filling the dining area. She wanted to lay down on the ground and listen to their incoherent chatter, as if to see if they were talking about her or not. She pulled away, sweeping her straight black hair to one side, revealing part of her exposed cream skin. The only color that adorned her apparel that day was a chartreuse jacket easily recognizable by anyone who knew Eric Sheridan. It was one of the many things he'd left her when he'd left her... Forever. She clung onto the fabric and sniffed it. Each day, she never failed to spray his favorite cheap cologne on it, and each day she'd laugh at the memories they'd spent together when they'd first bought it. She winced in pain as the warmest of memories seemed to have driven a stake straight through her heart, then pulled it out only to stab again. Just before that last stab of hurt racked through her, she looked down at where a bump should've been obvious and she clutched to it. The next stab. The next sob threatening to just escape from her throat. She was careful not to cry; she didn't want to ruin her makeup.
She immediately rose and put her bags promptly on the bed to go have breakfast, and as soon as that first step she took on the stairs, a recognizable, hoarse female voice came from downstairs. "Gretchen, bricfeasta," said the voice. "It's going to get cold."
"Coming!" she replied promptly, rolling her eyes as she jogged down the stairs. She saw not three, but four people in the room. The other face was of her older brother, Eoin, who in her opinion ate like a swine as he tucked in a helping of scrambled eggs and toast. "Would you like me to get you a trough, Eoin? I'm sure there's something we can use in the tool shed," she sneered. She sat herself down next to him, much to her displeasure as that was the only available seat at the table that time.
"Gretchen, please. We're having a family meal," her father quickly admonished.
"Yes, dad," she said, almost as if what she'd really heard him say was "shut up".
The next ten minutes were spent eating, and interlaced with it were another fifteen minutes of chatter. Eoin started yet another crazy banter storm during breakfast and in between sips of orange juice, her parents had been talking to her about her course and how they'd seen her stellar performance, and her grandmother practically content with herself as she watched her granddaughter take her advice for once in her life. Her family was an organized chaos, but one that she loved nonetheless. Before she had time to realize it, she looked at the time and saw it was seven forty. "OH SHI-- I mean, sorry," she hesitated, seeing the nasty glances her parents and grandmother gave her. Immediately, she tugged on Eoin's shirt and pulled him upstairs. "Come on, brush your teeth, do whatever, you're sending me back to the college, I've got somewhere to go with friends."
"With friends?" Eoin laughed as he straightened himself out after she'd let go on the landing. "Are you serious? You've got friends? He-hey! Jesus, you take things too seriously! It's a miracle you're actually taking time to talk to people."
"Shut up and move. It's a fifteen minute drive and I have to be there by eight. EIGHT O' FUCKING CLOCK."
Arriving on campus with all her things prepared, even down to her shoes, she gave her brother a sneer in thanks, and him a laugh and a cheek kiss in return, which she reluctantly but was kind of glad to receive from him before she turned in the direction of the car. Seven fifty seven. She'd never been this late before. What made her so late eluded her completely; all that mattered to her now was that she was nearing the van and they weren't gone yet. Thank. God.
"Hi guys," she said, trying to be friendly this time around to try and change her image. It couldn't have come at a more early, awkward time. "Ready to go, then?"