#p:brielle

[brielle-cochran]

7:30 // ruby grant task part 2/2

7:00pm

Twenty Eight Atlantic was busy tonight. Brielle watched people kiss cheeks, touch mouths, lean in towards each other and shaking their hair away from their face so they could drink in more of each other. Parents wiped the mouths of their children with a napkin and font eyes, and they pushed the napkin away and made faces but Brielle saw the smile on their faces as the cloth rubbed them clean, the simple pleasure of being cared for not lost on even the smallest of beings. She couldn't help but stare as her long slender fingers fiddled with the edge of the napkin at the table, waiting to be placed on her lap - as soon as her parents arrived. She was early. She wanted to see them come in and swell with pride that they hadn't let her down. In the midst of her excitement and her joy at them even agreeing to come, Brielle couldn't ignore that this possibility existed, of them not showing up.

But they wouldn't. They had never agreed to come to anything Brielle had planned before, and they wouldn't let the first time be a disappointment. They wouldn't do that to her. Brielle smoothed down the skirt she wore and folded her hands, trying to be the picture of perfection, a lady with manners and poise - the girl her parents would want for a daughter. No giggles for today, the animated motions of her hands as she spoke, the laughter that burst from her chest without warning. Tonight, she was Brielle Cochran, a daughter to two successful adults. Someone who had been raised to carry herself with dignity and pride, and not the girl who didn't know how to act appropriately and went around like a bumblebee looking for the perfect flower.

Tonight, she would be a daughter.

7:20pm

Were her parents usually early to their plans? Were they right on time, or did they run late often? She didn't know her parents at all, she realized. Brielle's fingers drummed on her thigh as she waited, waited, waited. The clock wasted away but she refused to let go just yet. She wouldn't stop believing. What was she without her optimism?

7:30pm

Any time now.

7:50pm

... Right?

8:20pm

Brielle grabbed at her bag and took out her phone, looking through her texts and call history. Her phone wasn't on silent, and it was working just fine - so where were they? Where were the texts and the calls saying they were going to be late? Where were they? She bit down on her lip and threw her phone into the bag, telling the waiter - yet again - they were just running late and she would wait a few minutes more. He gave her a pitying look before nodding his head and she pretended not to see. They were just late. It was fine. They would get here eventually.

8:40pm

"Ma'am, I'm afraid you've been holding this table for over an hour and there are guests who are complaining."

It was the same damn waiter. She shut her eyes and tried not to cry, to quell the ache all over and to quiet the brokenness inside of her. She knew exactly what time it was, and she knew just how long she had waited; she didn't need the reminder of how the night had ended on such a twisted note. "I... I don't have a ride home," she finally whispered, opening her eyes and looking down at her lap, still void of the napkin she had been so excited to place over her skirt. The waiter cleared his throat uncomfortably and Brielle looked up at him, eyes wide and imploring, begging him for a solution he couldn't give. Bring me my parents, she wanted to beg. Bring me my mommy, my daddy. Bring me the family I should have. Bring me what's supposed to come so easily in life: a father who protects you, a mother who listens to you, people who love you unconditionally, teach you patiently, raise you carefully. Bring me what should be everyone's birthright.

"I will ask other employees if.. if they are getting off their shift soon, if you aren't... uncomfortable with that," the waiter tried.

Wrong answer; it wasn't what she wanted him to offer. But it would do. "I don't have any other option," she said honestly, smiling up at him. She hoped she had covered her sadness, but she could see from the waiter's eyes that she hadn't.

So what. She was tired of hiding her sadness. She was so goddamn tired of pretending. She was so, so tired. When an older woman came to take Brielle home, she let her, rising from her seat quietly and saying nothing on the way home, ignoring the curious and concerned glances the stranger gave her. It was so easy for strangers to care. It was so easy for people who didn't know her well to give a shit about her. But the people who knew her best, who had been with her since the very beginning, left her outside in the pouring rain. Did they know something the world couldn't see? Was she damaged? Broken?

She nodded her head in thanks to the woman who had brought her home, and didn't watch the car speed away. She didn't pay attention to Lollipop, who popped up on the couch beside Brielle and tried to cuddle for once. She curled up into a ball and refused to cry. She wouldn't.

All she wanted right now, was to sleep it all away. Sleeping Beauty had been a princess too, hadn't she? And her parents had gone to sleep with her. Her parents had been there when she woke up. So had a prince who had fought through hell to get to her without even knowing who she really was, only a name to believe in and hope for. What happened after she woke up, though? Did the prince realize she wasn't as wonderful as he had wanted to believe? Did her parents resent the girl for making all of them fall asleep? Did they decide nothing had made the princess special besides the sleep she had brought unto the entire kingdom?

Did she ever feel lonely, too?

[brielle-cochran]

what the heart wants // ruby grant task p.1

DATE: Monday, June 30th SETTING: The Cochran home INVOLVING: Brielle Cochran, Ruby Grant, Jonathan Cochran, Stella Cochran

Weren't they supposed to have a king and queen she could be proud of?

The Cochran palace was, more than anything, cold. Even in the sweltering heat and humidity that summer often brought to Massachusetts, even to Harwich, their house was always just a little chilly. The heat was always cranked up, and Brielle was always, always alone. No lady in waiting. No family, no king or queen or knight. Just her single dragon, Lollipop, who resembled more of the dragon from Barbie Rapunzel than Disney's Sleeping Beauty. And she was happy with that. Or perhaps she wasn't, but she had come to accept it. It would never stop her wilted heart from hoping, but at least she had come to terms with it and always wished from afar.

Wishing, see, was easy. Wishing was just looking up at a star, clasping your hands, squeezing your eyes shut and wanting as much as your heart and soul could. And for Brielle, the wanting was easy. Of course she wanted her parents' attention. Their love, their smile, their time, their effort. But actually making a reservation at Twenty Eight Atlantic, a popular and fancy seafood restaurant that she hoped her parents would like, was hard. She had no idea what food they liked, if they even liked going out to eat. Maybe a homecooked meal would be better, but she figured, maybe if they were out in public, they would be more willing to talk to her in public. Or something. At least put on some kind of show for those who were watching.

It was pathetic, to think that way, but she wasn't sure how else to think. The princess had never been taught how to be one. Thrust into royalty and unsure of what to do with it, she fumbled around searching for someone to rebel against and to learn from and respect and begrudgingly love. And perhaps not even that. Someone who she could expect at a certain time, rely on to be present, would have been enough for a princess completely alone.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like to make a reservation for... for three. Um, under the name Cochran. Brielle Cochran. Oh, the time and the date, of course. How about... this... Sunday? Dinner. Yeah, at 7:30. Is that okay? Yes, okay, thank you a lot. I mean, so much. I mean - okay, bye."

A princess was supposed to know the art of socializing, of charming, and that Brielle knew - but only with her peers. When it came to any adult interaction, her tongue froze and twisted into knots and her words came out backwards and dumped upside down. She didn't understand them. How could they have been teenagers? Had they decided at her age to not love their future children? Or was it the child that ruined all of their dreams and made them run away? Why did some adults, most adults, fall in love with their newborn babe, but others could leave theirs unnamed for weeks until a nurse recommended one?

She called her father next.

"Daddy? Yeah, it's me. Um, Brielle. Hi. Sorry to leave you a voicemail, I-I guess you're at work, but I made a reservation for Sunday dinner at Twenty Eight Atlantic. You and Mom will love it, I promise." Brielle rattled off the address and paused, unsure of what to say next. I love you? See you there? See you when you come home? She giggled nervously and rushed to finish speaking before she was cut off. "Uh, I'll see you... soon. Soon. I'll... remind you again later. Bye!"

Her call to her mother was a little smoother. At least this time, her mother picked up the phone.

"Yes, what is it, darling?" her mother said into the phone. Brielle automatically relaxed at the sound of her mother's voice. Stella Cochran was a woman of many talents, and her voice was one of them. Smooth and low, it was just the right combination of sultry and honey-sweet. She could listen to it for hours.

"Oh, hi, Mom! You don't have plans for Sunday dinner, do you?"

"I guess I don't now," Stella said with a laugh. Brielle was thrilled already, at how easygoing her mother was being and how she was laughing. That meant she was smiling. It was a step towards the right direction, and suddenly she was excited for Sunday. She should have made the dinner for Thursday, or Friday, sooner rather than later. She was about to say nevermind, hang up, and rearrange the reservation when she remembered those were work nights. And work nights were never good for family time - or so she had heard.

Brielle forced herself to relax but her next words still came out in a rush, her heart still beating fast with sudden excitement at the idea of this actually being a success. "Well, I made reservations at Twenty Eight Atlantic. Have you heard of it? I heard it's really yummy and fancy too and I think you and Daddy will like it!" 

"Slow down, dear. Alright, your father and I will be there. I have to go, now. I'll see you later."

"Bye Mommy! I'll give you the address-"

Her mother had hung up. Brielle's face fell for a moment, but it was right back up where it had been at the sound of her mother's laugh. Her mother had laughed. She put her phone away and ran to Lollipop, kissing the top of her puppy's head and burying her face into her fur. Maybe the princess wasn't so hopeless after all. Maybe instead of a prince riding to her on a great white stallion, the king and queen were returning from a long sea voyage instead. Perhaps the castle would still be too large for three people, but would for once be too small for all the warmth and love and laughter swirling within it.

Perhaps she should thank Ruby Grant after all. Everything was about to change.

[brielle-cochran]

can't be saved // self-para

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of physical abuse

She came home to an empty house.

"Mom? Dad?" Brielle shouted as she dropped her bag and binder on the living room table. The tremors of her voice bouncing off the walls and coming back at her, question marks unanswered. Nope, no one. She turned on the lights, floating through the halls, a ghost in her own home, and recognized a yellow Post-It note on the refrigerator. There's money for pizza on the counter. But $50 was more than enough for pizza - who did they think she was? She didn't have friends over; she rarely brought anyone to her house unless it was necessary. She didn't want anyone to know that little Brielle was not only clumsy, she was also pathetic, unloved by the people who had brought her into the world.

She didn't need a meal that night. She wasn't hungry. She had convinced one of the basketball players to take her out to dinner, and they had laughed, had flirted, talked. He had been so nice. He had paid for her even when she had the money, had asked her out on a second date. Brielle had accepted, with a pang of guilt. No matter how many dates they went on, she would never be his girlfriend. It wasn't him; he was great. Nice, tall, good looking, a cute smile and great jokes. He was a little oblivious to the darkness inside of her, though, and from this she knew that he had no darkness in him, either. And that scared her.

So congratulations, Ruby Grant. You were right, Bryce was too nice for her taste. She would ruin him if he let her, and she would ruin the basketball player, too. She could go on all the dates she wanted, but she would never make them hers. She would float until they lost interest, or gave up. It wasn't that Brielle liked bad boys, boys who hurt her, boys who gave her bruises and marks and hissed at her under their breaths and hovered over her dangerously. Sure, there was a part of her that thought they were sexy. Risky. Fun. And she couldn't deny the secret thrill that came with having her bruises noticed by her peers, fretted over by her friends, noticed by everyone.

She just didn't know what to do with anything good in her life. So she ran away from it.

Brielle sat at the dining table and began munching on pears, remembering how he had held her hand to 'keep her safe,' had walked her to the front door, had complimented her. She was so sweet, she was so cute, she was adorable, irresistible, beautiful, so happy, so bright. She had glowed under the praise, the attention, the flattery. And she couldn't wait to see him again, to have her self-worth reaffirmed by this basketball player who thought he knew Brielle. But she hated herself for it, too. She was so desperate. And that was why she wouldn't ever get into a relationship with a good boy; because good guys like good girls.

And she definitely wasn't a good girl.