#rbprompt2

[lucille-mather]

Looking Forward: A Lifetime of Happiness (Sort of)

Robert and Lucille get married in 1953 at an outdoor wedding in front of a few friends and whatever family (mainly distant) they have left. Lucille couldn't be happier being married to Robert though she knows life with him won't be easy. 

She deals with his episodes frequently but she learns to deal with it because she loves him more than anything and would do anything for him. Two months after the wedding she finds out she's pregnant and she couldn't be more ecstatic. When the baby comes, they name her Ginger Rose Winters. 

Life is going great until one day she comes home to find that Robert is drinking more heavily than usual. While she was pregnant, he did really well but once the baby was born she noticed changes in his patterns and began to worry. In 1954 they relocate to the east coast hoping to get away from the pain that Los Angeles holds against them. Lucille finds out she is pregnant again and when the baby is born, they name him Maxwell Robert Winters. 

Lucille gets a job at a small business and raising two kids practically by herself begins to take a toll on her. She tries to hang in there for the children and she wants to support and help Robert but things get too difficult and one morning, she takes the kids and heads to the midwest. It wasn't what she wanted. God, it was the last thing she wanted but she wanted the best life possible for her children. 

She never meets any other men because she still loves Robert and once the kids are old enough, she tells them their father died in a car accident because she thinks it easier than telling them the truth. 

But when they find out that he's still alive they begin to resent her and she doesn't talk to them for several years. 

She dies alone in her home at the age of 75. 

[missrosemoreno]

Child's Play || Birthday Prompt

Rose closed her eyes as her mother tugged at her hair, putting it into braids, pulling apart the knots and tangles that always appeared, the girl playing far too hard with her brothers. She always got tangles in her hair, but her mom seemed to have a magic touch, smoothing it out, without hurting Rose for a moment. Today was a special today. Rose could tell by the amount of attention that her mother was putting into each braid she made in Rose's hair. She hummed one of the lullabies that Rose adored, and the little girl closed her eyes, relaxing into the touch of her mother.

"What day, Momma?" Rose mumbled, feeling a bit sleepy, after such a long day of playing.

"It's your birthday, sweet. I thought I told you last night." She said with a laugh, moving her hands while she spoke. "Remember, I told you, you're eight years old now." She said. Rose shrugged. She didn't care much about birthdays. Days came and went, one after another, each other a day of work, or of play for Rose. The only day it changed was Sunday, when the family took time to go the rickety little church, that was frequented by other laborers, most of them immigrants like her mismatched family. A few always gave Rose and her family sharp looks. Not many could accept Rose's father marrying a black woman. But most respected Mr. Monroe, many liked him and his family, knowing that he stood up for his community. Or as much as he could, while still keeping his job and his family safe and fed.

"I don't want to be eight." Rose responded, crossing her little arm. "I want to be seven again." She didn't like the idea of growing up. Each time one of Rose's brothers got older, they stopped playing with her. They went off to work, to sweat in the fields, working until the sun went down, getting home well after Rose went to sleep. She didn't like the way each them started to get that haunted look in their eyes, the tired drag of their feet as they rose, before the sun, to go back to the fields. It hurt to watch them leave her. She didn't want to join them, be chained to a life of labor and monotony. She wanted to be a child, free to laugh and play every day.

"Oh, my dear. You enjoy your childhood while you can. Too soon you shall be a mother yourself, having the same talk with your daughter." Rose's mother said, chuckling again. Rose shook her head, spoiling her mother's work, and wiggled from her grasp, not liking the conversation anymore.

"No!" Rose exclaimed, feeling the room, wanting to play more, wanting to run free. "I'm not eight! I'm not eight!" She cried out, chanting it as she found her younger brother, to rope him into some pretend game.

Rose's birthday culminated in a messy cake, that could barely be considered a dessert. It was dry, from their lack of milk and butter. They couldn't get much out here. But it was still a cake. Rose's father and brothers had stumbled in, right in time to sing a halfhearted round of "Happy Birthday" before they all went their respective beds. Rose's father barely gave her a kiss on the head, before he had disappeared too, leaving Rose alone with a hard cake, and her mother. She left her piece uneaten, and went to bed, her tiny little thing in the corner of their home, which she shared with her little brother. She curled close to him, wishing desperately she could be three again, like him. She fell asleep with tears on her round cheeks, feeling lost and scared, so scared of the future.