Gwen Havers
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Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Nov 4, 2006 11:58:44 GMT -5
Well, she had gone off Canadians for a while, but maybe she's gotten over it since 2003. Thanks for the positive feedback, guys!
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Post by ana on Nov 6, 2006 9:28:44 GMT -5
She let her hands slide down his chest and pressed herself close to him. “Besides, I’m currently wearing one of your white dress shirts; ergo, I will win any and all arguments by default.” She smiled slyly.
He looked down at her thoughtfully, then finally shook his head in defeat. “Oh, curse you and your feminine wiles.”
“You love it,” she purred, giving him a quick kiss on the lips and then returning to her perch on the barstool.That's my girl! Like you ever needed tips from me ;D I've only just got around to reading these flashbacks, but I'm glad I finally got my ass in gear to do it. They are, as always, delightful. Gwen is one of my favourite characters and I'm currently writing to the makers of Lost asking if they'll hire Rachel Weisz as a trolley dolly.
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Nov 6, 2006 9:41:37 GMT -5
Haha! Well, she might be busy with the baby and her non-marriage to Darren Aronofsky. But then again, if Nikki and Paulo can pop up out of nowhere... Oh, ask Damon Lindelof if I can have a job as a writer's assistant while you're at it. I like Star Wars, if that helps! Thanks so much, babe! Sorry you're having to spend your vacation time reading flashbacks, but I'm thrilled to hear you're enjoying my efforts.
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Post by ana on Nov 6, 2006 18:16:26 GMT -5
Ah, that's what lazy days off are for
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Post by Hollywood Heidi on Nov 10, 2006 2:08:09 GMT -5
Yay! Your flashbacks make me laugh so hard! Yah, Nathan was a jerk at times, but it seems Gwen has her issues as well though, so you can't entirely blame him for the relationship ending on a sour note. *ducks objects being thrown at me* I still love you though, Gwen, my fellow commitment-phobe! ;D
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Dec 6, 2006 23:52:19 GMT -5
No worries, Heidi. And no thrown objects either. I was trying to make it clear that Gwen wasn't entirely blameless for the relationship not working out. She has plenty of issues of her own, which we'll get into later... A couple of players for the next round of flashbacks: Name: Francesca “Fran” Marbury Age: 29 Appearance:Occupation: Freelance writer Residence: London, England Name: Nicholas “Nick” Marbury, husband to Fran and childhood friend of Gwen Age: 30 Appearance: Occupation: Anesthesiologist; also may have done some work with a certain Irish doctor in the recent past Residence: London, England
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Dec 7, 2006 16:50:45 GMT -5
***FLASHBACK 1 OF 4***
May 2004 London, England
The laughter was dying down around the Marbury table at their home in Croydon. “Are you sure you don’t want dessert?” Fran inquired, setting coffee cups in front of Gwen and Nick. “Nothing fancy, but we might have some Jaffa cakes in the cupboard.”
Gwen shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine. And thank you very much for dinner; your cooking has greatly improved since the last time I saw you.”
“Yeah, well, I have to cook for two now,” Fran explained, focusing on wiping the carrots from baby Declan’s chin as he bounced happily in his highchair.
“I tried to schedule a tutorial with Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay, but she wouldn’t have it,” Nick said wearily. “Apparently, too much use of the ‘f’ word. Or was it garlic?”
“Both,” Fran replied while removing her son from his chair and transferring him to her lap. Then she turned her attention back to Gwen. “It’s been so good catching up with you, though. We should get together again. How long are you in town for?”
“Just through the weekend,” Gwen answered, sipping her coffee. “I have to fly back on Sunday.”
“Not stopping in to see the folks?” Nick inquired.
“Do you really have to ask?”
Fran’s face lit up with an idea. “We should go shopping. Or go to quiz night at the pub. Give me some quality adult time away from the baby.”
“You’re assuming Gwen can actually carry on an adult conversation,” Nick remarked. “One that doesn’t involve the words ‘tray table’ or pointing out the emergency exits.”
She glanced sidelong at him, making it a point to look only at Fran. “Remind me again why you married him?”
“Hey, he’s your friend; you vouched for him,” Fran stated. “Told me he was brilliant and funny and thoughtful…”
“I was drunk at the time, surely,” Gwen countered. “And I’m almost positive that I warned you against procreating with him.” She reached her hand out to Declan, who attempted grasping at her fingers with his tiny hand.
“Yeah, you did,” Fran nodded. “Sent up a flare and everything. And I even doubled up on my birth control just to make sure.”
“I’m sitting right here!” Nick whined in a wounded tone.
Gwen chose to ignore him. “I see little Declan has his father’s nose. Unfortunately for him.”
“Do you want to hold him?” Fran offered.
“No,” she said quickly. “No, no. You don’t even trust me with your china, Fran. There’s no way I could handle a miniature human being.”
“Oh, it’ll be fine; children are resilient,” Fran insisted, handing the baby over to Gwen. “Just make sure you support his head.”
Gwen felt a little panicked, holding the child with stiff arms made anxious by something so unfamiliar. Were you supposed to rock them, talk to them, sing to them? She’d never even been allowed to hold her younger sister. What was she supposed to do? A few fussy noises in protest of being moved, and Declan finally settled in. His large blue eyes looked up at her and he seemed to smile.
“Hi,” she felt herself whispering. “Hi there, Dec.” She looked up at Fran. “Oh, I just remembered I left the gift bag by the door. Does he like bears?”
“I don’t think he’s formed an opinion on them yet.”
“Well, he should like polar bears, because they’re cool,” Gwen said, letting the baby get a good grip on her finger.
“No pun intended,” Nick remarked.
Fran relaxed into her chair. “So when are you going to have one of your own?”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s in the cards.”
“Gwen would have to stay with someone for more than a month for that to happen,” Nick declared.
“Says the guy who had a different girl for every week of school,” Gwen shot back. “You made me keep track. ‘Who am I dating this week, Gwen? Ah, yes, Margaret…’”
“Don’t listen to her, dear,” Nick assured Fran. “She’s drunk again.”
“What about that architect chap?” Fran asked.
“Nathan? Oh, that’s ancient history.”
“What happened?”
“Well, apparently I’m a commitment-phobe,” Gwen answered, attempting to rock Declan as she’d seen Fran do earlier.
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Nick groaned.
“Hmm, well, does Declan know what Daddy got up to at the Fringe Festival right before his O-levels?” Gwen asked in a sing-song voice.
“And Auntie Gwen should preface that amusing anecdote with the fact that she was buying the pints,” Nick reminded her.
“Ugh, worst hangover of my entire life. I believe that was when we started referring to Guinness as the ‘black death’.”
“It wasn’t the Guinness’ fault,” Nick protested. “And give me back my child before you turn him off stout forever.” He held out his hands and she passed the baby to him.
“Anyway, I’m traveling so much these days, it’s tough to meet anyone,” Gwen explained.
“Well, your sister’s wedding is coming up,” Fran said. “Always a good place to meet people.”
“Not my kind of people,” Gwen sighed. “And I’m going under protest; I certainly don’t expect to meet Mr. Right.”
“Look, I know Helena can be annoying,” Nick said, “but she is family. And isn’t it sort of customary for the bridesmaids to actually be at the ceremony?”
“Ah, but I’m not one of the bridesmaids.”
“What?!” Fran and Nick cried in unison. Even Declan let out a brief, insulted cough.
“Eight attendants in Helena’s wedding party, not including me.”
“Bloody cheek,” Nick said.
“Not in front of the baby, dear,” Fran chided him.
“Sorry.”
“It’s just as well,” Gwen said dismissively. “I can wear what I want, and I don’t have to stand in front of everyone and pretend to be happy for her.”
“But you are happy for her?” Fran asked.
“Yeah, I suppose,” Gwen shrugged. “She’s marrying well. That’s all Mum expected from either of us.”
“It’s nice work if you can get it,” Fran said, smiling across at her husband. “But I fear our Gwendolyn is a modern woman, finding fulfillment in having her own home and career and life not hindered by a significant other.”
“I fear our Gwendolyn is just not the marrying type,” Nick clarified. Declan made a happy cooing sound. “See, even the boy agrees with me.”
Suddenly, Gwen’s cellphone began ringing. “Sorry, sorry,” she apologized, grabbing her purse and shuffling through it. “I’ll take it in the study.”
She walked off into the other room, pushed a button and held the phone to her ear. “Hello?...Dad?...Dad, what’s wrong? I can hardly hear you…What?...What do you mean there’s been an accident?...Well, yeah, I’m here in town, but…Yeah, of course, I’ll be right there.”
She returned to the kitchen in a daze. Seeing her expression, Fran immediately became concerned. “Good lord, Gwen, what’s the matter?”
“Um, that was my dad. He…he said Julian’s been in an accident. They don’t, um…they don’t know how bad yet. He’s in surgery right now at…at Lewisham Hospital. I don’t even know where that is.” She tried to pull herself together and gather her things. “I should go. Maybe I can call a cab…”
“Nonsense. Nick will drive you,” Fran insisted. “You know where it is, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I went to a seminar there a few weeks ago,” he said, handing Declan back to his mother.
“I don’t want to be a bother,” Gwen said.
“You’re not; I’d be glad to take you,” he assured her. “Get your things, let’s go.”
“Thank you. Bye, Fran.” She stopped to hug her goodbye.
“Call me as soon as you know something.”
“I will.”
Nick ushered her to the front door. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he continued. “How many spills has your brother taken on that bike?”
“Several.”
“See? No worries.”
“Right, no worries,” she repeated, nodding slowly.
***END FLASHBACK***
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Gwen Havers
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Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Dec 19, 2006 15:55:52 GMT -5
***FLASHBACK 2 OF 4***
Lewisham Hospital London, England
Gwen was walking with Nick down the hospital hallway when she stopped short, frozen with fear. “Are they here?”
“What?”
“Just lean around the corner and tell me if you see my parents.”
He rolled his eyes. “My God, you need a better therapist,” he muttered, but did as he was told. “Ah, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Havers are in the house.”
“How do they look?”
“Bored and aristocratic. Same as usual.”
“Nick!”
“Alright, alright. They look worried. Same as you. You sure you want to do this solo? ‘Cause I’m here for back-up if you need me.”
She inhaled, summoning strength. “No, no. I’ll be fine. Go be with your wife and son,” she said, smiling up at her redheaded friend, now all married and settled—so surprisingly grown-up. “He’s a really cute kid, Nick.”
“Yeah, he takes after his mother,” he nodded. “Listen, these are excellent doctors here. They’ll take good care of Julian.”
“I know, I know.”
“Take care, G,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “And don’t leave the country without buying me a drink.”
“I won’t.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Good. Now go and face the firing squad,” he advised, turning her around by the shoulders and pushing her toward the waiting room.
“Bye!” she called over her shoulder.
“Vaya con Dios!” he called back.
She breathed in deeply and proceeded forward. “Hi, Mum. Dad,” she greeted.
Her father threw his arms around her in a tight embrace. “Sweetie, I’m so glad you’re here,” he beamed. “When did you get in? How was the flight? Where are you staying?”
“The prodigal daughter returns,” her mother said icily from her chair.
Gwen cut a glance at her mother and turned her attention back to her father. “I got in yesterday, the flight was fine, and I’m staying with Liz and Di,” she replied, trying to cover all his questions. “Has there been any word from the doctors yet?”
“We’re still in the dark,” Edward answered with a weary shrug.
“This place is full of incompetents. He would have been better off at Charing Cross,” Carolyn declared.
“This was the closest place they could transport him for care after the accident,” Edward patiently explained.
“What accident?” Gwen asked. “Tell me what happened.”
Her father pondered before attempting to relay the information they had so far. “Apparently a car pulled out in front of him. He went over the handlebars, hit the ground pretty hard. Thankfully he was wearing his helmet, so they’re not too worried about brain damage. But…there are a lot of bone fractures. He was unconscious when they brought him in and losing blood fast—“
“Well, if he needs a transfusion, we’re the same blood type,” Gwen said quickly.
“And I’m sure the doctors are aware of that. Right now, they’re performing surgery to deal with the collapsed lung and the femur fracture. Once he’s stabilized, they’ll let us see him.” He placed his hands reassuringly on Gwen’s shoulders. “We just have to wait and think positive, okay?”
Gwen swallowed hard, attempting to quell her anxiety, and nodded up at him.
“The roads were slick from the rain. He should have known better than to be riding that thing in this weather,” Carolyn muttered.
“Where’s Helena?” Gwen asked, ignoring her mother's remark as was her habit.
“She was at a conference up in Edinburgh,” Edward replied. “She’s catching the train down as soon as she can.”
“Well, what about Sharon? Has anyone called her?”
“Honestly, we hadn’t had time to think about it.”
“It’s pointless, anyway. They’ll only allow immediate family in after the surgery,” Carolyn said.
“She’s his girlfriend, Mum. I think she should know.”
“We’ll get in touch with her when we know something, okay?” Edward suggested calmly.
“Were you planning to drop by the house?” Carolyn continued, addressing Gwen coldly. “Grace us with your presence? Or were you too busy sharing dinners and laughs with your friends in the city?”
“Carolyn, don’t start--” Edward sighed.
“I’m just curious as to whether it takes a life-threatening accident to prompt my own daughter to make time for me…”
“Mum!” Gwen snapped.
“Perhaps I’ll go and smash the Jaguar into a utility pole. Maybe then I can get an audience with Her Majesty—“
“Carrie!” Edward admonished her in a loud whisper. “This is not the time.”
Gwen sighed resignedly. “I was having dinner with Nicholas and Francesca tonight, and then I was going to come and see you on Saturday,” she lied. “Right, Dad? I’m sure your assistant gave you the message.”
“Right, yes. She was coming on Saturday. I meant to tell you.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re telling me now,” Carolyn chided with a roll of her eyes. “Like I can pull together a menu in two days.”
“Mum, I don’t need a sodding menu,” Gwen groaned, taking a seat beside her. “My brother…your son has been through a horrible ordeal. He’s still going through it. So can we just focus on that right now? Please?”
“Exactly,” Edward agreed. “Can we stop bothering this waiting room full of people who are equally concerned about their loved ones with our petty differences, and act like a normal functional family? Just for a few hours?”
“Fine by me,” Gwen said. “Mum?”
“Fine,” she said softly.
And then they sat in a strained silence, waiting.
***END FLASHBACK***
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Gwen Havers
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Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Jan 5, 2007 14:56:17 GMT -5
***FLASHBACK 3 OF 4***
Lewisham Hospital London, England
As Gwen entered room 1642, she heard her brother before she saw him. The sustained beep of the heart monitor, the subdued wheeze of the respirator. She tried not to show her concern at seeing him covered in bandages and plaster and all manner of mysterious medical equipment.
Julian's alert eyes managed to show some joy in seeing her, and she smiled back. “How do you feel?” she signed, walking up to stand beside the hospital bed.
His right arm, though bruised and battered, was still functional and he was writing on a notebook. “Like I’ve broken every bone in my body.”
“I think you did,” she replied. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”
“Is everyone here?” he wrote.
“Yes.”
“Anyone thrown a punch yet?”
She stifled a laugh. “No, we’re being civil,” she assured him. “We’re all worried about you.”
“Did anyone tell Salma Hayek?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “Those sunflowers are from her,” she said, pointing to a nearby flower arrangement. “She’s very sad you won’t be in Cannes with her…”
“My brain is fuzzy. Can’t remember what happened,” he wrote.
“You hit a car, and then the ground. Very hard,” Gwen explained. “Lots of broken bones, scratches, blood loss. You were in surgery for a long time, and they’re still worried about a few things. But they’re optimistic.”
“I still look better than you,” he wrote.
She grinned at his statement. “Yes you do, you wanker.”
“Sorry to ruin your holiday,” he apologized. “Did you ever ask that pilot out?”
She shook her head, wondering why he would even think of such a thing at a time like this. “You didn’t ruin my holiday. And no, I didn’t,” she signed.
He wrote the word “coward” on the paper.
“I am not,” she protested. “The timing just isn’t right.”
He then underlined the word “coward” in response.
“Fine. The next time I see him, I’ll ask him. Promise. But right now, I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”
“How much longer do I have to stay here?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Your lung is okay, but they might need to do another surgery on your leg, and they’re worried about…complications.”
“What complications?”
“I don’t know. I think they have to say things like that. Just in case.”
“Just in case?” he wrote.
“Look, I’m not worried about it. You nearly died, but they brought you back. They’ve taken good care of you so far. Everything will be fine.”
“But just in case…I want you to read the Auden poem.”
She huffed and shook her head emphatically. “No. No, we’re not talking about funerals,” she insisted.
Again, he underlined “read the Auden poem.”
Deciding to humor him, she signed, “But that’s so derivative. No good ever came from a Hugh Grant film.”
“John Hannah did.”
“Okay, you have a point,” she relented.
“So you’ll do it?”
“I will,” she agreed. “But not anytime soon.” She pulled up a chair to sit by the bed and took his hand in hers. “Now hide me from Mum,” she wrote on his notebook with a smiley face, before turning it to a fresh page.
***END FLASHBACK***
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Jack
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Post by Jack on Jan 5, 2007 15:15:54 GMT -5
fantastic flashbacks so fer , Gwen's life is just so realistic. My favourite so far is the funeral, its so rough yet you make it so enjoyable, well done .
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Vivian Waters
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Post by Vivian Waters on Jan 5, 2007 15:29:13 GMT -5
Yes so far so good, i love the flashbacks Great job Kristi.... I'm sure the next flashback isn't going to be so happy... huh?
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Gwen Havers
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Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on Jan 11, 2007 16:21:31 GMT -5
((Thanks, guys. Muchly appreciated. Okay, one more and then I'll shush for a while...))
***FLASHBACK 4 OF 4***
July 2004 823 Vaughnview Avenue Hermosa Beach, CA
Gwen held her breath and concentrated as she completed the last letter of the name “Bristow” in black ink on the crème-colored envelope. Across her dining room table and on the other side of an intimidatingly high stack of invitations, her mother and sister were arguing about some or other aspect of the upcoming wedding. She did her best to tune out the chatter as she finished writing out the address.
“Right, good, that’s decided,” Carolyn stated, pushing aside one stack of catalogs and placing a fresh stack in front of Helena. “Which brings us to centerpieces.”
“I thought we’d agreed on the top hats,” Helena said uncertainly, flipping through glossy pages. “You know, the 1920s Gatsby theme: top hats filled with champagne glasses, pearls, women's white gloves, little chocolate roadsters, disposable cameras.”
“Ah, yes, the flapper/gangster theme,” Carolyn remembered. “Be serious, Helena. The Sun is already speculating wildly about your father having mob ties; they’d have a field day with some Al Capone reception.”
Helena pondered for a moment. “We did discuss the Oriental theme. Bonsai trees and jade dragons on the table centers, origami swans for name holders, silk fans, paper lanterns, and orchids,” she mused.
“With Neil’s father being investigated for using illegal Chinese immigrants in his orchards? Yes, that would go very well,” Carolyn rejected. “Anyway, the orchids would clash with the lilies in the bouquets.”
Helena pondered again. “Well, what about the beach theme? Or something tropical? Those little glass bowls with some sand or glass beads and floating candles?”
Carolyn considered her daughter’s suggestion. “Yes…possibly. Or even put those lovely little fish in the bowls. The red and blue ones—what are they called?”
“Bettas,” Gwen interjected, without looking up. “Otherwise known as Siamese fighting fish. Try putting two male ones in the same bowl; it’ll be like dinner and a show.”
“Don’t be crude, Gwen,” her mother scolded.
“Oh, my sister wishes to weigh in now, does she?” Helena sighed. “I already gave up on the butterfly thing because you were so concerned about a bunch of winged insects. Are you going to champion fish rights now?”
“On the contrary, I think it’s a great idea,” Gwen said. “Maybe you can rent them from a local pet shop in exchange for putting their ad in the program.”
“Honestly, Gwen,” her sister huffed. “You don’t understand anything about wedding preparation.”
“I guess not, because frankly I don’t see what’s wrong with a simple candle on a mirror encircled with ivy or something.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, if you like being common and predictable.”
“Fish bowls are certainly unpredictable,” Gwen quipped.
“Oh, do stop sulking and being contrary,” her mother insisted. “We came all the way to Los Angeles to visit you.”
Gwen swept her hand over the stack of invitations waiting to be addressed. “You came all the way to Los Angeles to put me to work!” she cried.
“Well, you have good penmanship. At least those posh private schools were good for something.”
“Oh, so you’re perfectly fine with taking advantage of my calligraphy skills and yet somehow I’m deemed incapable of handling bridesmaid duties?”
Helena rolled her eyes. “Gwen, we’ve talked about this. There just wasn’t room.”
“Eight bridesmaids, Helena. Eight sodding bridesmaids. And no room for your only sister?”
“I assumed you didn’t want to be a part of the bridal party.”
“You could have had the decency to ask.”
“You hate weddings,” Helena proclaimed. “Everyone knows that. It’s a universally-accepted truth—sure as day follows night, sure as Victoria Beckham will be on the cover of at least five Hello! magazines a year. I thought I was doing you a favor, so what’s your problem?”
Gwen laid down her ink pen and pushed herself away from the table. “I don’t have one. Go back to discussing your fish bowls filled with champagne or whatever…”
She headed outside to the back deck, grabbing a packet of cigarettes and a lighter from the patio table. Fumbling with the lighter, she finally managed to ignite the cigarette. She breathed in deeply, the smoke filling her nose and throat, and then slowly exhaled, leaning on the patio railing.
“You’re smoking again?” her father’s voice came from behind her.
She swirled round to see him sitting in one of the patio chairs, so focused on her nicotine fix that she hadn’t even noticed his presence. “You’re drinking my scotch at 2 in the afternoon?” she inquired, gesturing to the glass of dark brown liquid in his hand.
“Touche,” he replied, standing and walking over to join her. “Funny how you always pick up the habit when you have to be in close proximity to your mother.”
“Well, it’s more legal than homicide and cheaper than heroin, Dad.”
“Look, I know you’re upset with your sister for deciding to go ahead with the wedding—“
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“But she and Neal, and your mother, and a lot of other people have put so much time and effort into this—“
She narrowed her eyes at him, unwilling to hear anymore justifications and rationalizations. “Julian isn’t even cold in the ground, and they’re discussing bouquets and centerpieces. It isn’t right, Dad. You know that.”
Edward adopted his most empathetic look. “Yeah, I do,” he agreed. “But I also know that this family needs some happiness, something to look forward to after all we’ve been through.”
“Right, yes, I forgot that Mum had revised the stages of grief to include garden parties and high tea.”
“She’s dealing with his death the only way she knows how, Gwen. I know it’s not the way that you would prefer. And as much as we wish it would, the world doesn’t stop and take a timeout just because we lost someone. I know how devastated you were when you lost Tim—“
She felt a tightness in her chest just at the mention of his name. “Do not go there, Dad,” she cautioned.
He nodded slowly. “I’m just saying that we have to find a way to go on; that’s what Julian would have wanted.”
“You think he would have wanted fish bowl centerpieces?”
Her father laughed slightly. “Is that the newest item on the agenda? God save us all from wedding planners and their catalogs,” he groaned, shaking his head. He clasped his hands together around the glass and rested his elbows on the railing beside her. “She wasn’t always like this, y’know? Your mother.”
He glanced over to make sure his daughter was actually paying attention. “When I met her, she was this wide-eyed girl from Portsmouth. Back then, all it took to impress her was a postal code in north London and luckily I had that. She was witty and caring and driven. So confident in her ability to take the city by the storm.
“Then one night, after I’d joined the firm, we had to go to this dinner at an associate’s house. The wives of the other estate agents were there, and they were…so cruel. They took one look at her hair, her shoes, her dress from Marks & Spencer, and they dismissed her. She wasn’t up to their level. And from that point, she swore that she’d never be ignored again. She’d seen what was expected of an estate agent’s wife, and that’s what she became. So that she could be the one passing judgment…”
Gwen just stayed silent, exhaling another lungful of smoke.
“She lives her life according to what other people expect of her," her father continued. "She’s done it for so long, that’s who she is now. I don’t want to see the same thing happen to you,” he said with concern.
“I don’t know what you mean, Dad.”
“Gwen, your brother is gone. You can’t use him as an excuse anymore; you have to stop living for everyone else and do some things for yourself.”
“Like what?” she shrugged nonchalantly.
“I don’t know. Go to the movies, go to the beach, go on a date. I mean, do you do anything besides work these days?”
“Yes, of course I do,” she protested weakly. “I go out all the time. I am just fine with the state of my life. Maybe I’m not about to marry a wine baron, but I’m fine. I’m happy." She leveled her gaze at him. "You don’t have to worry about me.”
“No matter how many times you say that, I still do.”
“I know, and despite all evidence to the contrary, I’m glad,” she relented. “But I’m your daughter. You raised me to be compassionate and self-reliant and stubborn. And well, two out of three ain’t bad.”
He smiled. “No, it ain’t.”
She turned back toward the interior of the house. “Ready to face them again?” she inquired, with a certain note of dread.
“I think I might need one more of these,” he said, raising his glass.
“Oi, that’s not the cheap stuff,” she chided.
“I know. Which means I did raise you right.”
She laughed and stubbed out her cigarette before heading back inside the house.
***END FLASHBACK***
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Post by Ethan Rom on Jan 11, 2007 17:42:35 GMT -5
Excellent new flashback, and it does flesh out Mum very well. Even if she still is a bit of a bitch.
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Post by JINX on Jan 11, 2007 18:08:01 GMT -5
Yes Very well done, i love the flashback.... I don't think i could have taken the actual death scene... thanks for that. Now all i have to do is coming up with a good flashback to top yours... *grumbles and walks away*
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Gwen Havers
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Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
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Post by Gwen Havers on May 15, 2007 22:30:25 GMT -5
The poor chap who had to listen to Gwen's self-involved ramblings before she arrived on the Island... Name: Dr. Darren Campos Occupation: Psychiatrist Birthplace: Bristol, England, UK Appearance:Overview: Analytical, insightful, contemplative, "careful" with money, blunt but not entirely lacking in sympathy, sarcastic, self-deprecating, tries to impress people by reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, is really really tall
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Post by Severin on Jun 9, 2007 15:44:32 GMT -5
It's me! Hehe, I'm gonna enjoy playing him. Merchant is God. Well, not really, but he's probably taller than God... And:
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
Posts: 2,010
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Post by Gwen Havers on Jun 9, 2007 17:57:22 GMT -5
Ah, yes. Our Gweny in blonder, happier times...
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Gwen Havers
Help Translate Rousseau's Maps
Ready to Fallplg%%Gwen, Shannon, Etana%%
Posts: 2,010
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Post by Gwen Havers on Jun 22, 2007 22:22:29 GMT -5
((Wow, has it really been six months since my last flashback? I think I need another JRT fix.))
***FLASHBACK***
Summer 1990 Somerset, England
With a quick intake of breath, her hazel eyes snapped open to see a brilliant blue sky above, billowy white clouds floating lazily by. And it would have been a perfect summer afternoon, if not for the incessant pain shooting up through her arm.
The tree limb where she’d just been a moment ago was looming several feet above her. Mocking her with its being so very far away from the very hard ground. She tried to push up from the grass that she’d suddenly found herself lying on, but her left arm quickly gave way beneath her. “Ow! Bugger it,” she groaned through clenched teeth as a fresh wave of pain overtook her.
“You’re such a wimp, Gwen,” her cousin Fred taunted her. He and his brother George had landed safely in their descent from the tree they’d used to cross over the high wall and into the Marbury Estate. Gwen had been less successful. She landed wrong and suspected she’d done a number on her arm. Trespassing on private property while severely injured probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do.
“Come on, get up!” George urged her. “We don’t want to get caught.”
“Then why did you decide to climb over the wall in the first place?” she hissed back, not thrilled with their lack of sympathy.
“’Cause our parents told us not to,” Fred sniggered.
“And you followed us, pickle,” George reminded her, crossing his arms.
“Shh…someone’s coming,” Fred cautioned, staring intently into the distance.
“Leg it!” George suggested.
“Wait, you can’t leave me here!” she protested, as they ran off into the trees. Gwen picked up a branch that had fallen along with her and chucked it after them with her good arm. But then the pain took over again and she fell back resignedly to the ground. She closed her eyes, trying to fight back the tears. What would she do? Where would she go? Fred and George couldn’t be counted on to bring help and it hurt far too much to move.
“Can I help you?” someone asked her.
She winced at the unfamiliar voice and opened her eyes again. To see what seemed like an angel staring down at her, with ice blue eyes, freckles scattered over an ivory complexion, crowned by thick copper hair. “I…um…uh,” she sputtered.
“Very well-spoken for an intruder, I must say. Do you have a name, miss?”
She swallowed hard, now knowing she was caught. No use giving him a fake name. It was a small village, and even though their family was newly arrived, they’d all know her. “Gwen,” she answered. “I’m Gwen.”
He knelt down beside her. “And may I ask what you’re doing out here, Gwen?”
“There was a lady in the village,” she began in a wavering voice. “She said that I really needed to see the gardens on the estate, and since visiting hours were over—“
He shook his head and smirked down at her. “That might be the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”
Feeling compelled to tell the truth, she confessed in a rushed voice, “My cousins dared me to climb the tree and sneak onto your estate. I’m really sorry."
“It’s okay,” he said with a shrug. “Next time, you might want to use the front door though. The guard’s actually quite nice, and he can be bribed with clotted cream. Fact.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Gwen tried again to rouse herself but the pain seemed to be getting worse. “Ow,” she squeaked, falling backward again.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his perfect brow knitted in concern.
“No, I just felt like looking at the clouds for a while,” she sighed. “Yes, I’m hurt! I think I broke my arm.”
“Well, if I’d known there’d be pretty girls falling out of our trees, I’d take my mother’s advice and actually walk around the grounds more.”
“Yes, well, I wouldn’t be here if those sodding idiots hadn’t decided to ditch me.”
His eyebrows flicked upward in surprise. “Pretty girls with mouths like sailors," he observed. "Right, on your feet, love.” He tried to help her to her feet by taking hold of her shoulders and her uninjured arm. And even though she was preoccupied with thoughts of wondering how badly her arm was hurt, and how much her parents were going to punish her when they found out, they rapidly became mere background noise to the thrill of the fact that a really cute guy was currently touching her.
“Any other injuries?” he asked, once she was uneasily standing. “Head, neck, leg? Anything else that hurts? How do you feel?”
“You look even better right-side up,” she declared dreamily.
He grinned. “Pretty sure you hit your head on the way down then. Look, the house isn’t too far and we can call a doctor from there. You think you can make it alright?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
They began to walk in the direction of the house, and he stuck close by in case she stumbled or faltered along the way.
“Sorry, what was your name again?” she inquired.
“Oh, I’m Nicholas,” he replied. “Pleased to meet you, Gwen. I’d shake your hand, but…uh, that might have to wait till another time.”
“What about my cousins?”
“No worries. We’ll just set the dogs on them.”
***END FLASHBACK***
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Post by JINX on Jun 23, 2007 0:55:19 GMT -5
HAHAH, run boys run! well thats what they'll deserve for leaving poor Gwen all alone.... Now i have to play catch up and make myself a new Jinxy flashback -grins- we'll eventually.
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Post by Severin on Jun 23, 2007 7:16:22 GMT -5
Awww. I really loved that flashback. Twas brilliant. Poor Gweny with those shitty cousins...
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