◊ ♫ ◊— look what the cat dragged in! that’s FIONA VARGAS and SHE is an around 29-year-old REGULAR to the store, but they’ve been in the neighborhood for 6 YEARS. I think they are a PUBLICIST and I overheard them listening to GINGER by BROCKHAMPTON, and, I dunno man, it seemed pretty fitting. Like, call me shallow but I look at them and think of JULIANA HERZ and A GLASS OF RED WINE WITH EACH MEAL, RISING AT 6 AM AND GOING TO BED AT 2 AM, EMAILING IN THE MIDDLE OF CONVERSATIONS and WILD LAUGHTER WITH HEAD THROWN BACK AND EYES CLOSED. (ooc info: minnie, she/her, est, 24)
• Your mothers are unbelievably disappointed in you from the beginning. You do not chuckle and coo in the palm of their hands; you bite the fingers that feed you and beam wide when scolded. Fearless child, darling girl — who taught you to love like that, by testing their limits and choosing to accept only what comes with blood and struggle?
• You learn to fight for everything: yourself, your mothers, your friends and your success. It’s not uncommon for a born and bred New Yorker, this hunger in your eyes and the way you tackle life with abandon. It’s your kindness that sets you apart from the others. You are never numb to the pain of those around you; like a moth to a lantern, you float to those with the heaviest burdens as if to help them shoulder their suffering.
• But strangers are easy. You never stick around for long enough for them to grow tired of you. You share a meal with them, you listen to their stories — and then you leave. It is, you’ve learned, the best way to spare people from your relentless spirit, that aching for something visceral. Something to haunt you, something to quiet your wanting for more.
• (SLUT SHAMING TW) The kindness rots in your mouth when you are sixteen. You fall not in love with a boy, but in boredom. He is the flavor of the month, and you like the way he tastes. When you tell him you’re pregnant, he promises to stay; and because you are used to being the one who runs, you don’t expect him to leave you, first. It’s quick and cutthroat; he paints himself as the victim with a few well-planted rumors. You are, suddenly, the girl who cheated. The girl who found a college boy and wanted too much at the same time. The worst part of it is that even you can imagine it happening. You have never been one to deny yourself what you want; you have never been one to look back before running towards desire.
• (MISCARRIAGE TW) When you lose the baby, you feel sick to your stomach with relief. You are not ready to be a mother; you are not ready to even tell your mothers. When they find you with hands sticky with blood, they weep and ask you: why did you try to go through it alone? You have no answer for them. I’ve always felt alone, you could say. Instead, you tell them: I didn’t think about it. You wonder if they’ll read between the lines and find your heart between the branches.
• You rise from the ashes because you must. You meet the eyes of the might-have-been-father and curse him and his ugly, crooked penis. The rumors and accusations do not pierce your thick skin, and soon, they forget. You may be alone now, a pariah, but even this, you mold into a ladder to climb. You become the star pupil, one of the school’s brightest. You receive acceptance letters from many Ivy League universities, but you choose New York University. This city is your home; you can’t bring yourself to leave it behind. With a degree in journalism, you think you’ll change the world by bringing the truth of these forgotten and untold stories to the light.
• But public relations pays better, and you find yourself following the scent of money. You become a publicist at one of the top agencies in New York City, dabbling in several industries along the way: travel, technology, food and wine and entertainment. It’s in music where you shine most, and (SEXUAL HARASSMENT TW) when your boss conveniently places his hand on your ass at the holiday party, you quit and pursue a career as a freelance publicist for musicians.
• It is a long and dusty road, with few people to hold your hand and light the way. You struggle, first. Over and over, you make fatal mistakes: you overcharge, undercharge, overwork, under-prioritize… Each one is a chip in your armor, but you ignore it by throwing yourself deeper into your work. There are one-night stands to distract you, friends who try to hold you tight but are forced to let you go. Your mothers try to talk to you, but they are only a reminder of how deeply you want to make them proud. Your beautiful and endlessly kind mothers, who want the best for their daughter but don’t understand what you want. If you cannot be understood, then you cannot be loved — this, you feel deeply in your bones. You will only accept love that is proven through sweat and blood and tears.
• One pro-bono client — an indie pop band in desperate need of exposure — turns things around. The main singer finds herself involved in a scandal that blows out of proportion, and you handle it with grace; for have you not been in her shoes before, as well? Don’t you understand what it means to have a thousand arrows engraved with your name as its target? You protect her ferociously, and bring them out alive. Along the way, you fall in love with her. You swallow it down, in the name of professionalism and your own ambitions — the only god you’ve ever followed.
• You climb the ranks and become a sought-after publicist, and this affords you the luxury of choosing only those you believe in. With a small circle of clients, from undiscovered bands to pop sensations, you build a life gilded with gold and luxury. But when you look around you for someone to share it with, you come up empty.
