⤷ ❛ 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐋, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐊 ❜
IN WHICH . . .
francesca and joel realize that they
truly are meant to be - for better
or for worse, in life and in death.
THE LAST OF US,
joel miller, fem! oc
...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THEN! ( September 26, 2003 ——– Gloucester, Massachusetts )
Francesca's damp sun kissed auburn hair, that was already starting to darken now that summer was quickly becoming a thing of the past, was separated in another three sections and placed over one another by the gentle hands of her mother, Juliette.
The soft continuous tugging on her scalp was a comforting feeling to the girl, knowing that her mom was finally home after not seeing her since the night before. By the time Frannie had woken up at 6:30 a.m. to get to school by 7:15 a.m., her mother was long gone at her first work shift — Juliette Zwicker was a busy woman. A single mother working two strenuous jobs but still, she made sure she made it home in time every night to braid her daughter's hair after her shower.
Music played on the record player in the corner of the living room, a family heirloom passed down through the generations, along with the house the two of them lived in. Juliette's pleasant hum matched the tune of the song as the sound delicately moved through the room and out the open window and into the dark chill air of the coming New England fall. The two trees in their front yard behind the white picket fence dawning bright red and orange leaves beginning to loosen from their stems and make their journey to the grass below where they will eventually decay into the earth and the cycle starts all over again.
Juliette knew how to make a home feel like a home since Francesca spent so much time alone there, she made sure she felt safe and loved in the environment. So she filled it with paintings done by herself encased in dozens of various shaped and colored frames. The walls were covered in landscape paintings of the astonishing geography of New England, portraits done in various art styles of Francesca throughout her life as well as species of butterflies native to America because of Frannie's love of the majestic and colorful bug. Grouped together they all told a story, a beautiful story about how everything Juliette did, she did for her daughter —— her world.
The stunning artwork that Frannie often found herself looking at for hours was accompanied with plants consisting of fake and real greenery, either hanging or placed on surfaces next to the bright colored furniture and decor so even in the dead of winter, every room was lively with all forms of vibrancy.
Juliette was able to sell her pieces in the summer at the many art galleries where tourism was at its highest on the peninsula of Rocky Neck, one of the oldest art colonies left in the United States.
She was born and raised in Gloucester and when she was early in her pregnancy with Francesca, she inherited the property they now live in after a relative passed away and was the only living family member left.
Their colonial farmhouse resided right on the water overlooking Gloucester Harbor — their large open backyard dropped down with a wall of eroded rocks and right into the ocean. At the middle of the wall began an old but sturdy dock which once held a small boat attached to it but Juliette was forced to sell it when Frannie was just a baby to help get by with the never ending piles of bills.
