Fitting in

Chapter 35

Winnie tied Brett’s scarf around her neck, and pulled down her knitted cap. The two of them had talked all week, and had grown closer to each other with each passing day. Brett only had to go home now to prepare for final exams, but she promised to come back and visit over Christmas break.

“You go find that Simon, and bring him back, understand? I want to meet this boy.” Winnie said hugging her granddaughter. Brett laughed at the woman, and squeezed her tight. She hadn’t thought about Simon once on the trip besides when she told her story the second night, and was a little excited to see if giving him some space had worked. The two of them embraced one last time, and then Brett got into the rental car.

“I will, bye grandma.” Brett said winding up her window. The two of them waved at each other as Brett pulled out of the driveway. The drive to the airport was long and quiet, and the plane ride was even worse. When Brett finally reached home, meeting her parents was a bittersweet experience. Brett’s mother was still mad, and her father seemed satisfied with the change Brett had experienced.

“I didn’t think you were going to ever come home.” Her father said joking once they had all arrived home. Brett heard her mother make a guttural sound, and then quickly walk away.

“Well, I’m home.” Brett said hugging her father. She lugged her bags upstairs, and noticed Ben, Tracy, and Tyler had returned from Washington. There was also another guest, and Barbie seemed to be in an extra good mood.

“Welcome little sis!” She said enveloping Brett into a hug, “Will came back. He gets a couple weeks off for Christmas.” She said happily. Brett congratulated her sister, and hugged Will. She looked up and glanced at his buzz cut, and was reminded of Marc. Excusing herself from the minor family reunion, Brett walked into her parents’ room, and borrowed the electric shaver.

She dumped her suitcase at the entrance of her door, and walked into her bathroom locking the door behind her. Brett stared at her reflection in the mirror, her fake tan was fading due to the non-existent sun in Connecticut, and her original nose was back. About two inches of her roots were beginning to show again, but this time Brett decided she wasn’t going to dye them.  She pulled out a picture Winnie had giver her of her dad, and looked at his curls and freckles. Brett tried to remember a time when her hair had looked that way, but couldn't. The straightened blond locks hiding her true self replaced the image.

Brett exhaled slowly, and turned on the shaver. She felt it vibrate in her hand, and took a fistful of the long blond strands. Brett closed her eyes, and moved the shaver down one side of her head. She heard the hair flop on the floor, and began to shave the rest of her hair. She chopped off all the blond pieces, until the two inches of dark brown hair were all that was left.

Brett opened her eyes and shook the short locks. She grinned into the mirror, balled the long blond strands into her fist, and threw them in the trash. She looked back down at the picture of her father, and smiled at the image of him trekking across the USA with nothing but a backpack and art supplies. He had done what he wanted besides his parent’s wishes, and seemed to have lived a content life.

Brett ran a hand through her hair, and grinned. She felt different after the week away, as if she was slowly getting an idea of the person she was. The glass box was breaking, and Brett had finally decided it was better to live outside of it. Whether or not her family approved, she had come to realize living up to their standards had caused her to lose Simon.

Brett walked out of the bathroom, and unpacked her suitcase. She heard the sound of footsteps walking upstairs, and prepared herself for the berating she was about to receive. The person knocked on the door twice, then slowly stopped.

“What did you do to your hair?” Her mother asked pushing the door open. She pulled on a short strand of Brett’s hair, and put a hand over her mouth.

“I cut it.” Brett said folding a pair of jeans.

“Why? I thought this trip was supposed to help you, not change you more.”

“Mom, it did help me. I know who I am now. I’m not a Witte,” She said pushing her mother’s hand away, “I don’t have the same interest in politics as you all do. I’m not a Williams, I’d rather do something more with my life. I’m a Stone. The granddaughter of Winnie Stone, and the daughter of Grayson Stone.”

“This can’t be happening. I am not losing you to someone you’ve only known for a week. Get in the car, we’ll buy a wig or something. No one will have to know.” She said frantically.

“Mom, no. You’re not losing me, you never had me. Besides, you and dad are still my parents, and I love you more than anything. You’ll never be able to get rid of me, the real me, not the one I created to fit in.” She said reaching her mother’s hand to give it a small squeeze.

“I don’t understand!” She wailed flopping onto Brett’s bed.

“That’s because you’re not trying to.”

“So you are telling me you’ve always liked art? And that this boy Simon didn’t just corrupt you?”

“Yes mom!  I’ve been enrolled in every art class since middle school, I’d just cover them up by typing up my own transcript. Call the school, they’ll tell you the truth.”

The woman sighed heavily, and glanced up at her daughter. She felt like she was looking at her when they’d first brought her back from the hospital. Her mother remembered falling in love with the baby on sight, her short brown hair, chubby fingers, and when she’d yawned and opened her eyes, there were two perfect light blue pools inside. To her luck, the hospital said the child was up for adoption, and once all the paper work was done, Mrs. Witte remembered being the happiest person alive. She sighed, and looked down at the carpet.

She did remember a time when Brett would scribble on paper; the child had been obsessed with coloring books. But she’d assumed it was just a stage then, what child didn’t’ like coloring books? Brett smiled slightly, and cupped her mother’s hand in her own.

“I’m still yours mom. And I’d never change that.” She said squeezing her hand. Her mother squeezed back, and gave a faint smile. She didn’t fully understand her daughter now, but was willing to try and figure it out.

“Okay I’ll believe you. I’m just tired of being angry with you.” She said opening her arms. Brett hugged her mother, and was glad she had forgiven her. Her mother pulled out of the hug and brushed her hand across Brett’s short hair.

“Let’s figure out how to style this hair.” She said inspecting a short strand. Brett smiled as her mother began to pull out hair a hairbrush, clips, and other hair supplies to style her hair. It was almost like old times.

***A/N: imagine her hair like Emma Watsons when it was cut short***