Chapter Text
Blackbird
After a hellish year and a half, will Donna take these broken wings and learn to fly, or will she remain on the ground, languishing in mediocrity?
Preamble: Land of the Free
January 5, 1980
Finally, after all this time, she's as free as a bird. Free at last.
Breaking free from formidable shackles, she feels like a bird released from an ironclad cage. Before, she was a bird caged by white picket fences and lowered expectations. Now, she's facing her fears. Head on, and without regrets.
However, such an abrupt departure is easier said than done. It's a difficult endeavor, to depart from everything she once knew, as she's continuously been slapped with an eerily awkward silence. Without her family, her friends, or the love of her life.
The love of her life used to be her best friend, but that was a long time ago. It's a distant memory, a relic from the past. Filled with scraped knees and plenty of grass stains and caked dirt, while her parents transformed from being normal to downright insane, her best friend made her feel better. Like she wasn't alone in this crazy world, where she somehow was the resulting spawn of two people who were far from the brightest bulbs in the room.
Over the years, she had to deal with her parents' foolish antics, ad nauseam. At its worst, it was infuriating. But most of the time, it was just extremely embarrassing. Where she'd shake her head and walk away, wishing her parents were normal.
But despite her childhood woes, some woes being somewhat minuscule in retrospect, her hopes and dreams were firmly intact. She wasn't going to marry the first boy she met and squeeze out his moronic, bastard children. She was going to fly the coop, as soon as her high school diploma was in her hand. She was going to go to college, and unlike many of her predecessors, she was going to go places.
Ever since she was a little girl, amidst the waves of change the sixties and seventies provided, those were her hopes and dreams. She imagined that when she grew up, she would refuse to be fenced in by the dull drudgery of Point Place. She would go beyond the cookie-cutter houses, the lifeless strip malls, and the rampant first-world gossip.
With a diploma in hand, she'd fly from the nest without abandon. But she had plans; she wouldn't aimlessly wander the world with no place to call home. She'd go to college, and become a globetrotting journalist. Traveling the world whilst avoiding the most dangerous of places unless absolutely necessary, she'd reveal the world's secrets with the stroke of a pen. She'd change the world, and become someone that somebody could look up to. Not for the sake of fame and fortune, but she'd try to right the world's wrongs. Even if she'd die trying.
It's a lofty goal, and perhaps a bit unrealistic, but as of late, such unbridled idealism has been dampened. Like wet gunpowder, her previously explosive and lofty ambitions have recently been rendered relatively useless.
As she honed in on Eric, and was relentlessly pushed towards the altar, she became the antithesis of who she wanted to be. She became complacent and accepted menial mediocrity, as she pressed the big red self-destruct button. It was tempting, alluring, and as time elapsed, she transformed into everything she once loathed.
A lifeless, soulless bleached blonde bystander, she was just Eric's girlfriend. Maybe someday, she'd become his wife, and white picket fences and Tupperware parties would ensue. Like a Goddamn Stepford wife, her mind and soul would largely vanish, leaving only her body behind.
And even if she wasn't completely swallowed into a suburban abyss, her hopes and dreams would be dashed. She'd continue to be Hot Donna, or maybe write for the local paper, a boring, lifeless rag in tandem with her boring, lifeless life.
For the latter, she'd have to at least finish her studies at Point Place Community College. Contrary to popular belief, she never really stopped going; instead, she just lightened her load. Taking a class or two a semester. A couple of gen eds, a creative writing course. That was about it.
She has nearly two semesters worth of college credits under her belt, and a robust checking account, but she knows she could've used that time to really spread her wings and fly. To the moon, perhaps. Or even, to the edges of the galaxy.
But instead of truly going to college to get more knowledge, she went to Jupiter. For a stupid boy. A dumbass, his father would miserably proclaim.
He's getting his act together, though. Even if it's long overdue.
Perched at the Forman kitchen table, the familiar environment clashed with a foreign sense of astonishment. For one of the first times in his life, in South Africa, he really stood up for himself. And against the atrocities of apartheid.
"I can't believe you said something, about..."
"No, it's more than that. I drew a line in the sand. I was supposed to help the downtrodden, but no." Gesturing wildly, something he often called charisma, he continued his passionate tirade. "The program placed me with some rich white kids, to, and I quote, 'avoid controversy.' Isn't that pure madness? So I voiced my concerns, and they sent me packing. Since that fateful day, I've definitely had to explain myself to my parents, but it was worth it."
An awkward silence ensued, so Donna asked the obvious, attempting to ease the tension lingering in the room.
"So, did Red yell at you? Call you a dumbass?"
"Well...yeah, but he's proud of me, believe it or not. I went against the grain when the going was tough." Clearly proud of his admittedly harrowing endeavor, he verbally patted himself on the back. "In fact, one can say that I left a boy, and returned a man."
But such hubris struck a nerve. Like a match, as the flames commenced. A mix of fury and sorrow suddenly engulfed her. A man? A man doesn't leave a woman hanging, only to pull the rug out some underneath them, rendering a relationship null and void. No, that's what a boy does. A massive asshole, in fact.
Therefore, she couldn't help but visibly scoff, a scowl now firmly etched on her lips.
"That's a bit of a stretch, isn't it, considering a man doesn't dump his girlfriend via some half-assed letter. After I freaking waited for you..."
"Ah, I see where you're going with this." Hands now stuffed in his pockets, he awkwardly managed to muster some sort of plausible response. "Because when I broke up with you, I was still a boy, you see..."
"Boy or man, whatever. You're still a jackass, you know that?"
As she recollects the brief exchange, she attempts to make the most logical conclusion; she doesn't need him anymore. She can stand on her own massive two feet, as sturdy as an ancient Sequoia tree. She'll achieve great things without him by her side...
"Wait, let me explain..."
She reluctantly spun around, arms firmly crossed, awaiting an apt explanation. Like she always did, instead of letting him eat her dust. How typical.
"I didn't want you twiddling your thumbs, waiting for me..."
"Yet here I am." Those were the words clearly on the tip of his tongue, so she spared him the trouble. "But I'm done waiting for you, Eric."
At least, that's what she tries to tell herself. And everyone else.