Chapter Text
Love had been a fascinating concept in Marlene’s life for as long as she could remember. All the forms and shapes it could take were a mystery to her. Was it something you learned as you grew? Or something you were born with — an instinct, a need to survive? Did it come as easily as a breeze, or did you have to build it from scratch, work for it piece by piece?
The big questions started early, the way love is introduced to most kids — or so she thought — through fairy tales.
Marlene loved fairy tales, reading them and watching them. Her mother had even starred in a few adaptations, and Marlene was lucky enough to be there with her father when he directed the most romantic scenes. But her parents’ marriage was far from an epic love story.
On the day she saw her father cry for the first time, the day her mother swore she would never forget, Marlene realized that love, as she’d known it, couldn’t be real.
“I bet, Richard!” Carol shouted. “I bet you were at that table reading and not fucking that blonde whore you’ve been seeing lately!”
Marlene flinched at the loud thud and sat up in bed.
“Are you mad—”
“Am I mad!? Am I mad, Richard!? I have proof!” Another thud. Papers hit the wooden table. “Photographs of you cheating on me for six months — and not even with the same woman!”
Marlene tried to fall back asleep, but it was no use. She sighed, got up, and walked to her bedroom door, intending to close it — but ended up creeping down the stairs instead.
Her mother was throwing photos, papers, and pens at her father, mascara streaks carving black rivers down her face, making her look more monstrous than in the last horror film she’d starred in. Her father wasn’t crying; he only flinched when Carol shouted words like divorce, public ruin your career, and who’s getting the house and who’s getting the daughter.
At that last one, Marlene couldn’t hold back a small gasp — and her father looked up.
That was the moment a single tear ran down his right cheek, sorrow carving itself into a face she had never seen like that before. When her mother followed his gaze, she rolled her eyes.
“Martha! Haven’t I told you to put Marlene to bed?” she screamed toward the kitchen, then muttered, “That woman needs her ears cleaned, Jesus.”
“Don’t talk to her like that, Carol. She’s been more of a mother to Marlene than you’ve ever been,” her father said, voice low, almost hoping she wouldn’t hear.
Carol let out a bitter laugh. Martha tried to pass them, but Carol stopped her.
“Oh, you’re sleeping with my husband too, Martha?” she sneered, gripping the woman’s wrist. “Didn’t know your bar was that low, Richard.”
Carol let go and Martha took a step back.
“No, ma’am, I would never,” she said quickly, hurrying toward the stairs.
Her father sighed. Her mother sniffed. Marlene tried to hide, though she knew they’d already seen her. Martha gave her a tired smile that didn’t reach her eyes and offered a hand.
“Come on, little one. Back to bed.”
“I’m not little anymore,” Marlene muttered.
“You’re right. Soon you’ll be nine — almost a grown woman,” she said, winking.
Marlene smiled faintly. Martha always knew the right thing to say. When they got back to her room, Martha turned the lights low, closed the door, and reached for Marlene’s favorite book.
“I don’t want a happily-ever-after story today, Martha.”
“And why not? You love them.”
“Because they’re all fake. Real couples don’t love each other.”
The look on Martha’s face was more devastating than her father’s had been, but Marlene knew she was right. Love didn’t exist — not really. Or at least, love never lasted. Not in the real world. Not in her home.
“Oh, darling, you don’t know that…”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to lie. I know the truth now.”
Martha’s mouth opened and closed like a fish’s. Marlene sighed.
“Can you sing for me? Please?”
Martha’s smile was tense, but she sang a sorrowful lullaby that carried Marlene into a dreamless sleep.