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westerlyroleplay · 2 years

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NAME: Augustus Dunne GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis man / He/Him AGE & DATE OF BIRTH: 32 years old / November 26th HOMETOWN: Westerly, RI TIME IN WESTERLY: Returned 6 months ago RESIDENCE: Downtown OCCUPATION: Doctor at Rhode Island Medical Center

I KNOW THAT IT’S OVER, I DON’T NEED YOUR —— closure.

“no sugar, darling. we cannot risk you gaining weight again.”

a curt nod, nothing else to add to this simple truth. his mother knows best, she always had. it would mortify him to lose the role of the perfect son just because he dared to eat a pastry. but his mother is here, makes sure he eats the right portions, the right greens - only the food that would make him better. auggie needs to be perfect this time.

on the other side of the table, his father is not even sparing them a glance. this soirée is important, a deal must be dealt, one they could all benefit from. clarissa, his mother, she smiles and nods. that is all they can do, for william, right now. smile and nod. smile and nod and shut up. they must shine for him, for all his efforts for the family (she told him this, a few years back, hiding in the darkness of his enormous bedroom, and he has held so tight to this knowledge, that he is nothing more than a disturbance in the busy lives of his parents). father deserves it. they all play a part in the family.

diamonds are adorning his mother’s long, smooth blonde hair, shining upon her pale skin. she is wearing nothing but the most exquisite emerald dress, and auggie admires the way every gaze fly her way when she moves across the room. clarissa dunne (née keane), one of the most up-and-coming fashion designer in new york, knows how to direct a crowd, charm her way through every heart, every soul. young auggie wants this. the attention she gives others, the way she looks at them, without looking through them.

like she does with him

he sees how even his father steals glances at her. how lucky she is.

her big, soft blue eyes, are laughing as she exchanges polite pleasantries with the other women. auggie does his role to perfection, he hopes william notices. would notice how his son has not opened his mouth all night, has been a good boy. how every now and then, his mother’s hand comes and readjusts his bowtie or puts back in its place a wild curl.

come now, you demon-child. stay pretty for mama

they all love him, these women. tell clarissa how her son is perfect, so well-mannered and polite. ms. vickers tells her he should eat a little bit more, though. he hasn’t even touched his foie gras, clarissa. It would not do him wrong to eat a little! strangers’ expectations of what he should do, eat, read - they don’t matter. he does not care, his attention is focused on something else. someone else.

auggie musters some courage to look up at his father, and, unexpectedly, actually meets his eyes. william dunne holds his gaze for a minute (a minute, or a lifetime?) before turning back his attention to the conversation (between real men, he would tell his son often). at this very moment, something dark and ugly creeps up alongside his spine, setting its claws in the very core of young auggie’s innocence.

only years later would he recognize, put a name on this destructive feeling : shame.

“really, this attitude… he gets it from your side of the family.”

“you’re not serious, william? did you see your mother?” a pause, heavy with the most recent insinuations from the accusation. “she believes herself queen of the fucking world, speaks to us, to me, as if we’re nothing but dogs and lowlives. she’s as arrogant as your son!”

“definitely not. this brat, that’s your son.”

the road ahead is flat, uneventful. trees are running, and augustus tries to find someone, something, hiding into the trees. his father’s driving, fast and careless. his mother is fixing her makeup again. they’re both trying to convince each other that auggie is not their son; that his faults are a result of either DNA, and not a result of their parenting. never would they win an award for being the most present, caring parents. both are successful, sure– william is, after all, the heir of Standard Oil, his mother an up-and-coming fashion designer. they fight, alot. not often about all their children. but a lot of the time about their son. they often do that when the boy messes up. today, it’s a fist in an annoying girl’s face. she kept telling him that he was stupid. kept laughing at him you have girl hair and pointing at him. his mother always told him that he should never hit girls but his father always told him that real men stand up when they are intimidated, bullied. so why, oh why, is it bad that he hit angela’s bird-like face? she certainly deserved it. auggie is a real man, he stood up.

his mother sighs, auggie keeps his attention focused on the road outside. she turns to him, her blonde hair encircling her face, accentuating her jaw. his mother, once the most beautiful woman in his opinion, though the epitome of refinement, has eyes that are never kind towards her son. she told him, once, that she hated him. hated how gorgeous he was, as if he stole all of her remaining beauty. she’d been drunk, that time. william had sat there, in the car, driving, saying nothing. auggie was ten at that time, and he remembers this as if it just happened. he despises clarissa. can’t wait to be out of her clutches. “but for the love of god auggie, why did you have to hit that girl? you want attention so bad, is that it?” she barks the words at him, but he focuses on the scenery outside. thinks that if he keeps his attention elsewhere, then her words would slide off him. how can she be so right, yet so blind? she scoffs and turns back to rearranging her lipstick.

augustus does not understand where his anger comes from; would never quite be brave enough to look deep. it is probably rooted in this twisted thing the dunnes call family.

the trees are running, and auggie thinks he spots something dark, dangerous, lingering in the woods.

he’s fourteen and has been expelled from three different boarding schools. no matter the price his parents offer, not a lot of schools want him in their ranks. he’s been into fights, he’s been arrogant. sure, he’s bright and his grades are the best– but as soon as his parents are gone, he turns into a little monster.

of all the things they do, they send him to westerly’s private school as a last resort. he wouldn’t have minded the public educational system, rather than this prissy, snob school. it’s a school known for its disciplinary measures. principals march the corridors, teachers watch their recess time. it’s a prison, disguised as higher education. they think that he will learn his place in the world.

instead of discipline, auggie learns procrastination.

instead of control, auggie learns the taste of stolen champagne bottles.

he meets his best friend there; she is highly mean but highly fun. she teaches him how to put makeup on, lipstick red and messes up on his face. unea portrait of his mother, a pale parody, a cynical love. his new friend does not care much about a lot of things. auggie can relate.

he despises the uniform, gets detention everytime he forgets his tie. the evergoing stares of the teachers, watching them, making sure they form a line, that they don’t run in corridors, that the uniforms are pressed and cleaned. he feels like he’s HOME again, his mother pestering him about nonsensical things. nothing better for difficult childs, the principal assured his mother. she did not even say goodbye before going back to new york for work, dropping him with nannies in westerly. sorry love. i have a meeting with some investors-

it’s not all bad, auggie knows. he discovers literature, and poetry, then. gets lost in music. his new friend, soft and beautiful matty makes him listen to new bands, americans, french, even canadians. he joins his friends in secret parties, they get into bars during the weekends, even though they’re underaged. they drink and smoke, and it eases everything. no more pressure, just the low, warm feeling in his belly, like a beast that has finally calmed down.

his mother dies.

his mother dies, and leaves him alone with a father that’s barely present. a father that has no comforting words for his children as their mother died.

a father that barely looks at him, that barely knows how to interact with children, even less with teenagers. william dares, once, to be stern with his son. augustus throws a fit; and literally, a vase. at his father’s head. he will do whatever he wants with his life, he does not want this black gold that poisoned his childhood, his family, his mind. auggie swears on his own life that he’ll leave as soon as he can.

his mother’s death is a liberation. like finally, he’s able, allowed even, to breath and get his head out of the water. her overbearing presence in auggie’s life is no more. the dam breaks, he feels like finally, he has a chance to be himself. his very imperfect, horrible and ugly self.

finally.

it’s difficult, after that. their schedule barely meets, as auggie focuses back on his studies, with a side of illegal drinking and partying. he sets his eyes on a goal, a prize. one that would take him far away from william dunne, and westerly. he’ll study medicine, he’ll become a doctor. he’ll help people instead of destroying the earth with petroleum. he won’t ever have to be in the same room as his father

and if sometimes, a gentle but firm hand wakes him up to guide him back to bed instead of letting him sleep with his nose in a book…

and if sometimes, he acts sleepier just to feel his father’s arm around his shoulder well…

well, no one’s out here to call him out on it.

he’s alone. as he always has been.

coming back to westerly after leaving fourteen years ago…it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. while a lot has changed, auggie can still see the vestiges of old days. some establishments are still up and thriving, others closed. it is still as beautiful as it always was. while he thought he’d never miss it, there’s a place in his heart that feels lighter just stepping foot on the familiar pavements.

the circumstances are not the most perfect, sure. funerals are never happy; but auggie puts on a mask. sticks close to his uncle, with whom he always kept contact. meets his father’s widow, a woman he doesn’t know, doesn’t esteem (yet?). smiles when he needs to smile, shakes hands when the occasion arises. he is his parents’ son, he knows this dance. does he vomit the fucking canapés while everyone’s busy talking about nonsense? yes. are the tears falling from his eyes entirely because of it? probably not.

there’s a suitcase in his car. filled with letters, some opened. others sealed. the last one he got, heavier than the others, has been left untouched. it arrived a week after the news of his father’s death. augustus fears what it contains. not yet ready to face his father’s closure, to grant forgiveness and to accept it.

***

six months after his father’s death, Holiday House is sold. auggie leaves washington for good, to come back to westerly. he’s not a child anymore, he doesn’t need to hide anymore.

maybe…maybe he should open that last letter.

Portrayed by JOE KEERY, written by J.

#t.#m.#em.#joe keery #augustus dunne #j #closure

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