When Mona reached age, she left her hometown without a plan, simply lacking a reason to stay. Her mother, less than twice her age, had other, more wanted children with her husband. Mona's townsfolk had always treated her with disdain, though whether it was their prejudice against castoffs, or her resultant attitude, was not certain even after all the loud debates over it. She was pretty enough, so they said, but men in the town tended to be too overbearing for her, or she not timid enough for them; they didn't mind 'fooling around', but she could not be considered marriage material. Things were even worse among the women; she hadn't a female friend since puberty.
They say when everyone else seems wrong, it's best to simply move on, so that was what she had done.
Mona travelled for some months looking for a place she would fit in better, a place where she could be at home. She passed through welcoming towns with various rules where she might choose to live, met many kind people and even a few that she could have loved if she had the patience for such things, but she never found a good enough reason to stay. After moving almost across the continent, heading steadily southwest, Mona chanced into an opportunity to save a life, earn a medallion, and become a warrior. She took a guide and turned around, the next tournament only a few years away. After travelling all the way back to the coast of the Pool Sea, she lost her medallion in a challenge. In a town she had hoped to sail from, a hundred miles down the coast from the town of her origin, she felt adrift again, lost. Fortunately, it happened to be quite nice there. She had a few interesting conversations with interesting people that softened the pain of her loss quite a bit.
She was happy enough for the time being, the easy-going style of the town's governance seemed just about perfect for her, as did their easy-going attitudes to all sorts of things. Maybe she wouldn't stay forever, but the place began to feel a little like a home. A large port town, they received many visitors, including Warens embarking for their home island. As they left with their adoring wives, their 'one purpose' as they called them, Mona couldn't help wondering how many other women had failed to be invited home, how many children left behind on the continent.
She had thought of it of course, of meeting the cad that had spawned her. She had gone as far as asking after him on her travels, but she stopped doing it after finding a town he had visited. Hearing about the sort of man he was ended any pleasant fantasies of a fond reunion. She never expected, with the whole world to move through, that he would pass her way; from what she'd heard, he hardly seemed the type to take Passion's Journey seriously enough to bother returning. She'd decided long ago to forget about the past and just live her life, succeeding pretty well until the unthinkable really happened. She heard his name, in a story about how he'd put his pregnant 'one purpose' down to bed then spent the evening in a tavern hitting on practically every woman there.
Mona had not to let her recognition show, not betraying any emotion as her mind raced through the possibilities of what she might do if faced with their meeting. Most involved slapping the bastard, of course. She decided it would be best to simply ignore him as he had her, so she made no effort to seek him out. She never expected that she would know it immediately when he stepped into the Tavern on the Docks where she lived and worked. She never thought she would have to step up to his place at the bar and ask him whether he'd like anything from the menu. She couldn't bring herself to be surprised when he asked whether she was on the menu, and yet couldn't contain her slight grimace.
"You must've heard that one before," he told her with a wink.
"Only a dozen or so times a night," she assured him with a practiced smile. It took all her strength to form it as she looked at her father's face, met his eyes, surer than ever that the Waren before her had banged her mother twenty years ago. "What can I get you?"
He smirked as he looked over the list of consumables they offered, glancing at the food before turning the page over to give more attention to the lists of wine, beer and liquor. "What's good?"
"I suppose that would depend on your tastes," Mona replied, turning to the bottles to grab a white wine in which they were overstocked. "I like this one. It's mellow and a little sweet..."
"Just like you," he said.
She was glad this asshole was making it easy to see him just like all the others who thought they could charm her with the same stupid lines. She gave him her most patient smile despite the rage beginning to grow within her. "Just like me," she agreed falsely, swirling the liquid in the bottle. "Would you like to try it?"
"I think I'd like something a little harder," he said, offering the menu back to her. "Whiskey on the rocks, if you please, and a bowl of the seafood chowder."
"Whatever you say," she assured him.
"What if I said that you're very pretty?"
Mona tried to smile through it, she heard grosser come-ons daily, and yet the smarmy confidence of her piece of shit dad as he looked at her with open lust made bile rise in her throat. She turned from him before she could lose her composure. She took a deep breath as she scooped ice from the chest and forced her smile back on with difficulty as she turned with the glass and bottle of whiskey.
"You must hear that all the time, too," he said.
She shrugged modestly, tossing her loosely curled hair from her bare shoulders as she poured a couple of fingers into the glass, able to feel his gaze on her skin. "Right back with your meal," she said.
Mona took a deep breath as she entered the kitchen, telling herself it didn't matter who she was serving; he didn't care about her, and she didn't care about him. If she just kept her cool, she could let this thing pass and nothing would change, and she could go on with her life never having to think about that lowlife cad again...
"Are you okay, Mona?" the head chef asked with obvious concern.
"Of course!" Mona assured her, assured all the kitchen staff, with her wide, friendly grin firmly in place. She could see how unconvinced they were; even the busser gave her an incredulous look, and he only was only working there as punishment because he broke something of his sister's. Mona felt long repressed shame bubbling within her, rising to the surface. She felt herself blush, her eyes beginning to burn. "I'm fine!" she insisted, but beneath her firm declaration, her voice wavered, and with it her strength. She felt a hot tear escape from the corner of her eye and slide down her cheek.
"Did he say something to you?" asked Ella, a server who was prepping place-settings at the table. Without waiting for a response, she stepped to the door and peeked through.
Mona shook her head, her face burning and detesting all this attention. She had encountered plenty of rude men who'd said all manners of disgusting things to her, and she had always laughed it off, telling the story with a sort of pride in how nothing ever got to her.
"Gods Mona," Ella said, putting a kind hand on Mona's shoulder. "Do you want me to kick him out?"
Mona waved her hand, shaking her head as her friends gathered around to offer their support. "Please," she said, her voice choked. "It isn't like that, I just... I just need a minute. He asked for the chowder, could you...?" She escaped out the back door, and retreated far behind the grease bins, sheltered from the direction of both the water and the back door. She sat down, shuddering with some crushing emotion she had never known. After a life spent wondering, it had never occurred to her that she would react to him like this, that she would be unable to handle it. She had never cried over being abandoned by him, and her reaction was the most upsetting thing of all. She didn't know what to do, but finally decided to just go home, to wait it out. She didn't want to deal with him, was afraid to; the thought of weeping like she had been in front of that man brought fresh sobs out.
Mona gradually regained control with the steadfast plan that she would leave work early and never speak of it to anyone, but her emotions swelled again when she heard the kitchen door swing open. Hoping with held breath that it was a cook with garbage who would return within momentarily, Mona felt her dismay rise when her friend called out to her. Ella, drawn by involuntary whimpers, rounded the bin and crouched before her.
"Honey, what is it?" Ella asked, pulling her into an embrace.
Mona tried to push her friend away, shaking her head. "Please, I don't want you to see me like..."
"You've seen me cry a thousand times!" Ella scoffed, and indeed, Ella cried whether happy or sad or a little hungry. "I'm here for you, whatever it is, okay?"
"It's nothing!" Mona insisted, rubbing her eyes. "I'm just tired. I want to go home."
"It wasn't anything Evan did?" Ella asked. She gasped a little as she felt the shudder move up Mona's back. "He seemed so nice! What happened? What did he say to you?"
"He didn't... he was just... he's..."
"Do you know him from somewhere?" Ella asked.
"I've never met him," Mona said honestly. "I'm just... I'm not feeling well. I just want to go home and lie down. I'll be fine, I'm sorry, I can't tonight..."
"Baby," Ella said soothingly as she held Mona tighter, imitating Mona when Ella was sad-crying and needed comfort.
Mona shook her head, refusing to speak, but she liked being held as she gradually controlled her breathing and if not her emotions at least her display of them. "I'm okay," she said.
Finally, Ella allowed her to pull free, her own big blue eyes full of tears. "Okay," she said. She stood and helped Mona up, too. "If you want to talk later..."
