Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ 100 Views of Dorothy ❯ To Be A Man ( Chapter 3 )

Theme #3: Never

Word Count: 1,155

Rating: G/K/A

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. The rest is mine. Written for beat_of_destiny.

 

 

To Be A Man or Never Again

 

“That's so sad…a woman who can't cry.” -Trowa Barton

 

After Bella died, I told myself I would never again have a pet. My grandfather gave me Bella; he named her that supposedly because of my beauty. Bella died the same day Grandfather did. How sad is it to watch your grandfather die and to find your pet dead when you get home? I never shed a tear…for either of them. Grandfather died gloriously in battle as a soldier; for that you do not cry, or so I told myself. With Bella, I did not trust myself to stop crying if I started, so I held my tears inside myself.

 

Grandfather never liked crying; my mother said he did not understand it. His father was very strict, and he expected Grandfather to be a man. Men do not cry. Men are strong. My mother was very feminine. She was delicate; she cried a lot. Grandfather would talk to her, and when he got angry and raised his voice, she would cry. He did not console her with soft caring words; he did not know how. He simply told her to stop crying, which caused her to cry more. Grandfather could not understand crying, and so he did not like it.

 

I suppose he, like most people, thought I took after my father and my younger sister took after my mother. At my father's funeral, I cried, or I wanted to cry, I should say. My grandfather decided that women, like my mother, were allowed to cry. They were silly and needed a man to think for them, so naturally they cried when problems became too big for their “simple minds” to handle. My father had no sons, so I became a substitute. Grandfather refused to let me cry, refused to let me become weak. He wanted me to have my own mind, to do things the way I wanted; he wanted me to be a man. He would not allow me to shed a tear for my father even though my mother and sister cried their eyes out. I envied them at the time, and I wished I could be an empty-headed woman. I had to cry in confession, the only place where I knew was alone.

 

He was not cruel; he was a very loving and kind grandfather. He never struck me or talked down to me. However, he did expect me to be strong and to live to my potential. He took me from my mother and sister when my father died so that he could make sure of this. He did not think my mother was strong enough to raise a strong-minded daughter like myself. I often wondered if he treated his grandsons the same way he treated me, especially after meeting Treize after all our years apart. However, I never found out the answer.

 

I grew up playing with my cousin Treize and his friend Milliardo. Nonetheless, they went off to military school. I was sent to boarding school and private tutors for awhile after my father's death. When I last saw Treize as a child, he was a daydreaming boy, almost as silly as my mother. He had vast, fantastic ideas, but none of them were plausible. He loved playing pretend. When I met him after completing military school, he had already become the head of OZ. He was very much a young man. His vast, fantastic ideas had developed into concrete, credible plans. He was not a silly boy, and I wondered how much influence Grandfather had in this transformation. Still, the time I was able to spend with Treize was brief by then, and the time I had to speak with him was even shorter. He was a busy man, and I had my own agenda to which to see.

 

We ended up being on three different sides. Treize and Grandfather were the heads of their own sides. They stood out in center. I think I was more like my mother than anyone thought. I could not be out in center, no matter what my grandfather thought. I hid. I hid behind my grandfather, letting him believe he had my support alone amongst his grandchildren. I hid behind Miss Relena, allowing her ideals of total pacifism be put to the test while I struggled with my own view of war. I then hid behind Milliardo, permitting past sins to be brought up in a battle long overdue.

 

Grandfather died before my third manipulation. I kept strong. I never shed a tear. I kept my head held high, even when I found Bella's corpse. Treize died in the end. Again, I never shed a tear. Quatre's friend thought I was a sad excuse for a woman, and perhaps I was. I could not shed a tear for my loved ones. I vowed never again to let my grandfather's strictness rule me. If I wanted to cry, I would.

 

Still, when the kitten showed up at my door, I was apprehensive. I knew I had said I would never again have a pet. I did not want to be reminded of Grandfather. It was easy to keep my vow when nothing caused me sadness. The kitten reminded me of Bella, which of course reminded me of Grandfather. He had touched my cheek that day, very softly, and told me that I was becoming a beautiful young woman and that a pet would teach me some more responsibility. I picked up the kitten and took it inside, up to my room. It was a playful little thing, but I still remembered my failings and yet my survival.

 

“I shouldn't keep you,” I whispered to it softly. I stroked its head and scratched behind its ears as it purred loudly. “I said I would never again have a pet.” It rubbed against me.

 

“I'm holding back tears as it is. I promised I wouldn't do that.” I stroked its body. “I wouldn't even know what to call you.” It took a moment to clean its ears.

 

“I suppose I would call you Valiente, in honor of those bra-brave s-soldiers,” I stumbled on my words as tears finally overtook me. I had had crying moments for years, but it all seemed to come at that moment. My body shook a little as I started sobbing heavily. I put my face in my hands. I could feel small puddle form in the air pockets between my palms and my cheeks. The kitten had been walking around me and on my lap. It paused and put its paw on my arm. I looked at it between my fingers. I may have been reading too much into things at that point, but its expression seemed as sad as mine, almost sympathetic. Once I calmed myself to where I could breathe without gulps, I scooped the tiny creature in my arms.

 

“I'm sorry, Grandfather,” I whispered to no one, “but I'll never again hold back my tears.”