#c:harlow green

[ryxbaby]

BASICS

Name: Harlow Green.

Gender/Pronouns: cisfemale, (she/her).

Date of Birth: February 21st, 1994.

Age: 27.

Hometown: Crescent Harbor, WA.

Length of time in Crescent Harbor: A month.

Neighborhood: Sunstone Beach.

Occupation: Art Curator at the Crescent Art Gallery & Personal Art Dealer.

Faceclaim: Maia Mitchell.

BIOGRAPHY (trigger warnings: cancer, infidelity)

The idea of life being presented on a silver platter often seemed like a fallacy to some, but Harlow existed as its epitome. The idea of having a picture-perfect family and a quaint happy life certainly existed in Crescent Harbor, but not for the Green family. Harlow, falling last of the two children, often felt envious of those around her who seemed to have normalcy in their family unit. For as long as she could remember her parents were distant, almost non-existent. Her father the heir of a hotel empire always seemed to be traveling for work. Her mother who had no real responsibilities seemed too preoccupied to care for her children. When they were around they brought nothing but chaos and tension. The fights felt endless and constant – always muffled by a closed-door only to be brought to light by a bitter passive-aggressive comment.

Unlike other families with some sort of spotlight, the Greens never tried too hard to seem perfect. Her father was known for being a bit of a hard-ass. Her mother’s reputation wasn’t stellar either. Rumors always bounced around of her having affairs – sleeping with the pool boy or her tennis couch. It seemed the people her parents chose to be seeped into how people viewed her. From early as she could remember, she noticed the assumptions. Harlow decided it was simply easier to fall into the boxes people were placing her in rather than fight it. If teachers assumed she wasn’t going to make an effort, she didn’t. If her classmates assumed she was a spoiled brat, she would be. The young girl started constructing her image in this light – mostly in fear that if she tried to overcome it, ultimately they’d all be right.

She noticed the things that seemed to make those around her content. She leaned into those things. At a young age, Harlow associated positive affirmations with sexual favors or herself in a sexual image. Boys responded well when she appeased their wishes. Being smart didn’t seem to benefit her in any way. Teachers never spoke to her as long as she passed, handed in enough assignments while answering questions, and being studious brought along teasing or attention she’d rather avoid. Her parents didn’t fight if she behaved if she kept out of trouble. Pleasing people provided a certain control in her life she appreciated. No wasn’t apart of her vocabulary.

On her 16th birthday, Harlow overheard an argument between her parents. Her heart sunk. Her world shattered. Her father wasn’t her biological father. She was a product of an affair her mother had. For once, for their daughter’s sake, they both agreed to do everything to keep this element of their drama a secret. Now more than ever the young girl realized she had no idea who she was, having always felt more like her father than her mother. As summer came around, the girl begged to spend the time off with her grandmother – who wasn’t blood-related to her – in Italy. Anger drove her away, wanting nothing to do with her mother and now unsure how to feel about her father.  Spending the summer in Italy now became a tradition. Honestly, running away to Italy was her go-to when she’d fight with her mother.

As high school came to an end, Harlow realized she missed many deadlines for college applications. She knew there were cards to pull and privilege to rely on if she desired, but her apathy towards further education and her future, in general, lead her to Crescent College. In her first few years, she enjoyed some classes, found it entertaining to try new types and learn about different things. Many of the other students landed on a major by the middle of her sophomore year, but she never felt pressure to. First, she tried Pysch and then English lit. She even dipped her toes into performing arts.

Clubs and activities were really where her exploration continued. Sometime in her freshman year, her friends dragged her to try out for the cheer team – an activity she probably would have quit if it weren’t for the really cute assistant coach for the football team. It started as a harmless crush. She and her friends giggled and whispered about him while they stretched. She’d stare too long, only to catch his gaze. Harlow always did her very best to draw his attention to her, retrieving a ball that had been throw in their area, a flip of her skirt. A dare lead her to talk to him one night after practice. On a night out, Harlow saw him across a bar. Soon he was no longer the hot assistant coach and just Max.

Perhaps it was the way he looked at her. Perhaps it was how he allowed her to a blank slate. He felt like the first person in her life to want her to be her – whatever that was. She didn’t plan for it. She didn’t ask it of him. She would have understood if he’d pick his jobs over her. But, the summer between her junior and senior year he’d officially quit, which meant they were official. Harlow stayed in Crescent for the summer for the first time since she was 16. While she was no stranger to gossip, she’d never experienced it so intensely. It seemed all anyone in their realm could speak of was her and Max. So, when the news came of Culinary school, Harlow didn’t think twice before agreeing to move to Seattle. Her parents protested. Some of her friends protested. Even Max appeared unsure if she should drop out of school. Harlow framed it in a neat package – she’d transfer, she needed to get away from the gossip, she wasn’t simply following him there. She knew what to say, how to say it to make everyone happy. For the first time in her life, she even convinced herself she was doing something for herself.

In Seattle, she tried – not hard – but she tried to find a school to transfer to. Since she never really declared a major, Harlow’s credits weren’t applicable for a transfer. Every school offered her the chance to come in as a freshman. All of it felt like a waste of time. Three years in college still leaving her with no idea what she wanted to do with her life, why would she know now? At some point, she played with the idea of finding a job, but money wasn’t a problem. The conversation kept arising about what she was going to do and what she was doing. Harlow found it easy to keep writing it off as a task for the future. The night erupted into the only fight they ever had, probably because Harlow avoided conflict above anything else.

You’re not happy. Stop holding yourself back. You can’t just live for me. You need your things. All she did was cry. Nothing left her mouth. Harlow was unsure how she’d gotten here. As she watched him leave their apartment, she knew nothing would change if she didn’t. While he was gone, she applied for the art college – something always interested her about art, though she never thought she had the talent. He was right though because she needed to try and commit. Tears freshly dried on her cheeks, she heard the door open. Harlow, finally excited about something, eagerly awaited to tell him her good news. As the words slipped from his lips, informing her of his unfaithfulness, she sent him back out the door. One fight? All it took was one fight.

Harlow feared nothing more than becoming her parents… She packed her things from the apartment and ran off to Italy. One text told him to be gone when she got back – and that was the last thing she said. The heartbreak debilitated her for a while. She sunk into the cliché, not getting out of bed and eating ice cream. Her mother dragged her to a museum only a short ride from her villa. Harlow sat on a stone bench in front of a Monet and promised herself to start living life for herself.

When she arrived back in Seattle, she did just that. Applying herself came easier than expected when she found something that interested her. Art, while she was no Monet, fueled her. A realization hit her that there were other avenues she could take in the field besides being an artist. Her father and grandmother helped her find connections for internships. In a few short years, with lots of hard work, and working through summer, Harlow graduated, immediately being hired to work in a gallery to help curate. On the side, she began dealing art for her father’s hotels.

About a month ago, Harlow received a call. Her mother was sick – and hadn’t wanted to tell her. The cancer progressed farther than they originally thought. Everyone thought it was time Harlow came home.. to Crescent Harbor.

PERSONALITY

+ nurturing, agreeable, creative.

- insecure, indecisive, weak-willed.