“How does it change how I see myself?”
“I understand. I do.” Caroline caresses my twist, her long nails digging into my hair. I think it’s affectionate. I hope, anyway. “Nothing much has changed since my day. Back then, a woman of humble origin’s only hope was to marry as highly as possible. I did that by conveniently forgetting a condom one night when my millionaire boss thought he was being oh-so-clever seducing me, as if he had to work at it.” She chuckles. “I was lucky. Or so I told myself. Since then I’ve seen the girls born in families like ours. I always thought it would be better to be born a rich bitch, but now I’ve seen you girls and your own struggles. Being used as pawns by your families to secure more wealth. Always afraid of taking the wrong step, because then your pretty or homely face ends up all over the scandal rags for things girls poorer than you get to do without many repercussions. We women can’t win no matter how we’re born. There’s little in the way of love when it comes to the choices we make. I knew what I was doing when I got pregnant out of wedlock. But what if it had backfired on me? What if I was a single mother with a baby daddy who refused to even acknowledge our child? Like I said. I got lucky. Dominic didn’t think twice about marrying me before Ian was born. I took a big risk, and all because I didn’t want to be like my mother, who was in poverty until the day she died.”
This story is making me uncomfortable. The things Caroline nonchalantly talks about... getting a job as the secretary of a millionaire for the sole purpose of seducing him? Having his kid so he would marry her? It sounds so absurd to me, a woman who has never had to think about doing such things to ensure her own survival. My father never pressured me to marry a rich man, but what if his finances took a huge downturn instead of continuing to grow? What if he watched his world crumble around him, and his only ticket to salvation was pressuring his only child to marry a man she didn’t love... because he was rich? Because it was a good business decision? I don’t like thinking about those hypotheticals. Even if my father fucks up his fortune now, I have my own. I’d be out my inheritance, but I’ve worked hard to make sure I don’t have to worry about that. Of course, I was already a millionaire by the time I came of age... because of my father... a man.
I’ve got a headache.
“Those boys out there won’t understand.” Caroline pries her handkerchief from my hand and folds it neatly in her lap. “It’s the curse of the gender binary. Back when I was pregnant, it wasn’t as common to find out if it was a boy or a girl until it was born. I was so worried, and not for the reasons you might think. Yes, it was better for my station to have a son, but I knew whether it was a boy or a girl, I would fuck up as a parent. Living in our world, things will always go wrong. On one hand I was relieved that I had a son, because life would be easier for him, but I also knew my influence over him would only go so far before he was sucked into the good ol’ boys’ club. If I had a daughter, at least I could keep her by my side for a longer period of time. With a son? I lost him to the world of rich, privileged men the moment his balls dropped and his voice deepened... when Dominic clapped his hand on his back and called him a man. He was a child. Then he started fooling around with girls. Then he went off to college and joined a fraternity. I heard stories about possible DUIs, for God’s sake. I always worried. Not just about his safety, but the safety of those around him. What had he learned from his father’s friends? What had he picked up from the influences around him? Was he hurting girls? Was he hurting himself? I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I found out my son was ruining lives and getting away with it because of who his father was.”
Caroline has talked about this sort of thing before, but not to this extent. I sit here, listening, my heart tight in my chest. “I think you were—are—a good mother to him. He can be stupid as shit sometimes, but it’s not because you failed as a mother.”
“No. He’s still his father’s son, after all.”
I snort into the back of my hand. “He’s a good man.”
“I know. It’s because I worried so much he became a good man. I never want to raise a child again. It’s exhausting. If it’s a girl, you’re making sure she’s not being hurt by boys. If it’s a boy, you’re making sure he’s not hurting girls. The fact these are things we even have to fret over... the fact that I was one of the only women in my circles who worried about their sons like that... I always felt like he never stood a chance to turn out decent. Let alone be decent enough to get a girlfriend who is as smart as you.”