ner.
It wasn’t the best trait to have, but it’d come in handy quite a few times.
I figured this’d be one of em.
“I’m not marryin this man.” I cut right into the conversation, no holds barred.
The room grew so quiet you could hear the leaves swaying on our golden wattle tree in the front yard. My ma shot me a warning look, which I ignored.
“Arlen,” Dad chastised.
“You told me she understood,” Rodrick, the groom in question, sighed.
“I understand just fine, Dick. I’m not marryin you. How about findin a woman closer to your own age?”
See, I thought this was a great suggestion. Dick didn’t. He scoffed, but couldn’t open his mouth to dispute me. At thirty-nine, Rodrick (Dick) was a fairly attractive man, with swoopy blonde hair and money green eyes.
He was also two decades older than me, and the furthest thing from my type. I didn’t really have a type, actually, but if I did, it wasn’t a man in a suit who ate garlic bread with a fork.
That wasn’t normal.
My ma rubbed her brow, diverting her gaze as if I’d just sat the weight of the whole damn world on her over-privileged shoulders.
“Why don’t we move this discussion into the den?” Dad was already standing to do just that before Rodrick could agree or disagree, shooting me a scathing glare that spoke volumes.
Dad didn’t hit; he used words. He told me I’d be no good to anyone bruised up and skittish, so he would break me in another way, like I was a damn colt or somethin. I could tell the last thing Dick wanted to do was go off and have a conversation with him, but he followed regardless.
They left behind their pipin hot lasagna. I wanted to yell after them that there were families who would (literally) strip the tanned flesh from their bodies for the same indulgence.
Hell, some families would eat it, too.
“Arlen, you cannot ruin this deal,” Ma hissed the second she heard the door click shut. I whipped back around and shook my head at her.
I studied her from across the table and frowned. She was always so put together. I didn’t understand how she could wear those long thin heels all hours of the day, every day. And she never let her hair down. I wish she laughed like she used to. She’d changed so much over the years. Her main goal was being the best wife–the best cook–and the best hostess.
She forgot how to be my mother.
The opinions of strangers held too much weight in this household. I learned to quit caring long ago. I didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought of me. Ma had been like that once, but now she was stuck.
I could grab her by the shoulders and preach about old times till I was blue in the face; I knew it wouldn’t change a thing.
“You hear what you just said? A deal, Momma. You want my marriage to be a deal?”
“Sweetheart, she’s gone now, and it’s important to maintain a healthy working relationship between your father and Rodrick.”
“You mean Be—”
“You know you’re not to say that name,” she interjected.
“Beth. Her name is Beth, and she’s your daughter.”
“Was my daughter, until she brought shame on this family by running off like some hoodlum in the middle of the night. It’s only natural the responsibility move to you.
“Rodrick wants to ensure he has an in with the wealthiest family in Centriole before he agrees to your father’s terms. You know how hard he works to hold his position.”
I had to refrain from rollin my eyes. I’d heard the ‘dad works hard speech’ so many times I could recite it in my sleep.
What he did that was so strenuous was beyond my understanding.