"We specifically told you to stay away from that boy." Mom speaks now, her words clipped and almost whispered.
"You gave me ridiculous reasons for it. You don't like his dad. So what?"
"He used to go to a public school in one of the worst areas in Rhode Island. He acts like a hooligan. He probably is one." Mom shakes her head.
Now I am very annoyed. "You don't even know him, Mom." I have to look away from both of them as I feel tears forming, stinging my eyes.
"You shouldn't be around people like him, Dani." Mom's tone is gentler. "He has a bad influence on you. It'll just get worse."
"The low grades, the detention...” Dad says.
“I got one C; it’s hardly the end of the world. I have A’s in every other subject.”
“This isn't you, Dani," Dad adds. "We know you."
Anger surges in my throat. I ball my hands into fists, trying to keep my voice calm. "Really? Let's do a small test. Mom: at what age did I get my period? When did I get braces, and when did I have them taken out?" I watch my mother, giving her a few seconds to think. She comes up with nothing more than a bewildered expression. I expected it, but it still hurts. She was never talkative with me, or willing to display any affection, but a small part of me hoped she was a silent observant. That she at least knew what was going on in my life. Her blank face shatters those last fragments of hope. "What is my favorite meal? What is my favorite book?" I ask. Mom purses her lips. "You know nothing about me. You never wanted to know anything about me." I turn to Dad. "Do you even know what grade I'm in?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I do."
"When was the last time you were at a school celebration? Never, that's when." Tears start rolling down my cheek. I don't bother to wipe them away.
"Dani, be reasonable. I work very hard, and your mother has her commitments. There was simply never enough time—”
"For me. You always found time for your weekly bridge game and gatherings with friends. You might not have paid attention to me, Dad, but I have to you. Up until I was sixteen, I still hoped you’d change and talk to me longer than to say good morning or good night. I believed the weekend would come when you’d want to spend time with me."
My parents look stunned. Underneath the layers of surprise, I also detect hurt. It pains me, but I've kept quiet long enough. If they think their behavior was right, it's high time I let them know it was not.
"Mom, you do nothing all day except meet up with other rich and bored housewives, or go shopping. You are so bored you redecorate the house once a year. And still, among all this sea of boredom, you never take a few minutes a day to talk to me, other than to remind me of my pitiful sense of fashion. You two either shout at each other or ignore each other. That is when you don't have to put up a good show for friends or business partners. Somewhere in this war between you, I was caught in the middle. Maybe you both grew so cold-hearted you never knew how to give me anything more than silence. Fine, I respect that, but don't pretend you know me. I simply want to have someone who cares about me. Damon does."
"We might not have been the best parents, Dani," my father interjects, "but we are your parents, and you need us."
I laugh sadly. "No, Dad, I don't. You know when I needed you? When I was seven years old and our dog bit me during one of your garden parties. You instructed our driver to take me to the hospital because you were too busy entertaining your guests. I was scared and hurting, and I wanted my parents, not a stranger. I needed you when I was fifteen and I got appendicitis before Christmas. Neither of you were home and the staff had the day free. I took myself to the hospital in a cab. Then I had a hard time convincing the hospital to perform the fricking surgery. You see, they needed the approval of an adult who was in charge of me." My eyes burn, tears rolling down in streams. "Oh, how I needed both of you then. Do you remember what you said when I called you and asked one of you to return to stay with me?"
Of course, they don't.
"You said it's an easy surgery, and you must remain skiing with your business partner. You wanted to strike a deal with him by the end of the trip. James flew over here all the way from motherfucking Australia to be with me. You taught me how not to need you, and like the excellent student I've always been, I learned the lesson."
I look away, the sight of them too much to bear. I can't believe I imagined today would be the day Mom would finally act like a mother: kind and caring. What an idiot I am. Delusional, really.
"Why didn't you send me off to boarding school like you did with James?" I ask. "You had no problems shipping him away when he was a kid. Why didn't you do the same with me?"
My mother looks as if I've slapped her. "I wanted to be near you. Sending James off was a mistake. Children should grow up next to their parents," she says. I read the meaning of her words. I can tell I’m right by the resentful look she gives my father.
Dad always had his work. Mom was desperately alone after she gave up her career for him. When James was born, that loneliness was curbed. Then Dad insisted on sending him to boarding school. She refused to let Dad send me away. I imagine she thought of me as a pet of some sort...or a doll. She wanted me next to her, but had no idea how to be a parent.
"From now on," my father says in a business-like tone, "you will be watched." Ah, here it is. I've heard of his controlling nature, but never experienced it first-hand, perhaps because I've never done anything out of the ordinary. I've always blended in with the decor. I was the invisible daughter. "Paul will drive you to school and back, as always, but he will remain on your school premises at all times."
I want to point out that Damon goes to the same school, so that won't do anything, but I refrain myself.
"If you go to Heather's—”
"Hazel," I correct him.
"Paul will also drive you there and wait for you."
"What exactly do you think you'll accomplish by doing this, Dad?"
His features harden. "You deserve more than him."