“Why?” Violence in her tone. Her sogging tendrils of hair slapped against her face as she turned, the white dress translucent in its dampened state. “So you can laugh at me? So you can wallow in misery at my very presence? To feed me to the dogs the moment I need something as little as one singular loyal word from you?”
“Loyalty?” The word fell from my mouth, but the next ones were more violent. “You want to speak ofloyalty?”
She stumbled back like the words were physically thrown at her.
“What about you,dear wife? What have you done to show even the slightest bit of appreciation for my service to you? I can name some of your gratuities. For one—the way you stormed from the dining room table with lead feet, child’s play at the tender age of twenty-four!” I laughed into the air, wiping my wet hair from my face as I stared up at the sky as if to beg God not to let my mouth run on too long. “How about putting me in as many awkward situations as you can afford? Have you thought about how your actions affectme?”
“I didn’t—”
“No! No, you haven’t, of course. Because no one exists outside of your influence. You can’t hold yourself socially, you scream at your hosts, I bet you’d cry if I made you finish the greens on your plate.”
“That’s unfair. You’re being cruel!”
“Youpetulantchild. How dare you accuse me of no loyalty when you’ve donenothingto earn mine.”
My throat burned, my breathing suddenly quick and heavy, like I’d endured some great labor—emotionally at least.
“Ikilledfor you.” I swallowed. “I promised to keep you safe. Is that not enough?”
Petre was so still, I wondered if she’d heard a word I said.
In the world of a greedy, spoiled child, nothing would ever be enough.
I put on my sopping coat as I brushed past her.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Without me?”
“You have free will.”
I almost made it to the corner of the block before feeling a sharp blunt hit to the back of my head, then a clatter.
I raised my hand, rubbing my scalp as I looked behind me on the ground.
A single dainty ivory shoe.
When my eyes lifted to her, I expected her to be livid, given that she was now missing a shoe in an attempt to assault me. I expected a tense brow and a beet-red face, at least a few more insults.
Her breaths were stuttering, lip trembling. Though I’d seen this expression before. Red eyes and a shaky white-knuckled fist. This was the image of a child who was never listened to, and was still ignored into adulthood. While she was older than I was, I felt nostalgia seeing her this way. Unfortunately, I saw my angry, bitter younger self.
This didn’t absolve her of her transgressions in my mind, but my understanding of her cleared ever so slightly in that moment.
“I ...” She swallowed, laughing to herself before raising her hands just for them to fall by her sides in defeat. “Ihateyou. I hate the way you make me feel, I hate the way you don’t want me, and I hate that everyone loves you.Everyonedoes. No one questions you, misunderstands you. They accept you with more ease, with no leverage, and Ihateit.”
“The problem with everyone loving you ...” I picked up her shoe, watching her shake as I approached for the last time. Her eyes were red, searching, possibly puffy from tears. She shivered under my stare, more so when I let my sentence linger. Did she really think my life was so easy? I pitied her. “Is that you sacrifice what you really want to say, how you really want to act, at all times. You are a portrait of what you wish to portray, unable to speak and only there to be observed. As a woman, I would have thought you’d understand this most of all.”
“I’m tired. I’m tired of it all. I feel as though the only way to be true to myself is to be exceptionally loud.”
“I may have agreed with you at one point.” I knelt down, holding the shoe out before she reluctantly lifted her foot, stepping back into it. “But you can’t be on the offensive constantly. Some ropes will strain on their own; let them snap and avoid the friction burn.”
“The only reason to act that way is to be accepted by those creatures,” she said, her words laced with spite. “Appeasing them won’t make you one of them, even through me. They’re vultures ready to pickthe bone clean, to use every part of you for their gain. It’s foolish to please them while they eat you alive.”
“Maybe. But knowing that is power”—I looked up at her—“and when you play the classes, being aware is the best defense you have. Keeping a level head allows you to shape the narrative rather than force it.”
She was silent, the adrenaline finally wearing off.
