Not handing over my entire life like livestock at auction.
Finally, my mother breaks the silence.
“Well,” she says tightly. “That went well, didn’t it?”
“Are you absolutely out of your fuckingmind?” My voice snaps before I can stop it, tight and shaking, rage and panic twisted together.
“Erin,” my father cuts sharply.
“Don’t you fuckin’Erinme. Don’t either of you talk down to me.”
“Language. Mygod, to think we’re marrying her off to the McCarthys,” my mother mutters.
“No!” The word rips out of me. My hand trembles as I point at them. “You told me we were making friends with them! You said—” My voice cracks. “You said if I was polite, if I made a good impression, they might help us with Dr. Rosenberg.That'swhat you said, Mam. That's the only reason I agreed to go!”
“And they will help,” my mother says coolly. “That's part of the arrangement.”
“Part of the—” I can't breathe. “You mean the arrangement where I marry him? Where I become his wife?Thatarrangement? You let me walk into their home without telling me I was supposed to beengagedto Cavin McCarthy. Did you literallyforgetwhat he did to me at St.Albert’s?”I choke, my voice breaking into something shrill and childish. I hate the sound, how small it makes me feel.
“Inschool, Erin? That wasagesago.”
“Ages ago.” I laugh, sharp and ugly. “As if time suddenly erases it. And even if he was some perfect gentleman, which hewasn’t, you let me find out from astrangerthat I was engaged. Engaged! To bemarried.”
My vision blurs, and my fists clench at my sides. I want to tear off every pearl, shred this dress, slam a door hard enough to splinter the frame, and disappear.
“Erin,” my mother snaps. “Pull yourself together. You know this is necessary for the family’s survival.”
“Necessary for the family’s survival,” I repeat. “I thought the whole point of cozying up to the McCarthys was so their doctor might help Bridget. That’s why I went. Youknowthat.”
The realization still claws at me, the way it gutted me when I was alone with Cavin. I felt sick then. I feel sick now.
My autonomy sold likelivestock.
Given away to a man who once tormented me.
Gift-wrapped for a stranger.
“This is an all-time low.” The words slip out raw, jagged.
“Don’t youdare.” My mother twists around, her eyes venom. “Don’t youdaremake this about you.”
I throw my hands up, a hollow laugh punching out of me. “Are you kidding me right now?”
The temperature in the car spikes. Disbelief curdles into fury, boiling over. “Make it aboutme? I’d give anything for Bridget. Anything.”
“Would you?” my mother snarls.
My father’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, but he doesn’t speak.
“Unlikeyou,” I spit. “I don’t look away when she’s not perfect. You lied about where she is because you can’t stand the truth.”
“That’s not why?—”
“Enough!” my father roars, like thunder cracking through the car. He stabs a finger at me through the rearview mirror. “You donotspeak to your mother like that.”
I feel seven years old again, silenced and helpless.
I bite down on my tongue until iron floods my mouth. I imagine reaching for the handle. Unlocking the door. Throwing myself out onto the highway. Concrete tearing skin. Bleeding, then… running. Far, far away, where no one knows who I am.
