“You certainly could have bore children if you weren’t so busy with your career,” Mormor replies.
Both of my dads blow out air at the same time.
My mother licks her lips, grabbing a glass of wine and taking a deep, heavy swig, and mumbles something under her breath.
“Something to say?” Mormor asks, and my mother goes to open her mouth.
“Oh, that’s right. Dessert. Rosemary, sweetheart, can you come help me?” my mom intervenes, saving us all from another battle of wills.
“Of course,” she replies, taking a deep breath and following her Omega into the kitchen.
My Mormor wipes her mouth. She’s a wasp of an old woman, frail almost as her hand clutches her water and she takes a sip. As ancient as she may seem, there’s a spry nature to her clear blue eyes. She knows that she gets under people’s skin, and she thoroughly enjoys it.
“Tell me more about this matchmaker. I assume they are connecting you with Alphas who are well established and financially competent.” she says.
“Yes, well, her services are not cheap for Alphas. Being an Omega client is free.”
“Yes, well, Omegas get their fair share handed to them, don’t they?”
Great, now I fear my inherited temper is rising.
“Please, Mormor, tell me what’s been handed to me?”
“Don’t act stupid, it’s unbecoming. Omegas are revered and treated like spun glass. While I believe a woman’s place is in the home, Omegas take it too far. I had hoped you’d be a Beta,” she says.
“Mother, that’s enough,” my dad steps in. I can tell he’s about done too. She hasn’t even been here for two days.
“What, am I not allowed to have an opinion?” she responds.
“There’s an opinion, and there’s being hurtful. You’re being callous for no reason,” he replies.
“I’m sorry I’m such a horrible mother and Mormor. It must be so difficult.”
“Jesus fuck. I’m going to go help with dessert,” my Beta father says, excusing himself, leaving me with my dad and this mean old bitch at the table by ourselves.
My dad rubs his temples, trying to keep his cool and keep the peace. She visits once a year, if that, so we always try to make it work. But I almost wonder if it would be better if we severed ties completely.
“I shouldn’t have come, it seems,” she says, laying the narcissistic, passive aggressive bullshit even thicker.
“You know what, Mom? Maybe you shouldn’t have,” my dad says. My mouth gapes open as he pushes back from his chair and heads to the kitchen.
She dabs her mouth, her lips pinched. Her face looks harsh when she makes that face, and I wonder what exactly happened to her to make her like this.
“Hopefully you don’t treat your parents this poorly when they’re my age,” she says, and I let out a sigh. “Well, dear, by all means, if you have something to say, you may as well speak your mind.”
“Every time you come here, you cause a rift. You’re mean for no reason and constantly pick at everyone’s flaws. It’s hard to have you here.”
She smiles, and it almost feels wicked as she taps her water glass.
“Great, now that we’re being honest. You should be ashamed that you’re still living here, poaching off the generosity of your parents. You should have long had a pack and be well on your way to starting your own family instead of impeding on the life of your parents. Kristoff has spoiled you and made you too soft. You’re embarrassing the Applegate name.”
My breath hitches, and my eyes sting as I soak in her words.
As much as I try to be strong and confident, deep down in my soul, I’m a sensitive bitch who can’t handle criticism.
I can feel the tears hitting the back of my eyes, and I just can’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, I pull back my chair andstorm out of the dining room to the backyard and head to my apartment.
She could have said something, but I don't hear it as I leave. I’m not sure why I let her get to me; I know my parents love having me here and would never push me out of the nest. But there’s still some insecurity there, too, that I’ve held off on truly starting a pack till now, that I’m not where I should be in life.
