“Oh, don’t look so offended. It was only a suggestion.”
Martine thinking that me quitting my job would fix everything is laughable. No matter how many times I’ve lovingly talked about my work during family dinners, she and Surinder just don’t seem to get it.
I became a pharmacist because I want to help people. Because my brain is wired in a way that makes it easy for me to do this work. Plus, Karan and I make almost exactly the same salary. Me quitting my job would halve our income.
And how would I support my little sister then?
“Yeah, no, I’m definitely keeping my job, Martine.”
“In that case, you just need to be patient, sweetie. Karan will come around if you give him the support he needs.”
I’m not going to argue about the fact that I’ve been giving Karan all the support he needs to thrive at his stupid job. I’m the one who’s been holding down the fort. The one who’s been taking time off work to pick up our sons when they have a bad day at school.
Instead, I grit out, “Yeah.”
I stand from the bed, sick to my stomach.
“I’m gonna go lie down for a bit, okay? I think I ate a bit too much.”
Martine stands with me and pulls me into a hug. “Of course, sweetie. Take care of yourself, too. It’s all good.”
I stumble out of the room and go straight to mine, then let myself collapse on the unmade double bed. The air is thick and heavy. I let out a shaky sigh and hope Martine doesn’t hear me through my door.
Her voice still resonates in my head, almost like she’s right next to me still. I turn on my back and grab my phone from my pocket to start scrolling through social media to distract myself.
Martine came right out with it, didn’t she? She might as well have told me I should try harder and that it’s all my fault. The weight of her words sit on my chest. I don’t always see eye to eye with my mother-in-law, especially since the birth of the twins, but she never, ever gave me the impression I wasn’t good enough for her son.
Until now.
I slam my eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.
I hate that she’s making me feel like this.
Fuck.
Thoughts of my own mother swirl in my head. Even before she and my father began their outright emotional abuse of my sister, which eventually escalated to physical abuse, they were never really a safe place for us. I always had the feeling that their love was conditional on my success.
I just never understood how true that was until Océane failed to achieve the level of success Will and I did.
Martine, despite all her flaws, always made me feel like I deserved to be loved no matter what.
Maybe I’m overthinking this. What I really need right now is to talk this out.
I dial Sophie’s number, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hey!” she calls out in her bright, familiar voice.
“Sophie,” I say, my voice sounding small and desperate.
“Rachel, you okay?”
A rush of gratitude pours through my veins like warm water.
“No.”
I mean it to come out as a joke, but it sounds too raw.
“Hey, what happened?” The concern in her tone is immediate.
