“This is what happens when you let your children run wild. Take note, Serena. Don’t make the same mistakes Mom made with Sierra.”
“Watch your tone, Saskia. I don’t care much for it,” Mom says, brushing a stray blonde hair back into her chignon. She is perched on the end of the couch beside Serena, gazing adoringly at her only grandchild.
Elisa holds a doll in each hand, and she’s babbling away, moving them as if they are talking to one another. It’s cute, and I remember doing something similar. Though I was mostly into Barbie dolls. I loved experimenting with their looks, and I can still remember Saskia’s horrified expression the day I decided to give all my Barbies a makeover, hacking off and coloring their hair different colors. Fun times.
I wonder if I came out of the womb predetermined to disappoint and annoy my oldest sister.
“The truth hurts, Georgia.” Saskia smiles sweetly at Mom as she sips her glass of Sancerre, using her given name on purpose to be spiteful.
“Respect your mother,” Felix admonishes when it’s obvious my father won’t.
I can’t figure my parents’ relationship out at all. There are times Father lavishes attention on Mom and worships the ground she walks on. And there are times when she’s as invisible as me. Championing my causes over the years hasn’t done her any favors, but she was my only support in this house growing up, and I love the sacrifices she made for me.
My heart swells with love for my mother. She’s not perfect. She’s made mistakes, and she didn’t always stand up to Father or do the right thing, but her intentions were honorable, and she selflessly put us first all the time. If I can be half the mother my mom is, I will be okay.
“Do not tell me what to do in front of my family,” Saskia snaps at her husband.
“Saskia.” Father’s stern voice rings out around the room. “That’s enough.” Oh, the irony. He doesn’t give a rat’s ass if Saskia disrespects me or Mom, but the second she disrespects her husband, he has a problem with it.
It’s priceless. Honestly, it has to be seen to be believed.
The bell sounds for dinner, and we make our way into the dining room. My heart is slamming against my rib cage, and nervous adrenaline flows through my veins, but I’m ready to do this.
At least today’s Sunday dinner will be entertaining for a change. I doubt there will be anything usual or boring about it once I drop the mother of all bombs—pun intended.
The sumptuous dinner tastes like sandpaper in my mouth, and it’s a miracle I can force any food into my stomach. I’m quiet, contributing little to the discussion, biding my time before it’s my moment in the spotlight.
Saskia’s grating voice gets on my nerves as she monopolizes the conversation, like always. She spouts off about her accounting position at Lawson Pharma, suggests Serena should start Botox to eliminate imaginary lines on her face, and spreads salacious gossip she picked up from her bitchy friends.
I tune her out, visualizing the homey bungalow on Elm Street I just made an offer on, while I steady my nerves. I’m waiting to time this to perfection so I deliver my news with maximum effect. I know it won’t be well-received, so I might as well do this the way I want to do it—with zero fucks given.
Elisa’s nanny removes her from the table after she’s finished eating, taking her away for her nap. Judging by the mess on her highchair and the floor, I’m figuring most of her dinner bypassed her mouth. I enjoyed watching her eat, having a newfound appreciation for my niece. If Serena is still talking to me after today, I’m going to offer my babysitting services. I’m embarrassed I haven’t taken more interest in Elisa, and I want that to change.
I clear my throat, wanting to say my piece before dessert is wheeled out. “I have some news,” I say in a loud voice, projecting around the table so I capture everyone’s attention.
“This should be good.” Saskia rolls her eyes, sitting back in her seat with a smirk.
I don’t even care that I’ll wipe it off in a second, replacing it with one of pain.
Folding my hands in my lap, I tilt my chin up, eyeballing my father as I say, “I’m pregnant, and I’m keeping my baby.”
Initial shocked silence greets my announcement, and then chaos rains. Predictably, my father is the first to have a go at me. “I must have a problem with my hearing,” he says, drilling me with a pointed look. “Because I couldn’t have just heard my youngest daughter telling me she’s pregnant with a child out of wedlock.”
I grin. “Nope, there’s nothing wrong with your hearing. I’m knocked up. And I don’t even have a boyfriend. But guess what,Daddy?” I lean into the table, my eyes blazing with moral righteousness. “It’s not the Dark Ages. Single women have babies all the time. Some evenchooseto raise a family that way.”
He thumps his clenched fist on the table. Glasses and silverware rattle. “Not in this house!” he roars. “Over my dead body will you embarrass our family like this.”
That could always be arranged.
“It’s not up to you,” I coolly reply, taking a sip of my water. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Mom jumping up, stopping the maids from delivering dessert.
“How far along are you?” Serena asks, smiling softly at me. Apart from Mom, she’s the only one not looking at me like she wants to stab a fork in my uterus.
“Thirteen weeks.” I visited my ob-gyn yesterday and she explained how they count the forty-week gestation from the date of my last period.
“There is still time to get an abortion,” Father barks, and I see red.
Esme uttered those exact same words to me, and we had an almighty argument. I know she believes she’s helping by bringing up all my options, but she can’t project her opinions on me because of what happened to her sister. She knows me well enough to know I would never do that, so she should have kept her mouth shut. She didn’t appreciate me telling her that, and the conversation rapidly deteriorated. I ended up stomping off, and I’m still not speaking to her.
