Lia:This isn’t funny. This is a disaster.
Freddie:And who set that system up?
Lia:Uh… them? I just wanted to retire in peace.
Fred has no reply for that, I guess, because he does not text me back before Mom finishes her sailor cosplay.
I make an attempt at ushering her into acceptance via Dad, but he refuses to do more than sigh, so it goes nowhere.
Around Mom’s fifth or sixth burst of swearing, I decide that I should just rip the Band-Aid off fully to save me from more of this in the future.
“Also,” I announce, “I’m married.”
Dad ceases breathing.
Mom’s explicit tirade cuts short, replaced with, “What? What? What’s she said now?”
“She needs committed,” Dad whispers. “She’s gone off the rails.”
One could argue he is correct. And yet, I find his conclusion offensive. “I got married. I didn’t have a manic episode and tell everyone I’m a prophet.”
“She says she’smarried,” he chokes. “Married!”
The phone shuffles, and suddenly I’m speaking to my mother directly. “Married!” she screeches. “You got married? Your dad’s right. Forget the rails, you’re off yourrocker.”
“Getting married is a perfectly normal thing for a woman to do,” I reply. “And Archie’s a very good husband. You guys will like him.”
“Archie? You married that internet boy?”
“I married the wildly successful and professional CubeCraft Youtuber,” I reply, gritting my teeth.
Mom makes a low, knowing sound that puts me on edge.
“What?” I ask. “What’s that for?”
“Is this the ‘retirement plan’ you were talking about?” she asks. “The one you told us was ‘solid, well researched, and sustainable’?”
My mouth opens, shuts, opens, then shuts again so painfully I wonder dimly if I should set up an appointment with my dentist to make sure I haven’t cracked anything. My whole face protests, eyes watering and nose stinging. Whether it’s protesting the abuse of my teeth or the abuse of my character is anyone’s guess.
“You believe,” I say slowly, hoping the words will transform into deceit as they leave my tongue, “that I, Sarelia Elowen Prim, married my celebrity crush in order to use him for his money so that I never have to work again?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to think?” she asks, defensive.
An angry, hot tear falls from the corner of my eye. “You’re supposed to think exactly what I told you,” I grit. “You’re supposed to think ‘Wow, my daughter is so responsible, smart,and good with her money. She’s taken her writing career and made it profitable enough to have money to invest, then invested well enough that she’s able to retire at such a young age. It’s amazing how the little baby I once nursed has turned into a woman any mother should be proud of.’”
“I should be proud of you running away and marrying some man your father and I have never met?” she retorts, missing my point completely.
My shoulders droop.
“At the very least, you should trust me. I’ve never lied to you. I’ve never lied to Dad. I’ve never shown myself to be a person with bad judgment, either, but both of you treat me like… like… like I couldn’t screw a lightbulb in correctly if I tried, and that when I messed it up, I’d lie about it to cover up my own stupidity. I’m not dumb, I’m not irresponsible, and I’m not a liar.”
Mom tsks. “No one is calling you dumb, Sarelia. No one thinks it, either. We just worry you’re not thinking through all of these decisions you’re making. Like this guy—were you two dating before this? How long have you known him? Why haven’t you introduced him to us if it’s such a good idea to marry him? And if hedoesn’thave anything to do with your retirement thing, then why did you have to marry himnow, without any of your family there?”
Disappointment bolts through me. Her questions have merit. Of course they do, they’re the questions of a mother worried that her daughter is going down the wrong path—worried that she’s making mistakes it will be hard to come back from.
And yet.
I think of Archie’s family. I think of how they don’t know me at all, but Archie said we were getting married, and they moved, making it happen immediately. They didn’t question his judgment on the matter. They trusted him, and they respected him, and they loved him. And, sure, he says they were afraidof him a little, too, but they didn’tseemafraid to me. They seemed… happy. To celebrate him and his joy.
