“Oh, but I did,” I tell her through tight lips.
“I’m sure he’ll take you back, Eleanor, he’s smitten with you.”
The kind of stress that only a parent can induce falls into place around me, like a 3D grid of lasers, trapping me in my chair in their sitting room. Back uncomfortably straight, I sit tall and count down the minutes until she gets distracted by a subject change, realizes she has somewhere else she has to be, and I can get thefuckout of here and over to my brunch with Chrissy. The only thing I’ve had to look forward to for days now. The thought of catching up with my bestie is all that’s giving me the strength to sit through this hellacious tea with my parents.
“Margie, darling, I don’t think Elliewantsto take David back.” God bless my father’s calm demeanor, his patient manner, his kind eyes. It’s a lot more than I can offer when my mom gets like this.
Between the two of them, there’s no questioning whom I take after more. Both physically, and on the inside, who I am as a person. I might have her blonde hair, but the resemblance stops there.
“Thomas, hush, don’t say such a thing,” my mother chides him, offense written all over her expression.
I manage to keep my features locked in place, not rolling my eyes, not letting out an exasperated exhale, just taking a demure sip of tea to calm the fuck down, and repeating myself for the fourth time this morning. “Mom, I have no plans to get back together with David. It took me a while to come to the conclusion, but now that I’ve seen it, there’s no changing that. We aren’t right for each other. That’s that.”
“But darling, you’re already thirty-one, you’re hardly a spring chicken.”
My blood boils faster than the electric teapot did, and my rarely seen temper stews quicker than our loose-leaf tea did, too.
“Thank you, Mom, I know that.” That one came out through clenched teeth.
Notice that she doesn’t comment on how my career is decades ahead of my age, just that my relationship status is now lagging behind societal standards, as of two weeks ago.
“Our Ellie bee has a lot to be proud of, Margie, let’s not make her feel any worse. I’m sure this isn’t an easy time for her.” My dad’s hand wraps around my mother’s stiff shoulders as he holds her against him, across from me on the velvet loveseat.
My parents aren’t old money. They couldn’t even be considerednewmoney. They have just enough money for the lower and middle class to envy them, while the actual wealthy still look down their noses at them.
Still, though, their house is quite nice. Bought at just the right time, where the market made luxury almost affordable. Six thousand square feet, several living and entertaining spaces, the highlight of which being the incredible indoor/outdoor space with floor-to-ceiling glass doors that can slide open and fold entirely up to transform the entire place when the humidity isn’t too bad. It’s why they host the annual company holiday party here. Actually, that party might’ve been exactly why they picked this place over something smaller.
We’re in my mother’s favorite room now, all velveteen plush furniture and flowered china. Couldn’t be much further from my father’s—or my—taste, but he lets her have free rein with the house; he gets his kicks in the business.
I nod at him, appreciating his sentiment, the way he’s keeping her off my back, and not bothering to correct him on his assumption. These past weeks have beensurprisinglyeasy on me, but they don’t need to hear that. They love David probably more than I ever did, but then again, they never had to fake an orgasm with him.
She lets out a disappointed sigh, this kind oftsking noise, and then her eyes float to the garden clock on the wall before they bulge. “Oh dears, you’ll have to forgive me. If I don’t take off now, I won’t make it to squash in time.”
There it is. The sarcastic voice in my head is overjoyed at having called it, but my face stays solemn, nods once, accepting her departure. For someone who hasn’t worked in thirty-odd years, and therefore has very few scheduled appointments in the way I’m used to having a calendar full of them, she sure does lose track of her time a lot. Another thing I didn’t inherit from her.
My dad smiles at her lovingly, not minding some of her traits that drive me slightly batty, but then again, no one can nitpick a person as well as their own offspring. Living with someone by force for two decades, being under their control and at the mercy of all of their overrides on every decision you make, regardless of how different the two of you see the world, approach it, is enough to make anyone insane, even when you get along seventy-plus percent of the time.
She casts one last forlorn look at me before darting out of the room, up the stairs to get changed, and I won’t see her again for weeks. My dad shoots me a small, commiserating smile.
He knows she and I don’t have the best relationship, but there’s not much he can do to change who either of us are at this point, so we all just try to make the most of it. Attempt to get together and do things we all enjoy, make some happy memories when we can squeeze them in, avoid the topics that we don’t see eye-to-eye on. Unfortunately, there was no way around telling my parents about my breakup, the fact that I’ve moved out, and that’s something she and I definitely aren’t seeing eye-to-eye on.
My father and I stand up simultaneously, heading into one of the other rooms we prefer to get together in when it’s just the two of us. He wraps an arm around my shoulder comfortingly as we walk and talk. “You good?”
I look up into his eyes, just like mine, and give a few understated nods. “Yeah, Dad. I’m good. This was the right move. Took a little too long to cut off that failing venture, jump ship, but better late than never, huh.”
His palm squeezes my shoulder a couple of times, quickly, and we separate. “I’m proud of you, Ellie bee. Not easy making a hard decision like that, especially when your heart is involved. But if you felt it was the right thing to do, I support you in it.”
“Thanks.” It’s more of a whisper than a word, but he knows. Neither of us are good with feelings. Numbers, facts, that’s where we excel.
I decide to take off a little early, rather than get roped into more conversation about my new least favorite topic. I promise to say hi to Chrissy for him and bolt, like the wuss I am.
By the time she and I have hugged, been seated and ordered, I feel like I can breathe again. Enough space between me and the oppression of my mother’s will, regardless of what I want for me. All it takes in terms of distance is about thirty miles and I start to feel better again.
“So your mom must’ve beenstoked,” Chrissy says with a little bursting hand motion, something akin to fireworks, to emphasize the word.
I chuckle, begrudgingly, the steam not quite cooled out of my blood just yet. “Yep.” Theppops extra hard.
“Did she have David there waiting for you, a ring in hand?”
