I have to suppress a bitter laugh I know she wouldn’t appreciate, but I can’t help answering, “If you think a husband who ignores me most of the time while he sleeps with other women is a good one, sure.”
“Amelia Charlotte, we don’t gossip! Where are your manners? He’s not going to take you back now anyway.”As if I would ever want him back.“But don’t worry, I know a lot of suitable bachelors. My friend Miranda… you know Miranda?”Of course I do. She’s a bloody nightmare.“Miranda’s son, Daniel…” She launches into a monologue about how wonderful Daniel would be for me, but I’m not really listening.
I’m too caught up in the rapid drumbeat of my own heart, thudding loudly in my chest as if trying to drown her out. She has no idea what Daniel is like or what I’m like. Of course, I know him. He was at every event I was forced to attend.
He’s a lawyer and dates models. He wouldn’t want me, and I wouldn’t want him. But she doesn’t care because his last name sounds good, and we would look good together on paper.
Needing a change of scenery, even if it won’t silence her, I grab the phone and stand. Walking over to the couch, I sink into it in search of some semblance of comfort, hugging a pillow to me as I pull my feet under me.
“I just know he would make such a good husband.” My mother sighs.
I was never one of those women who saw myself as a wife. Hell, I couldn’t even picture myself as a girlfriend to anyone right now.
A certain trio comes to mind, but I push the thought aside quickly.
Stop daydreaming, Amelia.
“He can provide for you, and he is so handsome. He would give me some pretty grandchildren.”
I’ve never envisioned myself as a mother, either. The very idea feels alien and claustrophobic. When I think of the future, I imagine myself as successful, immersed in my projects, and making waves in the tech industry with my augmented reality work. In my downtime, I’ll be the nerdy aunt to August’s girls, spoiling them rotten.
That’s enough for me.
Why can’t that be enough?
“Don’t you want to be a young mother? You know, getting married and having kids in your thirties lacks decorum befitting a woman of your station,” she presses on.
The constant battle between the life I want and the life they envision for me is exhausting.
It’s a line I’ve walked all my life.
If I were a man, nobody would bat an eye at me, saying I want to prioritize my career, that I don’t have a picket-fence dream, or that the only thing I want to be married to is my achievements.
Of course, I want love.
Of course, I want a partner.
A man could have that without having to commit to the rest.
But I can’t.
I’m not a man.
And for them, all I’ve done, all I’ve achieved so far, was only to keep myself occupied, to increase my worth until Mr. Right found me and made me produce at least one child.
The thought makes me angry, irrationally so, and stirs something inside me that makes me forget to whom I’m talking for a second, making me bolder than usual. “No, I don’t want to be a young mother. I don’t want to be a mother at all. That’s what the birth control I’m taking is for.” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
I haven’t had sex sincethe Davidson boybroke up with me, and I only take the pills because they shorten my period, but she doesn’t have to know that. Instead of retreating, I press on, “I want to be good at my job. I want to be successful. I want to make something out of myself. More than just an accessory on someone’s arm. I know that’s hard for you to imagine. But your dreams aren’t mine.”
I’m so upset that I’m panting by the time I finish speaking. But the only response from the other end is silence, and the longer it stretches, the more regret claws its way up my throat.
Fuck.I’ve never been so blunt with her.
What changed?
“Did you hear that?”I can’t help but laugh, a mix of pride and surprise in my voice. “She told her off.”
Amelia really just did that.
