“What do you mean?”
“Disobeying your father’s wishes. Singing, dancing, going out like this until”—she looked up at the clock on the wall—“all hours of the night.”
I shook my head. She’d been on my side, at least I thought she had been, and now she sounded just like him.
“You said you loved my performance, that you were proud of me,” I said. “You said that less than a week ago.” I’d been holding on to that one small moment from the night they had come to the show.You were a star,she’d said. I’d been keeping that in my mind.
“Well, I’ve come around to his way of thinking. Your father is right, Olive, you can’t be doing this, it’s disreputable for you and for your family. It casts a bad light on all of us. And I’m worried about what will become of you. Look what happened to you last time you were in a show—you got yourself into a disastrous situation,” she said in a low whisper. “What if that happens again? There’d be no fooling anyone a second time.”
I stared at her in shock. How could she not mention my pregnancy or the baby at all since I’d arrived in Brooklyn, not even to ask how I’d fared or if the baby was healthy, and yet choose to bring it up now, to shame me?
“That would never happen again, never, ever.”
“How can you say that? You did it once already. One night out on the town and you ended up getting yourself pregnant,” she said in an angry whisper.
“Mother! He took advantage of me, I didn’t know what was going on, he was older and he was pouring hooch into my drinks.”
“But you drank them down, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know that would happen, I was, he was…” What was the point? I could blame him all I wanted, but it wasn’t going to make a difference. “I would never get myself in that situation again. You have to believe me, Mother, it was awful. I could never go through that again.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about that.
“Well, I’m sorry, Olive, but I have to agree with your father on this,” she said, her face cold. She’d made her mind up on this one.
“Why? You were the one who encouraged me when I was younger, all those singing lessons you took me to.”
“We wanted you to have a hobby. Something you could talk about at social engagements. We never imagined you’d do this with it.” She sighed, exasperated with me. “Don’t you think I’ve looked at my life before and thought, What the heck happened? Don’t you think I might’ve had days where I would have liked to run off with the circus instead of making dinner each night, making sure you kids are clean and fed and have shoes that fit? Making sure your father’sbeer is cold for when he gets home from work? Life isn’t always one big party. Life comes with responsibilities, Olive, whether you want them or not.”
I was taken aback. I’d never considered for a moment that the life she had might not be the one she wanted for herself or that she fantasized about something more reckless and freeing.
“But you don’t have to agree with him all the time,” I said, more cautiously this time. “Why would you take his side when you know I have some talent and a chance at a different kind of life?”
She looked at me, miffed. “Because he is my husband. He’s my husband, and that’s what I’m supposed to do, that’s my role as his wife. Honestly,” she said, baffled that I couldn’t grasp this simple fact. “He provides for us, he is the head of this household and we are to respect him and his wishes. Just like you will when you get your head out of the clouds and find yourself a husband of your own.”
“So you’re kicking me out, too?”
“I’m not kicking you out. I’m asking you to stay. I’m asking you to give up the theater and do something more respectable. You’re my daughter, of course I want you to stay, I want what is best for you.”
I glared at her.
“But if you are going to disrespect your father and defy him, go against his will, then yes, I have to support him and stand by his decision.”
I stood up, shocked. Over the past few days, I’d thought somehow that she would help me fix this rift with my father. In the back of my mind I thought that it would blow over.
“I’ll be out by the morning, then,” I said.
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not leaving. You’re being ridiculous. Where would you even go?”
“I’ll stay with a friend. What does it matter to you where I go?”
“Olive,” she said, grabbing my wrist. “Think clearly, for goodness’ sake, this is your future we’re talking of, your prospects.”
I pulled my arm away and ran upstairs, tears pushing at the backs of my eyes. I dragged out the old suitcase I had stored under my bed, laid it open on the floor and began stuffing the case with clothes.
It wasn’t that I desperately wanted to stay; in fact, the thought of getting an apartment with the girls sounded like a whole heck of a lot of fun and far less tiptoeing around. It was the fact that my parents hated the life that I’d created for myself, the life I’d worked so hard for, the life I loved. Not having their approval felt as though I didn’t have their love, and if I didn’t have their love, then who was I? What did it say about me if they couldn’t even love their own daughter? I sat down on the edge of the bed and put my head in my hands. I’d given a baby girl away to strangers. One day she’d grow up and learn this. She’d feel unloved, too. It felt awful, it would haunt me always. I suppose this was exactly what I deserved.
There was a knock on my door. I quickly wiped my face. Junior walked in and his eyes went straight to the half-packed case.
