We snickered.
I excused myself to use the restroom. While washing my hands, I stared into the mirror.
The fluorescent lighting was unforgiving. It stripped things down to what couldn’t be softened.
I realized I was the only person at the party who was of a different ethnicity—besides the help, everyone was Caucasian. I was sure I did not match their typical profile, yet somehow, I still fit in. Or at least, I passed well enough not to disrupt the aesthetic. I’d caught a few discreet frowns directed my way, but they treated me with respect more out of fear of minorities. It was the kind of politeness that carried distance in its bones, the kind that kept hands clean while minds stayed comfortably closed.
I had been treated differently my whole life because of my skin tone. People couldn’t tell what race I was, and as an orphan, I didn’t know myself but presumed I was either Indian or Hispanic. Not knowing where you come from leaves a hollow space that people feel entitled to fill with their own assumptions. Desperate to find out more, I’d tried inquiring at several agencies over the years. I’d researched online for any hint that would tell me where I came from, but it had all been futile. Maybe my parents didn’t want me. Maybe they weren’t looking for me. Those thoughts crept in when I was tired, when I was alone, when mirrors asked questions I couldn’t answer. Not wanting to become too emotional, I headed back outside to enjoy being in the moment.
As I neared the kitchen, I heard three women talking.
“Oh, my God! Like, really, who is she? Did Caleb tell you he was bringing her here?”
One of them is Beth, but who are the other two?
“No, he just showed up with her.” Beth’s voice. “Did you see what she was wearing? She could’ve made a little effort.”
Ouch! I didn’t even know I was coming!
“Still, I’m glad she came.”
I remembered the voice.Harriet, was it?
“Caleb hasn’t done anything since I asked him to advertise my salon at the hotel, so she could be useful.”
Interesting. That was why Harriet had spoken to me.Utility before humanity. A familiar order.
“I don’t know. I really like her.”
Whoa. Who is that?
“Seriously, Marie?” Beth exclaimed. “Can you imagine Eleanor Evans sipping champagne with her at the family Christmas?”
“Yeah, seriously!” Marie confirmed. “She’s so different. Remember Caroline?”
I was beginning to like Marie, and my interest was piqued by whoever this Caroline was.
“Exactly,” Beth said. “They were a perfect fit. But this girl, she’s just so... different.”
“You mean she’s not white?” Marie blurted.Brutally honest. I liked that. At least it was said out loud instead of wrapped in lace.“We use some colour in our group, don’t you think?” she continued. “She’s confident, chilled, and everyone seems to have taken a shine to her. You guys should give her a chance.”
I was about to walk in when I heard Beth say, “She’s in the bathroom now. I hope she doesn’t take anything. You never know with those people.”
That hurt. Thatfreakinghurt. It wasn’t just the accusation. It was the ease with which it came. The certainty. But I wasn’t going to let it get the better of me.
Steeling myself, I walked in with my hands held up and out. “Nope, didn’t take anything at all. You can check my pockets if you like.”
I heard all of them gasp and take a step back. Fear flickered where judgment had been moments before.
“Can I help carry anything out to the back?”
Beth tried to look at me but couldn’t hold my gaze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
I smiled. It was the kind of smile you learn when anger would cost you more than silence. “Yes, you did, Beth. It’s okay. You don’t know me. You’ve made your assumptions, and I’ve made mine. Guess we just have to prove ourselves.” I shrugged and continued. “Please do let me know if you need any help at all.” I opened the fridge and helped myself to a bottle of water before leaving them staring behind me.That’ll teach them.
I stepped back out onto the patio, the late afternoon sun brushing my skin with a warmth that felt almost deliberate, as if it were trying to remind me that I was still allowed to take up space.
I let myself breathe for a moment, grounding myself in the smell of charcoal and grass, in the murmur of voices that had nothing to do with me.
