I miss my morning class, but I get to talk to my mom on the way to pottery during her lunch break. Without Sydney and Bennett listening in, her questions are endless. She asks if we’re planning on living together next semester, which seems like a subtle way to see if we plan on staying married. Are we romantically involved? Do we share a bed? Are we being safe? Have I been refilling my birth control? What was it like seeing him again? Are there any pictures from the courthouse?
I don’t have answers to everything, especially the questions concerning the future.
Last night, I told Bennett I loved him and he said it too.
That felt real and solid, but in the light of day, it’s all sort of nebulous and uncertain. I’m scared that asking those black-and-white questions will lead to more questions neither of us knows how to answer.
I can’t help but think I cornered him into marrying me, and I don’t want him to think that we have to stay married in order to be together.
But then… the thought of ending this feels like undoing something meaningful. The thought has me losing my breath.
I do love him. That, I know for certain.
Sublime is the most decadent restaurant on the coast, and many Portland natives drive out here just to experience their twelve-course tasting menu and the moody views. The restaurant is built almost like a theater with stadium seating. All the tables are half circles so that each diner can face the water, and of course, because the reservation is under the name Graves, we are seated at the most secluded table.
“Does this feel like a trap?” I ask as the hostess leads us to our table.
Sydney is already there waiting for us. She wears a green silk dress with a high neck.
I sit between Bennett and Sydney as a sort of buffer, I think. When the waiter comes by to explain the theme of tonight’s menu, I nod along but can’t help letting the push and pull of the waves quiet my mind.
My nerves leading up to tonight were fried. It’s like we’re children again, waiting to be grounded. I do feel bad about the rent and dorm fees, of course. I shared this with Bennett when he first got the calendar invite from Sydney, and since then, every time he’s seen me getting lost in my own thoughts, he comes up behind me and whispers, “We are adults. No one is in trouble.”
But it does nothing to assuage my guilt or the constant feeling that I have disappointed our mothers.
My stress translated into my indecision over what to wear. Nothing I tried on was right, and though Bennett swore I looked great in everything, he begged me to let him treat me to a new outfit. As much as I wanted to give in, I refused. The thought of going to dinner with Sydney in a new dress paid for with a Graves family credit card only made me feel like more of an opportunist.
After sharing my options with Daisy and Briar, Daisy picked up on my dissatisfaction and opened her closet to me without any prompting. Our shapes are quite different, but there was still a lot to work with.
The second-to-last dress I tried on was a slim-cut black dress Daisy wore for her high school graduation. On her, it had come just past the knee, but for me, it hits mid calf and is perfect for Sublime’s cocktail attire dress code. The bodice is boned, but the fabric has some give to it and forms to my figure effortlessly. The corset back helps with thesizing, and also allows me to go braless. (Something Bennett is a very vocal fan of.) The sleeves hang off my shoulders with silky, feminine, soft pink bows that drape down the length of my arms.
With it, I wear a pair of black Dior heels my mom gave me for Christmas. She’d purchased them while she and Sydney were on a work trip to Singapore earlier that year before everything went tits up. I’d begged her to return them, but she simply shook her head and told me to take good care of them. I’d worn them to senior prom, which I stayed at for exactly forty-five minutes, and now again tonight.
All evening I wait for the inevitable lecture, but it never comes. Even Bennett loosens up, which is not something he typically does in his mother’s presence. We spend one whole course laughing at the suggestive shape of the squash we are served. The waiter blindfolds us for another course consisting of a flight of foams. We are supposed to guess the flavors, and every single one tastes like ass to me. I say so without realizing the waiter is still there and Sydney nearly slithers right out of her chair from laughing so hard.
The head chef comes out to woo both mother and son, and I am reminded of what it was like to go places with them both growing up and how the world seemed to bend to them. But more so, I am struck with the realization that in just a few years, Bennett will be stepping up to run the Graves Corporation alongside Sydney until she’s ready to retire. The boy who was raised to be a king. It’s hard not to feel insignificant and daunted by how hard I will have to work to achieve just a fraction of that kind of success one day.
Sydney covertly sneaks me a glass of wine over dessert, and it immediately warms my cheeks.
“The gift!” I remind Bennett. “Did you leave it in the car?”
“Oh, yeah,” he says, and squeezes my thigh. “I’ll be right back.”
The moment he leaves, Sydney looks down at me, all nostalgiaand concern. “Thank you so much for coming out to celebrate,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t surprise you to know that I don’t really have much of a social life.” She scoffs. “It was quite the blow when I realized my only true friend worked for me until she didn’t.”
“I think she misses you too.” The moment I say it, I wonder if it’s some sort of betrayal to my mom to be out with Sydney and Bennett without her. But it is true. Mom had no choice but to work as hard as she could to provide for us, but sometimes I wonder if all the extra shifts were an attempt to fight off the loneliness.
“I tried to get her to come back.” She shakes her head. “But of course, the two most stubborn women in the world had to become best friends.”
“Maybe Bennett and I will just have to lock you both in a padded room until you come to a resolution.”
“Well, I would need to have my calendar cleared for a good, long while, I think.”
I take another sip of wine, because there’s nothing more I can say to fix the two of them until they decide to even try.
“Clover, before Bennett comes back… I want to let you know that I would like to cover the cost of your living expenses and any other academic fees you incur until graduation. We don’t have to tell your mother either. You can just tell her that you received a grant or something if you’re more comfortable with that, but—”
“I can’t accept that, Sydney. I just—this whole thing was a mistake to begin with and no matter how hard I try to justify it, I am using Bennett.” My head is shaking so hard I’m nearly dizzy. It’s moving, truly, but the thought of taking money from her makes me feel like I’ve been cornered. “I have to find my own solution. I can’t let this go on.”
