“Oh look there’s yourlover,”Marissa snickers from the front seat. I can feel the heat rise up my cheeks.
“That is not what he is! Besides whatever that was, I ended it a couple of weeks ago…” I quickly reply, catching my mother’s glance at me through the rear view mirror. She doesn’t need to know I lost my virginity to one of the Jones boys or that he was a pretty good lover, not that I have much to compare him to.
Benji is the second oldest of six boys that poor Mrs. Jones was left with after their father split a few years back. They are a good bunch for the most part, as good as six mischievous boys who are always together could be, with Benji being the better of them, but his idea of a good life is staying put and never changing. Our relationship seemed to be just about sex near the end. Benji would travel all the way to my dorms, a few hours away, in his rusty old car just to scratch the itch. I could feel greater things pulling me away from settling for that. I could feel someone…else, pulling me away. Or perhaps it was the wilder parts of this world, calling my name.
“Go on then, leave before he gets to the car. We will meet you inside.” Delia winks in the rear view before rolling down thewindow as Benji approaches. She has her nice moments and in this one I could kiss her. I quietly open the door and slide out as silently as I can.
“Hello Mrs. Piedmont, hello Marissa, lovely to see you. May I park your car?” Benji says as he tries to peer into the back seat. I hunch down on the other side of the car then run, or waddle, as quickly as I can to the front door while he is distracted holding the car door open for my mother.Sometimes ladies do need to run after all!I scoff to myself knowing I look like a ridiculous, elegantly dressed duck trying to run in this skirt.
Once inside, I am hit by a wall of floral perfume and a chorus of giggling women clinking their glasses. The front foyer opens up to a grand room that is set up with dozens of round, white-clothed tables leading up to a low stage with a podium set up on top. No doubt for the announcements and bragging of the ladies. I wait off to the side of the front door hoping to not be approached before Delia and Marissa arrive. Crowds are hard for me. I can never tell if all the voices are in my head or being spoken out loud and I often feel like I’m in a hazy cloud of sound.
“Ah, Delia, we’ve been waiting for you and the girls to begin,” the leader of the council wives committee chimes in, her pink, floral chiffon skirt swishing as she saunters to the door with a flute of champagne held out for my mother.
“We are precisely on time darling Margo. We may begin now,” Mother says with an air of superiority, grasping the champagne and not pausing in her step as she continues walking to our table. Margo may be the committee head but my mom is clearly the more revered. She has always had an aloofness to her that draws people in and makes them want to impress her or be her confidant.
The room seems to settle down upon our arrival and the women rush to their seats. The gathered women sit down simultaneously, keeping an eye on my mother as she sits. I musthave missed the memo and am the awkward one left standing before quickly plopping down in my seat, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
The first course, which is a crisp, green salad with a lemon dressing, is brought out and the hum of conversation, thankfully, starts back up around the room. Seated at our table are a few of the ancient ladies of Easthelm, who are well respected but don’t offer much in the way of conversational company, and Mrs. LaRue with her twin daughters June and Samantha. June and Sam were in my grade at high school and made sure to ignore me every chance they could. I don’t see why now would be any different. They are both studying ballet at a fancy school somewhere out of state and were probably back visiting for the summer like me. I avoid eye contact and start to poke around at my boring salad.
“So, Delia, do tell us what your Hunt has been up to with the water management board? I hear we are moving forward with the drilling? How exciting!” Mrs. LaRue says as she claps her petite hands together in excited little taps.Such a suck up.I roll my eyes at my salad.
“Pfft if by exciting you mean disastrous,” I let slip, immediately regretting it as everyone at the table turns to stare at me.
“And whatever could you mean bythat,Nuria?” Mrs. LaRue questions me whilst scowling like she smelled something awful wafting by. I look to Delia for either guidance or disapproval but she has an unreadable mask on.
Right, I’m on my own here.I think to myself as I stare into her cool blue eyes. A glimmer of shock passes across her face before her mask of indifference snaps back into place.Did she hear that?My eyes widen for a moment before I address Mrs. LaRue.
“Only that draining the basin would steal the water out from under us. That water is what protects us from fire. We have already been facing unprecedented droughts and the dying of our flora and fauna at alarming rates because of the lack of water. The better use of our money would have been to createmorewater catchments… maybe even supplying each household with a water tank.” I can’t help my voice growing quieter and quieter as I explain the point I have been saying to my dad for the past year. He was never really present enough to hear me, always on a call or rushing off somewhere.
“Hmm what funny little ideas they seem to put into the heads of our youth at university these days,” one of the ancient crones croaks in response as she reaches over to pat my hand, as if I am a child who had an embarrassing outburst.
I wonder if Delia regrets adopting this one. She is so odd,I can hear her voice in my mind, not trusting whether it is my own frustration fueling my inner dialogue or the actual thoughts of the old bag beside me. I bite my tongue regardless.
Marissa places her cutlery daintily down on her plate. “Please excuse me ladies, Nuria, would you join me?” she says as she pushes up from her chair and heads towards the washrooms. Thankful for the out, I give the ladies my best decorous smile and a little nod before darting after her. Once I enter the washroom Marissa’s plastered on sweet smile has been wiped off for a frown.
“Come on Nuria, you've got to try harder out there. Reign in the savior of the planet crap. You know Mom is pushing for committee head in the fall and having a weirdo daughter won’t help matters. Besides, Dad is the one spearheading the basin drill. How does it look if his oldest daughter is rallying against him?” Marissa pleads, looking genuinely upset. I didn’t realize she cared so much about keeping up the pretense that we were a perfect little family. She’d always seemed pretty contentpretending to not know me when we were at the same school and now that she has had the place to herself for the past four years her social life seems to be soaring.
“What do you care what I say and do? It’s not like anyone takes me seriously. I swear everyone in there sees me as a charity case that Mom took on sixteen years ago. You’re the golden child, so they will barely look in my direction. Mom will get committee head whether I’m around or not to support her! I just can’t get behind this backwards town. There are signs all over the forest that we are destroying things and this drill is going to make it so much worse!” I start to raise my voice as the all too familiar feeling of being misunderstood washes over me.
“I do not see you as a charity case, darling,” Mom says from the now open door of the washroom. There is a look of hurt in her eyes. I didn’t hear her come in and I immediately regret what I said. “You are my child and quite frankly, after all we have been through, I would have hoped you’d believe that by now.” I do know she loves me in her own way but there will always be differences between me and Marissa.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a breath, trying to dispel my frustration. “Sorry Mom, I do… I just got caught up in the moment. These events are really insufferable for me. There is so much noise in my head. I need to step out. I’ll wait for you in the gardens,” I say, while heading for the door. I catch a knowing glance shared between Marissa and Delia; the glance that makes me feel like a nutter every time. I sigh and steel myself for the dining hall, hoping to make my escape without drawing too much attention.
I keep my gaze straight ahead to the exit door and my head held high as I walk slowly enough to not alert anyone to my rising panic but I get about half way when I can’t help but look at all the staring faces. It all starts pouring in.
What was she saying about her own dad’s project?
She thinks she is better than us.
Hunt is such a hottie. He probably has a mistress.
What an ungrateful brat.
Poor Marissa, how does she stand living with such a freak?
Delia should have sent her to a boarding school.
Is that a leaf in her hair? She’s so feral.
