Audrey
Today's vocabulary word: notions
I stared into my closet,waiting for it to solve all my problems, but it only invented more. I didn't have the wardrobe for a convincing fake engagement.
Not helping: my mother, yammering on about my flaws and failings while I tried to find the right look for conning my old boyfriend's sweet mother.
"I'm making a simple request, Audrey. I don't know what's so difficult about that."
My mother was absolutely livid that I'd ditched Brecken, the guy she'd so artfully orchestrated for me to meet after the Aldyn Thorpe reunion and who I'd bailed on to see Jude. Though it was worth noting thatlividfor my mother took the form of stiffly worded statements and the kind of long, frigid pauses that could freeze your fingertips off.
I could hear her pacing in the kitchen in their Hamptons cottage—which was not a cottage at all but a garish estate filled to the brim with horrible antique reproductions. Her designer slides clacked against the stone floors as she rattled off a list ofall the ways I was selfish and impractical, forever rejecting the guidance my parents offered.
It amused me to no end—inwhat the hell is my lifeandeveryone here needs massive amounts of therapyways—that I continued to be the most disappointing black sheep in the family pasture. It didn't matter that I had a comfortable home and friends and a good career. That my digestive system wasn't trying to kill me and I didn't feel like a living ghost anymore. That I was content with the cozy life I'd cobbled together for myself. That, by all relevant standards, I was doing okay.
Normal parents would be thrilled. My parents…were not.
For reasons that only made sense in my parents' warped worldview, a thirty-five-year-old divorced daughter who wasn't closing in on a new husband was a plague on the house. Being single at my age just begged too many questions for their comfort. It would've been so much easier on them if I'd fall in line and marry another subhuman demon spawn who fed on souls and private equity buyouts.
They missed the days of my blind obedience more than anyone, but what they really missed was the fear. There'd been a time when they could truly scare me into compliance.
There wasn't much of that left in me anymore.
"It's not a good look," she went on. "Men like Brecken Wilhamsen do not wait around. Certainly not for divorcées."
She saiddivorcéeslikesociopaths who couldn't be left alone with the family pet.It was fitting as far as her faux-righteous bizarro world went.
After my father's tenure in the attorney general's office, he took over a think tank that concerned itself with aggressively rigid notions of family values and maintaining American traditions. The gig came with buckets of money and a long line of wealthy, powerful people tripping over themselves to curry favor or gain connections.
It also came with a ruthless yet skin-deep commitment to those wind sock values and traditions. Two-dimensional portraits of an idea of perfection.
"I'm not sure why my look is a problem since it's just a friendly lunch," I said. "It's not like I'm trying to make something happen with him."
"You might not be but I am!" she whisper-yelled.
I tuned out the rest of her tirade while I pulled items from my closet for Arizona. That breathless urgency about lunches and social obligations and the things people were saying about us just didn't matter to me anymore. I wasn't sure it'd ever truly mattered but I used to be able to play along well enough to escape my mother's notice.
This time, though, instead of delivering her greatest hits album— "Don't you understand I'm only trying to protect you?" and "Is it that hard to do this one thing for me while I'm still alive?" and "Can't you see how delightful Cassidy's life is with Holter? You could have the same thing if you tried a little harder" —she breezed right into announcing she'd already made plans for another visit with Brecken for next week. Right in the middle of my fake engagement.
"Wait just a second," I said. "I'm not available for that."
"I believe you are," she shot back. Translation:You will make yourself available or you'll face the consequences.
"No, I have plans with friends." Not strictly accurate but she'd have to torture the truth out of me. If ever there were two things that didn't go together, it was Jude and my parents. "Look, Mom, I don't want you sending me on pseudo-dates."
"I'll move it to the next day if you're suddenly so busy."
"I am unavailable," I said, overenunciating every word. "And more importantly, I don't want to be set up with these random guys."
My mother did not appreciate that. She huffed and sniffed and slammed a few cabinets—a real feat considering she had premium, quiet-close doors.
"You need to get serious about where your life is going," she said. "You've had your fun as a single girl. You've floated along with this experiment in independence for several years and that's more than enough. It's obvious to me that you won't do what's in your best interest, so, once again, I'll do it for you."
I held my boundaries quietly. "I don't think that's necessary."
"If you had any idea what was necessary, you would've stayed with Christopher!"
Okay, maybe this boundary would need to be a little louder. "With the man who emotionally abused me for six straight years? Staying with him wouldn't have helped anything."
