“I don’t need a man to fulfill me,” Rose sneers. She points at my mother with her champagne glass, the liquid sloshing onto the floor. She hardly notices.
My mother inhales, her collarbone jutting out and cheeks caving in. “You’re so na?ve, Rose. You think this world is going to respect you? You’re living in a fantasy,” she nearly spits. “Women like us have a figment of power. In the end, we’re all marionettes to men. Accept it now.”
Rose’s nose flares, her cat-colored eyes piercing. “Lily is with Lo,” she says. “Why would you ever cause her such pain and make another man escort her?”
“This again?” she snaps.
“Yes,” Rose retorts. “This again.”
My mother sighs. “What if Lo never returns? What if he chooses to be single by the end of this? I am creating a backup plan for her. I’m giving her options.”
Her words sting my chest, and I hardly notice Aaron laughing about something with my father, as if they’re long lost buddies. Lo will return. Won’t he? He will come back to me. He’ll want me…but the doubt festers in my soul. And I try to rid it with a confident nod, but I’m not feeling so assured right now. Not when my mother has zero faith in the man I love.
“Options?” Rose shrieks. “You’ve never given any of us an option. You know what option I would have liked? The option to disown my own mother.”
“Stop it,” she snaps. Her chin raises, but I can tell she holds in a breath, a sign that Rose’s words have truly started to infiltrate and infect and seep and hurt. “I helped you grow your company.”
“And you never let me forget it,” Rose sneers. The door cracks open, but no one notices Connor Cobalt slipping in except me. He has on an expensive tux, but his equally expensive smile is locked away. He wears a dark frown and stands guard by the door, watching Rose with serious, calm eyes. I am so grateful he’s here. Because I’m scared for Rose. I’m not sure how to calm her. I’m not sure what words will take away the pain of tonight.
I wish my mother could hear what Rose is saying. I feel like she’s screaming to be heard, but no one can understand. No one gets it. I stand up, about to go to her, but Aaron grabs my hand and tugs me back down. He says something to Jonathan and wraps his arm around my shoulder.
I’m too fixated on my sister to push him off and start an argument over here. Connor crosses his arms over his chest and glances at me. He looks at Aaron, and he’s about to come over but I shake my head and mouth, her.
He hesitates and nods to me in acceptance.
“What do you want from me?!” our mother yells. “I’ve been there for you your whole life!”
“I want you to say you’re wrong! I want you to apologize for this evening and for putting me with Matthew Collins and for thinking I’m a tool that a man can use and dispose. I’m your daughter!” Rose screams, angry tears burning from the corners of her eyes. “You’re supposed to love me by telling me that I’m beautiful and I’m smart and no man is good enough for me. You’re not supposed to tell me I’m worth less than I am.”
My mother inches forward a little. “Can you listen to yourself, Rose? We’re at an event for your father’s company, and you’re making it about you. You think you’re a woman? You’re acting like a child.”
Rose stares directly at our mother. Unflinching, unwavering. And very coldly, she says, “Go to hell.”
My mother’s hand flies and connects with Rose’s cheek, the slap heard like a gunshot in the lounge room. Jonathan, Aaron and my father go silent.
Rose drops her champagne glass, and it shatters on the marble floor. She stares in a trance at the ground, as though she felt nothing when the contact was made. My heart hammers so hard that the only thing I hear is the pulsing in my ears.
I have never seen my mother hit anyone. Maybe because I spent most days with Lo. Maybe because I haven’t been attuned to the happenings of my family. But the shock strikes me cold. I don’t have the same relationship with our mother that Rose does. We’re not hostile towards each other. In fact, we’re…nothing really. I say hi, she asks me how Lo is, and we move on.
I don’t wish for this. To be silently boiling, having to restrain myself from spewing hateful words and from feeling a hand sting my cheek. No one would ask for that. And I want to take Rose away from it, but she’s twenty-two.
The damage is done.
I think we’re all old enough to feel the scars of our upbringing. Now we just have to find a way to heal.