And now, Esther was telling her that it was all for nothing.
“Emily, this isn’t the end of world,” Esther said, though clearly it was the end of something. “Your father and I have discussed this, and we are in agreement.”
“Oh, if Father says it, okay.”
Esther ignored her sarcasm. “What you will do is bide your time. You will stay in the house, keep yourself out of the public eye, and then, when enough time has passed, we will come up with a way to reintroduce you into the world.”
“You want me to stay locked in the house for eight years?”
“Stop being dramatic,” Esther said. “You’ll have a confinement until the baby arrives. You may walk in the back garden or, when school is in session, up and down the street. You should maintain a healthy exercise regime.”
Emily heard the practiced tone in her voice. She could see her parents hashing this out late at night, Franklin pacing the room with a glass of Scotch in his hand, Esther making a list of what Emily could and could not do, neither of them bothering to question what their pregnant daughter wanted.
The same way they had decided on her behalf that she would carry this baby.
The same way that they were making her leave school, give up graduating, defer college, postpone her life.
“And then?” Emily asked, because she wanted to know what else they had decided.
Esther seemed relieved by the question, which she clearly inferred as consent. “When the time feels right, your father and I will start taking you to functions. Something easy at first, only with our people. We’ll choose those who are most amenable to your reintroduction. Perhaps once the child is old enough, you could get an internship. Or a secretarial position.”
“You’re such a hypocrite.”
Esther looked more amused than insulted. “I beg your pardon?”
Emily was tired of keeping all of the thoughts in her head from coming out of her mouth. It was exhausting to be considerate, especially when no one—ever—thought to be considerate to her in return.
She told her mother, “You preach from on high about how important it is for women to be strong. You project this sense of invincibility. You let everyone think that you’re fearless, but everything you do, every choice you make, is because you’re afraid.”
“I’m afraid?” Esther huffed a laugh. “Young lady, I’ve never been afraid of anything in my life.”
“How many times has Dad hit you?”
Esther locked her in with a steely gaze. “Be careful.”
“Or what?” Emily asked. “Dad will give me another bruise? He’ll twist Gram’s wrist until she shouts? He’ll drag you up the stairs by your arm and beat you with your hairbrush?”
Esther did not look away, but nor did she see Emily.
“You are so terrified of what people will think of you,” Emily said. “That’s why you stay with Dad. That’s why you want to lock me inside the house. You have wasted your entire life trying to act the way they want you to.”
“My entire life,” Esther mocked. “Pray tell, who is they?”
“They is everybody,” Emily said. “You wouldn’t let me get an abortion because they might find out. You wouldn’t let me pursue adoption because they would use it against you. I’m being forced out of school because they told you it was time. You act as if you are in complete control of your life, your legacy, but you are terrified that they can take everything away from you at any time.”
Esther pursed her lips. “Go on. Get it all out.”
She was acting like Emily just needed a punching bag when Emily was deadly serious. “I’m not suffering the consequences of my actions, Mother. I am suffering the consequences of your cowardice.”
Esther raised an eyebrow, the same way she did when she was humoring someone.
“You’re a hypocrite.” Emily was repeating herself, but now, the words felt like a revelation. She had never before spoken to anyone so plainly. Why had she been so silent for so many years? Why had she worried so much about saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, making the wrong people upset?
What were they going to do?
Emily stood up, fists on the table. “You have this amazing gift of willful blindness. You think you’re so smart, so clever, but you never see the things that you don’t want to see.”
“What don’t I want to see?”