“Even if I wasn’t wearing yoga pants, you’d criticize my hair, skin, or makeup. Or the way I sit or eat. It makes me feel like…” I swallowed. “It makes me feel like I’m never good enough. Like you’re always disappointed in me.”
If we were discussing our issues, I might as well lay it all out there. The blackmail issue was the straw that broke the camel’s back, but trouble in the Lau household had been brewing for years, if not decades.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother said. “I say those things because Icare. If you were a stranger on the street, I wouldn’t bother trying to help you improve. You’re my child, Vivian. I want you to be the best you can be.”
“Maybe,” I said, my throat tight. “But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like you’re stuck with me as your daughter and you’re making do.”
My mother stared at me, genuine surprise shining in her eyes.
I knew she meant well. She wasn’t deliberately malicious, but the tiny cuts and barbs added up over time.
“Do you want to know why I’m so hard on you?” she finally said. “It’s because we are Laus, not Logans or Lauders.” She emphasized those names. “We’re not the only new money family in Boston, but we’re the ones who are looked down on the most by the blue-blood snobs. Why do you think that is?”
It was a rhetorical question. We both knew why.
Money bought a lot of things, but it couldn’t buy off inherent biases.
“We have to work twice as hard to get an iota of the same respect as our peers. We are criticized for every misstep and examined for every flaw when others get away with much worse. Wehaveto be perfect.” My mother sighed. With her flawless skin and immaculate grooming, she usually passed for someone in her late thirties or early forties, but today, she looked her full age.
“You’re a good daughter, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you’re not. I criticize you to protect you, but…” She cleared her throat. “Perhaps that’s not always the right approach.”
I managed a laugh through the tears crowding my throat. “Perhaps not.”
“I can’t change entirely. I’m old, Vivian, no matter how good my skin looks.” She gave a small smile at my second laugh. “Certain things have become habit. But I can try and tone down my…observations.”
It was the best I could ask for. If she’d offered anything else, it would’ve been unrealistic at best and inauthentic at worst. People couldn’t change entirely, but effort mattered.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “For listening to me, and for standing up to Father.”
“You’re welcome.”
An awkward silence descended. Heartfelt conversations weren’t common in the Lau household, and neither of us knew where to go from here.
“Well.” My mother rose first and smoothed a hand over her elegant silk dress. “I have to check on the soup for dinner. I don’t trust Agnes’s chef. They put too much salt in everything.”
“I’ll shower and change.” I paused. “Is Father…will he be at dinner?”
The trip would be a waste if he locked himself in his room and avoided me the entire time.
“He’ll be there,” my mother said. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Two hours later, my father and I sat across from each other at the dining table, him next to my mother, me in between Agnes and Dante.
Tension suffocated the air as we ate in silence.
He hadn’t looked at me or Dante once since he entered. He was furious with us. It was obvious in the set of his jaw and the darkness of his scowl. But whatever he had to say, he didn’t say it at the table with my mother and sister present.
Dante ate languorously, seemingly unaffected by my father’s silent rage, while my poor sister tried to make conversation.
“You should’ve seen the interior minister’s face when the royal cat ran across the stage,” she said, recounting a story from the palace’s Spring Ball. “I don’t know how it got into the room. Queen Bridget was a good sport about it, but I thought her communications secretary would have a stroke.”
No one responded.
Meadows, Eldorra’s royal feline, was adorable, but none of us particularly cared about her daily adventures.
Someone coughed. Silverware clinked loudly against china. Deep in the house, one of the dogs barked.
I cut into my chicken so hard the knife scraped the plate with a soft screech.