I glance at my mother's reflection behind me as I face the mirror.
“Sorry,” I apologize. “Too much sun today on the beach.”
“I told you it was a bad idea before we allowed you to go,” my mother says.
Allowed.
It's not just a turn of phrase. I literally had to have permission to spend an hour on the beach today. I wasn’t even alone. The two guys hired to protect me against known and unknown threats are never far away. I’ve gotten used to them by now, but it’s still annoying that I can’t even be trusted to visit a beach without supervision.
My life isn't my own.
Every interaction, every second of every day, is orchestrated, scheduled for them. I should be used to it by now, but I'm not. I don't know if I ever will be. I can smile and play nice and tell people what they want to hear.
I can behave like a Southern lady is supposed to. I have been trained to do just that.
You see, my father is a Texas senator, and in less than six months, according to nationwide polls, he will be the president of the United States.
He will be the most powerful man in the world.
I'm not on this earth because two loving parents wanted a piece of each of them in one person.
They haven't said as much, but I'm smart enough to read the context clues. I know that my mother's pregnancy just happened to coincide with a time in my father's political career when there was chatter, whispers, and news stories that he was cold and indifferent. That he didn't care about the people that he promised to serve.
Having a baby fixed that. Having a baby turned him into a family man. Having a baby made him more relatable to the constituents in the state. They no longer saw him as a man with no roots. They no longer saw him as a man with nothing to fight for other than power and fame.
I haven't been abused. I haven't been mistreated.
But I also haven't had loving, doting parents, either.
I've been toldyou need to smile moreso many times I lost track of how often by the time I was five years old.
“The public is always watching,”my mother would warn.“Make sure you have that pretty smile on your face at all times. Be polite. Be nice.”
Be accessible without being attainable. That's what they expect from me.
Everything I've done, every concession that has been made, has been for them. I was homeschooled, so I wouldn't be stuck to a strict regimented schedule that public or even private education required.
My college degree in political science was obtained strictly online, other than a handful of times I was required to be on campus, and even those were scheduled according to my father’s plans, not the school’s.
It gave me the ability to be available to travel with my father and mother for various political requirements for his career.
I knew at an early age not to hope for a life of my own. I knew that a degree in political science wouldn't go any further despite most political science majors going to law school after they graduated with their undergraduate degree.
I'm expected to go to college, but I'm not expected to be a smart woman.
I'm expected to marry well, and that, of course, will just be another staged event for my father's political career.
I'm supposed to date but not fall in love. I'm meant to marry a man of my parents’ choosing, in a world of growth and opportunity for others.
Long ago, I stopped voicing my opinions.
I stopped asking for things that I needed or wanted.
It always fell on deaf ears. It was never good for my father or it was never the right time for his career for any of those things.
I date, or should I say, I’m seen dating, because I'm supposed to, because I'm told to.
Because it would be weird for a twenty-two-year-old woman not to be seen out in public with a man.