Bitter

Bitter by Bell



“It’s got to be done.”

“Yes, but how? We’ve gone over this, Marjorie.”

Marjorie paced the Oriental carpet as she thought. How could it have come this far? The relationship was never encouraged. The willful independence! How dare she? How could she?

“We simply must make it clear, Mason. No help will be given. No engagement parties, no wedding, no honeymoon. They certainly can’t pay for it. She must come around to reasonable thought. When she does, it may take some time, but people will come to forget this little faux pas. Maybe even, given enough time, Jonathan will again look her way.”

“A faux pas, Mother? Is that what you would call a marriage between two people who love each other?”

Marjorie turned to see Kate at the threshold of the room.

“Darling, of course that’s all it is. It’s something you’ve taken from books, from too many years at girls’ schools. It’s fine to dream about, but that isn’t what marriage is really for. Be reasonable, Darling. We can’t have you walking down the aisle in a peasant dress next to this, this…”

“Freak, Mother. That’s the word I believe you’re looking for. All you see when you look at him are piercings and tattoos. You will never look to see the kind, caring person behind them. You only see what you know your friends will see. Just yesterday he wrote me the most beautiful poem. Let me get it, Mother. It’s right here in my pocket. You must read it. He’s really a gentle and beautiful person. You’d see that if you took the –“

“Put it away, put it away. I don’t want to hear any love poems written by him.”

“Come now, Marjorie. I enjoy a good limerick.”

Mason’s chuckling abruptly ended as he heard the familiar reprimand from his wife.

“Mason!”

It was all it took. Trying to bolster his wife’s argument, he turned to his daughter in all seriousness. “Be reasonable, Katie. You’ll go to hell in a handbasket with this boy and all his cronies.”

“Mason, don’t be vulgar!”

Mason had done all he could. His wife was in charge, and he knew it. He turned his attention to his newspaper and ignored the battle between his wife and daughter.

“Mother, please,” Kate whispered a plea as she began to cry.

“Mother, please,” Marjorie scathingly taunted.

The tears flowed freely now, but Kate’s voice was clear. “It’s the last time I’ll ask, Mother. If you won’t support us, that’s your choice. You can’t bully me any more. I really couldn’t care less about engagement parties or receptions. I just would love it if we could have a relationship beyond this theatrical performance dictated by the social club biddies of the community. I’m finished, Mother. You won’t change my mind. Even without him, I would be done.”

Dumbfounded, Marjorie watched her leave the room. It was over. All her sacrifices were for nothing. Her work was undone. Just like that. There would be no recovering from this. They would cease to be invited to events. No one would come to their own. They would be a laughingstock. And Marjorie would be stuck with him. She looked over at Mason reading his newspaper. She remembered the conversation she had had with her own mother nearly 30 years before. She had been a good girl. She had listened. Now, look what she had. The right husband and the wrong life anyway.