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   Chapter 4 Mothers And Alligators

I Like Your Shoes By Sivani Yasashree Characters: 6040

Updated: 2018-09-21 13:04


"And this job of yours, will it make you more likeable?"

"No."

"Will it gain you a Royal status in the society?"

"No, Mother."

"Find a suitable husband for you?"

"No."

"Then, why exactly did you accept this job?"

I was tempted to say that it was the freedom I lacked under her roof that compelled me to take up the job, but I couldn't dare, of course not.

My mother, Bathsheba, stared at me with her eyes narrowed, her hands on her narrow hips, her ruby red lips pursed in concentration and disgust. I stared at my fake rose studded sandals, not daring to look her in the eye.

When it came to dodging my mother at an argument, I'd grown into a professional over the years. There were just three steps, really:

1. Don't look her in the eye.

2. Answer with a simple 'Yes' or 'No', never speak more than those monosyllabic words unless you want your tongue cut off.

3. If anything you do fails, run away, making sure to run in a zigzag manner to confuse the predator.

I learnt the third rule from a documentary called 'what to do when hunted by an alligator.'

"Well?"

I decide to play it safe and remain silent.

"Ambrosia Bellemore." She says curtly, clicking her plain black heels with impatience.

"Well, mother, it felt like a great opportunity. And it's something I'm passionate about, so it's easy money." I finally blurt out.

The moment I utter easy and money together, my mother's eyelids start twitching incessantly. I gulp audibly.

"Easy money, you say? How easy exactly?" She asks with an evil smirk.

Oh my God, she thinks I'll sleep around to get money.

A flare of anger ignites inside me, a little part of me tries to extinguish it, but a larger part of me holds onto it until every part of me is seething and an angry red.

"I'll be working in a publishing company, mother. Where I'll be reading and editing books, not that you know what reading is." Barely holding on, I manage to spit the words through my teeth.

"You, young lady, have no control over yourself. I knew you'd grow up and follow your father's footsteps." I didn't expect it to be a compliment, not when my father had left her for another woman. I don't actually blame him though; I think he finally had had enough of zero fat breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"I'm not like him, mother. I just want to do whatever I want with my life!" I throw my hands skyward in frustration.

"Do what? Take a miserly job when you could've easily become a doctor, just like your sister and me?" She's spitting out the words venomously.

"I'm not obligated to become a doctor just because you are! I hate blood, and I hate you! I'll never be like you!"

"Being me is better than being this smart-mouth, idiotic…"

Before she could complete her scathing remark, the door to the living room opens slightly. The narrow, bony face of my sister, a perfect replica of our mother's, peers in with barely concealed anger.

"You both are at it again?" She accuses, alternating hard scowls betw

een the two of us.

My mom runs a hand through her already perfect platinum hair. If I didn't know her better, I'd have said she looked almost sheepish.

"No. Just talking." She says, smoothening her pencil skirt that's already too perfectly ironed.

Neave eyes me strangely, and I give her an almost genuine, yet sarcastic smile. Her eyes narrow. She doesn't say anything though, and turns her attention back to mother.

"Mother, I've something to tell you." Then, she grins.

That should have been my warning that something bad was going to happen.

"Ambrosia, leave us." My mother orders curtly, and I turn around to leave the room.

"No, let her stay." I turn back around again.

"Very well. Tell me what it is."

"Mom, I'm getting married."

Boom.

I expected my mother to shriek at her, to shake some sense into her. To tell her that it wouldn't gain her status, reputation and it wouldn't make her more likeable.

But she just looked at her calmly for a minute before asking, "What does he do?"

"He's a doctor I worked with in Seattle. A Neuro Surgeon." I had to give it to Neave; she managed to say the words without looking like her pet fish had died.

"How old is he?" Is this some interview or something?

"Thirty." My sister was twenty five. I wanted to shout that she was crazy to get married to a man five years older than her when our mother does something I'd never seen her do in my twenty two years of existence.

She hugged her.

I'm sure my eye balls rolled out of my sockets and landed somewhere around my feet.

"I'm so happy for you, Neave. You've found your match."

I had to interrupt her then.

"And how do you know that?"

"You would never understand. Look at your sister, she's a doctor, and has managed to capture a reputed man's heart. What have you ever done?"

"Oh, I'm going to work in a reputed publishing house and make money, probably snare a reputed man myself." I say haughtily.

Big mistake.

My mother eyes me from head to toe, but I will myself not to look away. I won't back down now.

"Can you, now? Well, I'll see you and your reputed man at Neave's wedding then, if you manage to find one, that is." She says with a smirk. I nod slightly and turn around to walk out of her room.

"Where are you going?" Neave asks, following me outside.

"New York."

"Wow. You actually managed to get rid of her, didn't you?"

"I did. But I don't think I can find a man to bring to your wedding." Let's just say that I wasn't very experienced in the male department.

"Oh you can. You can bring a dead slug. As long as it's rich, mother wouldn't mind." She laughs, and I can't help but join in.

"Neave?"

"Yes, Am?"

"You love this surgeon dude, right?"

"Absolutely. Paul is a sweetheart."

"Of course he is. What did he do to win you over? Brought your roses every day and gave you little letters expressing his deep, pure love for you?"

"Oh my God, yes he did! How did you know?"

I shrug. "I have my ways."

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