Page 131 of The First Taste
“Unless you have a check for the whole amount, I’m not interested. And I know that you will never have that kind of money. I mean, look at yourself, Kaia. You’ll never be worth anything to anyone outside of this family.”
My cheeks burn. He’s right, of course. It does seem impossible.
I sneak a glance at my mother. She is chewing quietly, looking at her plate. No help is forthcoming from that quarter, not that I’m the least bit surprised.
My dad clears his throat and shoots me a glare.
“You’re using the wrong goddamn fork. Did I not send you to cotillion and spend my hard earned money on you learning basic table manners?” He shakes his head, disgusted. “You should be a lady, like your sister.”
I arch a brow at Hazel. She smirks at me, piling her fork full of potatoes. “Yeah, Kaia. You should at least try, even if we all know you’ll fail. You can’t help the fact that you suck.”
“Don’t say suck at the table,” my mother corrects Hazel stiffly. “Kaia hardly ever comes home. Why don’t we all change the subject to something more upbeat?”
My father, ever the drama queen, stands up to make his point. “I’ll talk about whatever I damn well please, Serena. I put food on the table and clothes on the backs of everyone present.”
My mom gives him a soft smile. “Of course you do, honey. Thank you for all that you do for us.”
Hazel and I mumble thank you as one.
My father sits down. “You’re welcome. Just the other day, I was telling the guys in my foursome at the golf course about how much I do for my family. I said that you had all found me and thanked me within the last few days. Doug called bullshit, and I had to set him straight.”
He shovels food in his mouth, talking anyway. “I said Doug, just because no one is thankful for what you provide doesn’t mean that the same can be said about yours truly. Maybe my family is just better at showing gratitude than yours is.”
I school my expression into one of interest. But underneath, my guts churn. This is exactly why I don’t come home if I can help it. It always plays out the same way.
My father makes crude remarks. My sister eggs him on. And my mother supports it in the most non-confrontational way she can.
I do the best I can for the rest of the visit. That means I nod when I’m supposed to agree and only fill in details when asked. I revert to the person I was years ago, back when I still lived here full time.
I try to blend in with the wallpaper and not draw attention to myself. My father and Hazel shoot spiteful comments at me. I try to dodge them and not let the barbs hurt me.
That’s the only way I know of to get by in this house.
At last, as the sun starts to set, I get ready to leave. My mom hugs me hard. Hazel makes some snide comment about how I’m putting on weight.
It just makes me really, really tired.
At last, I go over to hug my father. It’s important that he see me as a doting daughter; anything more than that is considered rebellious.
“Bye, Daddy,” I say, kissing him on the cheek.
He grabs me by the shoulders, staring down into my face. “You had better ace your audition with New York Ballet, Kaia. I haven’t supported you for this long just to have you falter when the goal is within reach.”
My eyes widen. I blink convulsively. “Yes, sir.”
“I mean it,” he says, giving me a sharp shake. “I won’t have you taking some position with some far away place. You have trained for too long and cost me too much money to just blow it. You had better be the best damn ballerina they have ever seen. Or else.”
The menace in his tone gets heavier the longer his sentence goes on. My eyes fill with tears, but I won’t let them fall.
“Yes, sir.”
He waves me off like I’ve displeased him. I grab my backpack and I’m out of the front door like a rocket. I’m almost out of the yard before I hear my mother’s voice.
“Kaia!”
I slow, then turn back. She stands in the doorway, wringing her hands. There seems to be something that she wants to say.
There always seems to be something left unsaid with her. Several seconds pass as she tries to make up her mind about what she wants to say.
