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“Darling, there’s nothing that needs to change. This isn’t something new. Sheila’s been around for a while. It’s just something I’ve learned to deal with. I’m just… I’m sad you had to find out is all.”
“Wait, back up,” I demand. “You’ve known about this?”
She wipes at her tears. “Darling, marriage isn’t easy, okay? I know you can’t understand at your age, but you will. And sometimes for the life we want, we make sacrifices. Concessions.”
I shake my head. “I hate you,” I whisper.
“Sage,” she replies softly, but it’s no use.
I’m gone in every way that matters.
Tears fall now, but this time they’re from my eyes. I hate that I’m crying, hate that I expected so much more from two people who are clearly so emotionally clueless.
“How could you do this? Don’t you have any pride?” I ask, shaking my head through the tears.
“Dear, it isn’t about pride. Like I said, it’s about image. It’s about this life we have. Sure, there are some negatives, but overall, the positives make it worth sticking around.”
I think about all the things I want to say, but instead, I spin on my heel, stomp up the stairs, and slam the door. She doesn’t come after me. She never does.
I bury my head in the pillow, shattered and pissed that I’ve let them crush me. I shouldn’t be surprised. So many things about my parents, this house, this family, are a façade. I guess just knowing the depth of the façade is a bit depressing.
Everything is a lie. They are a lie. The kisses, the midnight strolls on the beach, the summers in Manhattan exploring the city—it’s all a lie. Dad’s having an affair, and Mom’s letting him. How sick is that? I might not know a lot about love, and I might be young, but I know that isn’t what love looks like. And for what? Her image? Her money? The family legacy? What legacy is that?
I cry myself to sleep that night, mourning over a family, a truth that was never mine to have. And when I wake up, I shake it off like I have so many other things. I look myself in the eye in the mirror, studying my frizzy locks and smeared makeup.
I make two promises.
I, Sage Everling, will not depend on my family for my success. I will do it myself. I will find pride in who I am and pride in chasing my passions while standing on my own two feet.
I will not let love take hold of me like it did my mother. I will not let my pride be shattered by a man. I will own my passions but not let them own me.
From that day on, the end of my relationship with my parents began, the fast unraveling of a thread that was always fraying. And, from that day on, Sage Everling, the woman who relied solely on herself, began her trek into the foreboding world, determined to make her mark in her own high heels and never settle for a life lived for someone else.
* * *
That fourteen-year-old girlwould be proud, I think as I stare at the cover of a popular magazine. My photograph is on it, a sultry, serious pose I’ve become known for. The headline reads “Ocean City’s Bachelorette Strikes Again With New Line.” I should be thrilled to have a headline in a magazine, to have snagged this opportunity. I think my fourteen-year-old self would be proud of the confident, independent woman on this cover who did it all on her own.
Still, sitting here staring at the cover, thinking of all that’s transpired, I see something I haven’t quite detected before.
Loneliness.
Since that revelation in my mother’s kitchen that night, I’ve been terrified to lean on another. I’ve been terrified to give up my passions like my mother did. I’ve been terrified of becoming a dependent housewife willing to look the other way and destroy her pride for the man she married.
Looking at the cover, I know I haven’t done that. I’ve succeeded in avoiding those fates. Still, I wonder what I’ve sacrificed to earn that accomplishment—and how will that sacrifice affect me going forward? Have I failed to strike a balance between the two sentiments and, thus, done the very thing I was afraid of doing—selling my life out and losing out on a sense of fulfillment?
Maybe the convictions we settle on at fourteen aren’t necessarily the beliefs we should shape our entire adult life around. And maybe that’s on me and not my parents, I realize, the thought shattering any sense of confidence I had that I’m living the right way.
