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I spend the rest of my day looking for jobs and then lying by the huge infinity pool out back. I’m lucky because my family is very wealthy, and as a result, I don’t have to work per se. But I want to because doing nothing is frying my brain. I literally feel like I’m getting dumber by the minute from lack of stimulation.
Still, being rich has its benefits. We live in a huge mansion in New Jersey, with a landscaped backyard that really should be classified as a park. I have my own suite of rooms on the fourth floor, and it’s pretty easy to avoid my parents most of the time. Except during meals, of course. Victoria and Malcolm still require us to get dressed and come down for a “family dinner” even if the social interactions are utterly excruciating.
Tonight is no exception. I bump into my sister at the head of the stairs, and she gives me a sympathetic look.
“Was last night that bad?”
I roll my eyes.
“Even worse than you think. You’re lucky Samuel Coleman doesn’t have a younger brother because you know that Victoria and Malcolm would be trying to set you up.”
My sister shudders, her brown curls trembling.
“I need to get out of here before that happens,” she mutters as we descend the staircase. “This is just totally wrong.”
Then, we enter the dining room of our huge manor. It’s decorated in dark, flat colors, which I understand is all the rage right now. As we move forward, I feel like I’m walking into a designer cave with lavish window swags, monstrous chandeliers, and a huge mirror over the solid oak table. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living in a fun house and not an actual home because there’s only one reason to have a house kitted up like this, and it’s to impress other people. But does it? I can’t imagine that this even photographs well for interior design magazines.
Nonetheless, it’s not my problem. Victoria and Malcolm are already waiting at the table with expectant looks, and hurriedly, Mags and I take our seats as well. This is all par for the course but when I sit, my parents exchange a glance and I get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like there’s something they know that I don’t.
Nonetheless, as the food is served, I start telling them about my date last night. There’s no reason to hold back because I want them to know just how inappropriate Samuel Coleman is.
“So yeah, isn’t that horrible?” I conclude. “They had to wheel him off to the ambulance, and the medic asked me for my contact info. I wouldn’t be surprised if the hospital calls again, just to finalize some details.”
But my parents are eating with faces of indifference. My sister looks rightly horrified, but Malcolm and Victoria seem to be enjoying their food. What’s going on? How can they have no reaction?
My father clears his throat. “Well, I remember being in my twenties, and it was a riot. I had to get a lot of stuff out of my system before settling down.”
My mother shrugs. She shrugs!
“Lots of young men in their twenties need to sow their wild oats,” she agrees, nodding at my father. “Samuel’s twenty-five now? Something like that?”
Dad nods.
“It’s a struggle at that age to find yourself, and many young men experiment. No harm, no foul. It’s just boys being boys. I, for one, think we should all give Samuel the benefit of the doubt.”
I drop my fork with a loud clatter and my sister flinches at the sudden noise.
“Benefit of the doubt?” I manage in a strained voice. “Samuel overdosed on drugs at a fancy restaurant while we were on a date. They had to call 9-1-1. How can you give him the benefit of the doubt? What does that even mean?” I ask, squinting my eyes with disbelief.
Victoria sighs.
“You’re being overly dramatic, Prim,” my mom says. “That’s a little over the top, don’t you think? Besides, you know we’re good friends with the Colemans and I talked with Samuel’s mother, Marianne, while your father talked with his father, Fred. We all agree it’s best for you and Samuel to get married soon. This is just a small hurdle to cross.”
The dining room is utterly still, the silence ringing in my ears. There are no utensils scraping across dishes, no pouring of wine, and no chewing even. My pulse thrums in my ears as the vein at my temple throbs.
I speak in a calm, steady voice, even though my emotions are clawing at my stomach. “Excuse me? You must be joking right?”
My sister looks rightly horrified, so I know I haven’t heard wrong, but Victoria merely shrugs and starts talking again. “He’s a lovely boy, and we’ve known his family for years now. Plus, you know the Colemans own Backgammon Sugar and it’s been in their family for generations now. Imagine that! You could have a lifetime supply of sugar if you married him! Of course, because Samuel is still recovering from his accident —”
