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Out of my mind and into reality.
I am not the water.
I’m something else.
More than water.
The woman at my side sees me as a pawn in her game, a plastic piece to be maneuvered in the right direction, and now, she’s plotting to send me straight toward a new prize.
Foster.
My—
Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like mine anymore.
He’s her choice.
We are just water to her—pretty and pristine and contained within the glass of her making.
“You’re almost perfection,” my mother says proudly.
“I’m more than water,” I say just above a whisper.
“What’s that, Evelyn?”
“I’m more than water!” I shout, surprising even myself, garnering everyone’s attention at the table. “I’m more than water.”
She nervously laughs, making light of my obvious temper. “I don’t understand.”
“No. You wouldn’t. You understand nothing about me.” As gracefully as I can muster, given the angst pumping quickly through my veins, I empty myself from the seat and take my clutch into my hand. “Excuse me. It’s best if I leave.” I glance in Foster’s direction. “This was a mistake.” I address Foster’s parents, “It was good to see you again.” I turn to my mother. “I’m not a prized mare for breeding. And you likely don’t want to hear this, but I won’t be getting my MBA from Yale or any other college. So, you can stop pestering me about it. It’s done. I’m not going.”
“Evelyn—”
“If you cared about my happiness at all, you would know why.” I step around where she’s seated and pause in front of my father. “I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t ruined anything.”
With those last words, I turn on my heel and hastily exit the room. My body quivers with elevating adrenaline levels. I quicken my steps in hopes of alleviating some of the jitters. When I’m almost at the host stand to retrieve my coat, I’m alerted to hurried footfalls trailing behind me.
“Evelyn,” Foster calls. “Wait.”
I pause in my tracks and wait for him to catch up.
“Hey…” I utter with measured control.
“You didn’t say good-bye.”
“I’m sorry. Good-bye, Foster.”
I step away, and he grabs my arm, not allowing me to leave.
“We need to talk about this,” he insists.
“I’ll apologize to your parents and mine about my behavior. I’m sure a note will suffice.”
“No,” he stresses, “it was good to see that. It was killing me to watch you so…muted.”
“I should go.”
“I’ll go with you.”
