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Sitting beside them was almost painful. It was like a chill had settled over me, and it was in that moment, that I knew that the outcome of this would not be the one I so desperately wanted.
“When… did you um… get back?” my mother asked politely as she pushed her food around her plate. It was a salad, of course. A lady dare not eat anything in public that might see her looked at as vulgar or messy.
“A few days ago,” I answered, fiddling with my hands beneath the table.
“Oh,” she said, nodding as she placed a small lettuce leaf in her mouth.
My father cleared his throat as he placed his knife and fork on the table. “Does Peter know you’re home?”
My gut twisted, I’d hoped for at least a few moments with them before that name reared its ugly head. “No, and he does not need to know.”
My mother’s face twisted unpleasantly. “He is your husband, Anna. You’ve hidden yourself away from him for almost six years. He deserves to know if you’re back, so the two of you can sit down and—”
“Wewill notbe sitting down to do anything,” I whispered sharply, needing them to hear me, but at the same time in the back of my mind not wanting to disrespect them. I pulled back my shoulders again as they both stared at my outburst in shock. “Peter and I have nothing to discuss. We don’t work. We shouldn’t be together. That is that.”
“Oh, Anna. Stop being dramatic and remind yourself of what that man did for you,” my mother scolded while my father continued to enjoy his thick bleeding steak. “So there were problems before, you’ve both grown up now, and the mature thing to do would be to sit down and discuss your relationship like civilized adults.”
They were oblivious, completely ignorant to Peter and the man that he was behind the mask. I wasn’t angry at them for not knowing. I guess that fell on my shoulders for never telling them, assuming that they would opt to take his side over mine.
The more I thought about him, the sicker I felt. I needed to get this over and done with and get the answer I needed so I could walk away with my head held high, and never again questionwhat if?
“I was wondering if you’d like to meet my little girl, Harlyn?” I finally managed to spit out. As the words spilled, I felt like I was releasing some kind of heavy weight from my shoulders.
I saw the look they shared, one that spoke volumes over any words they could ever say.
No, they didn’t want to meet her.
No, they didn’t want her to be a part of their lives.
No, she wasn’t good enough.
It angered me, filled me with disgust that they could so easily throw away this small child. A gorgeous little girl who they’d never had any contact with or even seen pictures of, but that was essentially a part of them.
My father swallowed, picking up his napkin and wiping at his mouth before setting it back down on his lap. “A daughter?” He was trying to swallow back his shock, I could tell.
“How old is she?” My mother’s eyes watched me suspiciously, her body still and frozen.
I took a deep breath. “She’s almost six.”
Her eyes shot open, obviously not having to take time to do the math.
“Anna! You took Peter’s child away from him? I thought I’d raised you better,” she hissed under her breath as her eyes scanned the room to make sure no one was within listening distance.
I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “You did, and that’s why she’s not his.”
My mother’s hand flew to her chest, gripping her delicate black chiffon shirt in her hand as though her heart might stop at any second.
My father’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t speak a word.
“How… how could you be so disgraceful!” she gasped. But it wasn’t disappointment in her eyes. No. Disappointment I could handle. At some stage, during our childhood, we’d all made bad decisions that disappointed our parents, but those were quickly resolved or forgotten. This wasn’t one of those times. No. The look in my mother’s eyes was one of complete shame and embarrassment.
“Think about that child. How are you going to support it by yourself and give it everything it needs? How incredibly selfish of you. What if she has—”
“Shewill get everything she needs becauseshehas a loving father and an amazing family,” I argued, clenching my fists below the table.
“Who?” she demanded.
I didn’t answer, staring directly into her eyes, mine slightly narrowed, daring her to piece together the thoughts in her head and come to a conclusion.
