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“You have no idea what my family is capable of.”
He exits the room without another word, leaving me here alone.
My heart is beating incredibly fast as my chest rises and falls, making it difficult to breathe. The ill-feeling in my stomach rises, forcing me to run to the bathroom, where I vomit profusely into the toilet. I hold back my tears, not wanting anyone to notice since everyone is downstairs.
In the marquee, we’re forced to stand side by side to sing Happy Birthday to Bentley. Our façade masks the pain of the truth unveiled moments earlier, to which no one notices any different. If there’s one thing this family does well, it’s put on a show like nothing in the world is wrong.
When all is said and done, Eliza places Bentley in his chair as cake is served to all the guests. Rosemarie pulls me aside, away from Bentley, as Benedict stands beside her with cold eyes.
“My son has just informed me of the wondrous news.”
I tilt my head in confusion, thinking this can’t be true. Has Benedict mentioned our marriage is over?
“What news is that, Rosemarie?”
“Of your acceptance for Bentley to attend boarding school when he turns five. Now, the headmaster is a very good acquaintance of mine, so securing a place will be of no concern. I’ve already placed his name down.”
My mouth slackens as my muscles begin to quiver. With wide eyes, my gaze darts to Benedict to see a satisfied smile on his face. Lightheadedness causes me to sway for just a moment, but then I finally find the strength to open my mouth.
“Excuse me?”I question with a strained voice. “Did you say boarding school?”
“Yes, my dear. All the Banks men have attended boarding school. It’s only right to do so,” Rosemarie insists with her head held high. “Bentley is English. It’s expected he’s raised in a proper manner.”
My fists clench into a ball, the rage consuming me. The only shade I see is red, and even then, it’s dark, almost like blood. If this woman thinks she can have any say in how my son will live his life or be raised, she’s in for the shock of her life.
“Bentley is my son!” I yell as people turn around, stunned by my outburst. “I don’t care what your stupid tradition is. I did not, nor will I ever agree to this.”
“Young lady,” Rosemarie scolds, gritting her teeth. “We do not raise our voices in public.”
“We don’t do it in private either,” I argue back.
The second the words register, Rosemarie’s face stiffens. The stare is cold, and I’m half expecting her to slap my face like some dramatic movie, but as she raises her hand, she moves it toward her chest, clutching her heart.
“Mother?” Benedict calls, his brows furrowing. “Mother?”
Rosemarie winces over until she collapses on the ground as everyone gasps.
“Someone, call an ambulance!” Benedict yells.
A fluster of panic circles around me, yet I stand here frozen, watching the woman I despise with all my being, the woman trying to take my son away from me, lie on the floor with a broken heart.
Benedict tries to talk to Rosemarie as a guest who happens to be a doctor rushes to her aide. I quickly instruct Eliza to take Bentley upstairs, not wanting him to see any of this, then ask the guests to stand back so the doctor can attend to Rosemarie without everyone watching on.
I don’t know how long we stand here until the ambulance arrives. Rosemarie is conscious but barely able to speak, and her skin has turned pale. Upon placing her on the stretcher, she reaches out for Benedict and his brothers, who stand around her. I choose to stand back, allowing them to wheel her out to take her straight to the hospital.
* * *
The corridors inside the hospital are stark white with a sterile stench in the air. I’m sitting on the hard plastic chair, waiting for any news. It’s been over an hour, and not one single person has come out.
I pull my phone out of my purse, quickly calling Eliza to make sure Bentley is okay, wishing I was with him, especially on his birthday. Eliza FaceTimes me so I can at least say good night to him, my heart extremely heavy from today’s events.
As much as I want to hear Andy’s voice, calling or texting him seems inappropriate while my husband is worried sick about his mother. Instead, I decide to call Kate to inform her of the news and exactly what happened.
“Oh gosh, Jessa,” she calls softly. “This isn’t your fault, okay?”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. Despite her saying it isn’t my fault, why do I feel like it is? If I hadn’t raised my voice and yelled at Rosemarie, perhaps the heart attack could’ve been avoided.
“I humiliated her…” I choke, barely managing to say the words, “… in front of her family and friends. That’s all I seem to be doing lately, destroying everyone around me.”
