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I think she had to make him divorce his previous wife and leave his biological daughter behind, but that’s okay, right?
If Uncle Henry wanted them, he wouldn’t have left them.
They’re lower class,Mum said.They don’t fit with him like you and I do, Nicole. You’re lucky I made this life happen for us, so don’t screw it up.
I won’t.
I can’t.
I’mlucky.
So I don’t even talk about Papa. I miss him, but if I tell Mum that, she’ll be angry.
I don’t want her to be angry, which is why I can’t be a disappointment.
She’s done everything for us, so I have to lower my head and follow the rules.
That’s why I’m smiling at one of her friends now. Mum is hosting a tea party in Uncle Henry’s mansion and invited other powerful men’s wives and their children.
I took them on a tour earlier and showed them my toys. Uncle Henry bought me many of them—after Mum made me donate the ones Papa gave me.
She told me they’re cheap and not suitable for our current standing.
I hid one small doll that has peach-colored hair and a snow globe that Papa brought me for my fifth birthday. I don’t care if they’re cheap. I like them better than the expensive ones. It’s weird, but I can still smell Papa on them and it makes me calmer.
I hid them so the children won’t touch them. They can play with all the other toys, but not those two.
The whole time, I kept smiling and laughing and being the perfect child that Mum has brought me up to be.
“Nicole is so well-mannered.”
“She’s like an adult in a little body.”
“Mark my words, Nicole will grow up into a fine young lady.”
“Like mother, like daughter. You raised her so well, Victoria.”
That’s what all the women tell Mum, fawning over me as if I’m a miracle child.
A conservative, elegant smile pulls at her lips.
Everything about my mother is. Conservative and elegant, I mean. She’s beautiful—the most beautiful woman I know. Her blonde hair seems to be in competition with the sun on which can shine brighter. She always wears it in a neat French twist, which highlights the soft lines of her face and her full lips that she usually paints a light color.
I take after her in almost everything except for the eyes. Hers are a cobalt blue that appear as deep as the ocean and just as mysterious. Mine are green, muddy, like my papa’s.
Mum is like a goddess and I don’t think I’ll ever grow up to be as beautiful as her. Despite her appearance, she’s completely compliant with the aristocratic way of doing things. Which means she never enhances her beauty, wears red lipstick, or dresses provocatively.
Even now, she has on a soft green dress and a simple matching sweater. But she’s still the prettiest of all the women present.
And they hate that, so they talk behind her back. Once, we were at a charity event and when I went to the bathroom, I heard them call her a gold-digger and a whore who sells herself to the richest man available. Mum caught me listening and told me to go back to where the kids were.
Her expression didn’t even change, as if she didn’t hear them talk badly about her behind closed doors after praising her in front of everyone.
I think that’s how the world works. As Mum said, it’s best to never show your emotions in public.
It’s how she got this far after surviving an abusive household when she was young.
It’s how I became lucky.
