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“Is there a reason you’re calling?” I swallowed back a different, likely more hurtful reply.
“I’ve just had lunch with Christian’s mother.”
Oh, great.
“She said Christian is in pieces, Whitney. You broke his heart—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” Her overly sweet tone and faux concern for Christian set me off, so I continued, “Christian isn’t in pieces. He’s honestly lucky that I haven’t ripped him into literal shreds after how he treated me this semester, Mom.”
“What on earth do you mean by that?” she snapped, each word dripping with disdain for me and not the man in question. “Was the ring he proposed with this summer not big enough, Whitney? Did he not treat you like the queen you think you are—”
“What is it about him, Mom? Why were you and Dad so insistent I stay with him? Marry him. Chain myself to him—”
“What would you have done otherwise? Work?” Her laugh echoed through the phone. “Whitney, darling, what has gotten into you? We were supposed to be planning your wedding, not waiting on you to finish a master’s degree. Good heavens. And now? You break up with Christian because your sorority sister is in love—”
“He was cheating on me.” I let the words sink in. “With Nicole. For how long, I don’t know. But I know she’s likely not the first and wouldn’t have been the last. He also manhandled me repeatedly in public and made our relationship everyone’s business for years. I was sick of it. I never wanted to be with him, and I never wanted to marry him. If me deciding to be happy is enough for you and Dad to practically disown your own daughter, then there is no reason for this call.”
“You’re a spoiled, ungrateful brat!”
“And you have never been proud of me a second of my life.” The tears were coming now. “I’m getting a master’s degree, Mom. I’m going to be a doctor one day—”
“Of what? Sociology? Your precious art history, or whatever it’s called? Living in some crappy condo in Boston and wearing tweed and sweaters? We didn’t raise you like this.”
“You raised me like chattel to be traded for your own social gain. Are you ready to admit it?”
The line went quiet for several moments before she said with icy calm, “You’re not welcome back to our house as long as you continue acting out of turn.”
“I wouldn’t want to go back anyway.”
“We always gave you whatever you wanted—”
“Then you should have realized that the only thing I wanted was some support from you and Dad.”
“You don’t understand the mess you’ve made.”
“There is no mess. If you’re willing to take a look outside of your small world, you’d see that everything you’re worrying about right now means nothing. I am your daughter, and you’d rather me be trapped in a loveless marriage than pursue—”
“What kind of life do you want, Whitney? Do you want to be poor? Having to scrape by? Or do you want to be able to do whatever you want—”
“I don’t value the same things you do—”
“You’ve always thumbed your nose at us. All of my friends have these perfect, obedient daughters who marry well and, I might add, on time. You, on the other hand, have been nothing but a pain in my side since the day you started talking. If you want to remain in our good graces, you’ll pack up that shitty dormitory you’re squatting in and come home and fix things with the Brockford family before it’s too late.”
“No. I won’t.”
“Whitney Dahl—”
“What am I doing wrong?” I whispered, then hung up the phone and tucked my knees into my chest. I tossed my phone to the end of my bed and ran my hands over my face, willing myself not to cry.
My mom called me three more times, but I didn’t answer. For years, I’d bent to her will and done everything she asked, and I still wasn’t good enough. I didn’t think I could ever be what she wanted.
I had to draw a line somewhere, and I’d done so this past summer when I turned down Christian’s proposal. I should have been firmer, telling him and my family that I didn’t want to be with him period, not just wait until after I graduated with my master’s.
If I had, I wouldn’t have let this situation fester into what it is now.
I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on my knees. I knew I’d be fine. I had a little bit of money. I had a roof over my head and a TA job lined up for next semester. It wouldn’t pay much, but I wouldn’t have to dip into my savings just to survive.
Then I’d graduate. I could get a job and work while I pursued my doctorate, and doors would open for me. Doors that didn’t require dropping names or marrying into another rich family to access.
