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“What brings you here?” my father asked, after a long, uncomfortable silence.
“My family has a house by the lake,” Lucas responded.
“I know that, I meanthere.” He paused. “With our daughter.”
Lucas looked to me for a lifeline, but I was just as bewildered as he was. I stared blankly at him, noticing his expression turn sour.
“Well, sir, I’m here because… because I love your daughter. And Sophie.”
“Hmm,” muttered my mother. My father did not respond.
“Does that answer your question?” Lucas asked, the restraint in his tone becoming more palpable.
“Sure,” said my father, almost indifferently.
It was here that Lucas stood up. “Thank you both for your hospitality, but I’ve got to go,” he said. He offered no further explanation, and my parents didn’t demand one. He turned on his heels, grabbed his coat, and left.
“Lucas! Where are you—“
But I heard the front door close behind him before I could finish my thought.
I turned to Sophie. “Sweetheart, it’s bedtime. Be a good girl and go upstairs to your room, okay?”
“But, Mommy, I’m not tired—”
“Sophie,” I said, struggling to maintain my composure until she was out of earshot. “Bed. Now. Please.”
Awkwardly Sophie got out of her seat, kissed everyone in the room goodnight, and I watched her as she scuffled up the stairs to her room.
Then, I turned to my parents, furious. “What the hell was that?”
Neither of them immediately responded, rather, they looked at each other as if planning what to say next telepathically. This went on for several seconds.
“Natalie,” my mother began, finally. “I’m sure that man is—”
“Lucas,” I interjected, my voice heavy with bitterness. “His name is Lucas.”
“Fine, Lucas. I’m sure he’s perfectly fine, and I have nothing against him…”
“But,” my father continued, as if rehearsed. “We can’t help but feel like you…”
“Like I what?” I was on the edge of my seat, my fingernails digging softly into the wooden dining table.
“Like you’re only with him for his money,” my mother finished.
For a moment, I didn’t respond. Then, before I could stop myself, I laughed out loud. My parents, who had expected quite a different reaction, looked genuinely horrified.
“You must think I’m so pathetic. That I have nothing better to do than find a man to take care of all my money troubles.” I paused before I said what I said next. “You’re no better than the townspeople.”
My parents looked at one another again, their expressions ambiguous. But then my father frowned slightly, and my mother stared solemnly into her glass of wine.
“That’s not it,” my father said. “Sweetheart, you know we only want the best for you. You know that. But all this—” He gestured to the expensive gifts Lucas had brought: Italian red wine, French cheese, Spanish olives. “Nat, this isn’t you. You have a family that loves and provides for you, and keeping Lucas around for the things he can offer you, it’s just not right.”
“You’re wrong,” I said, through clenched teeth. “You don’t know how wrong you are.” I stood then and looked up the staircase to make sure nobody else was listening. Then, overwhelmed by a deep sense of injustice, I faced them again. “You know nothing about my relationship.”
My father sat up in his chair. “Enlighten us, then.”
“Well, how’s this… He’s Sophie’s father.”
