“Well…” Could my family offer any helpful advice on my dilemma? Stranger things had happened. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. “I had a buyout offer from Slips ‘N More. They want to give me a million dollars for the rights to my designs and my name.”
Mouths dropped open around the table, and my dad stood, enfolding me in a bear hug and slapping my back. My mother was looking as radiant as if I’d said that I was marrying an eligible bachelor tomorrow, and Brian and Coral both looked as if they’d swallowed whole lemons.
I’m honestly not sure which reaction pleased me the most.
“Wait,” I tried to protest as my dad squeezed the breath out of me, “I’m not sure if I should take it!”
“’Course you should take it,” my dad bellowed. He gave me another celebratory squeeze. “Chance of a lifetime! Who else is going to pay you a million bucks for panties?”
And just like that, all my good feelings evaporated like morning dew in the desert.
“You really lucked into this!” he went on, taking his seat again. “Can’t pass it up. Would be criminal.”
“Your father’s right, Katherine,” my mother agreed, patting my hand. “And this offer might not last long. You should snap it up while you still can. Before they change their minds.”
Were they right? Was I being foolish? I gripped the edge of the table, assaulted afresh by all the voices of my past, telling me I had no talent, no hope, no chance—
One million dollars—
Snap it up while you still can—
No hope—
“Yeah, snap it up,” Brian echoed, a nasty grin on his face. “For all we know, they probably got you confused with some more successful designer. Wait too long and they might realize their mistake.”
“Good for them, bad for you,” Coral agreed with a smirk.
And just like that, everything became crystal clear.
Anger sizzled through my veins like electricity as I carefully set down my fork and stood. “You…complete…assholes.”
“Katherine, language—”
“Don’t ‘Katherine, language’ me, Mother,” I said calmly, measuring out each word as if they were knives I was drawing from sheaths. “How hypocritical is it that you care about a few swear words, but not about the language that tears me down every time I come to visit? Maybe I get a little crude, but you! You all come at me with sentences like scalpels, trying to slice away everything I feel good about—”
“My girl, we just want you to—” Dad interrupted.
“What, Dad? Be somebody else? Change everything about myself so you could have the kid you want instead of the kid you got? Well, newsflash, everyone, I’ve been trying to do that for twenty years now and I’m not trying anymore. Hey, another newsflash: I’m not that fuckup kid you remember. I’m a grown woman who runs a successful business, but you’re too busy tearing me down to notice that, aren’t you?”
“‘Successful business’ is pushing it—” Brian began.
“It’s a damn sight more successful than anything you set your mind to,” I shot back. “What have you had, ten different jobs in the last five years? Oh, but they’re all corporate positions so that’s just fine. Personally, I don’t give your marriage any longer than your stint at that paper company, but I’m sure Mom and Dad will support you in whatever you decide to do. They always do that, don’t they? Funny how all that support seems to have gotten used up by the time they get to me.”
I took a deep breath, knowing it was too late to back off now, refusing to meet the eyes of the shell-shocked people around me. The pain was still there, deep down, flaring up underneath all of my anger, and I let it come out in my final words.
“None of you have ever taken me seriously. None of you have ever supported me emotionally when I needed you to. I’ve had it with your hypocritical, condescending, undermining bullshit. I’ve never acted this way toward any of you, and God knows Brian has never had to deal with it no matter how many times he’s fucked up.”
In reply there was only a resounding silence. Had I gone too far? Well, too bad.
“Katherine—” my mother began, and then fumbled to a stop. “Katherine—”
“Oh, and you know what, Mother?” I said. “Guess what’s the least helpful thing when your daughter’s broken up with an emotionally abusive stalker, and is trying to concentrate on staying sane and following her dreams? Could the answer be the constant overwhelming pressure to find a man, any man, before she hits some arbitrary age limit?”