“Zaria.” My mother’s voice comes from my bedroom door. It’s tight with annoyance, and I know that when I turn to look at her, I’ll find the same pinched expression as she glares at me.
“Yes, Mom,” I finally respond and glance her way.
Her arms are folded in front of her chest. “Why aren’t you ready yet?” The clipped words cause me to wince. I look over at the dress she expects me to wear and I can’t help but shiver.
“I think this outfit is a bit—”
“It’s a designer gown,” she tells me curtly. “You’ll wear it and you’ll sell it with your figure. I’ve asked Damiano to make sure that every nuance of the dress showcases your figure.” My mother is the complete opposite of Dad. She’s convinced that women should marry for money and learn to love their husbands. Also, she’s of the mind that I’m ready to walk out into society and display my assets, so I can find a suitor who’ll be worthy of her approval.
“I just don’t—”
“I wish you’d listen to me for once and stop playing to your father’s wishes. I’m a woman in this world that’s filled with men who want to control every aspect of our lives. If you were to marry into the right family, you’ll be able to offer some semblance of intelligence to your husband’s fortune.”
I want to fight and argue, but I know it’s no use. When she’s in this mood, my father ignores her and spends most of his time at the piano. It’s how I learned to play.
“Sure.” It’s all I can say before she leaves me to get ready. I slowly slip into the soft pink dress that leaves my back completely bare. The skirts fall to the floor, covering my feet, while the front has two straps of material that cover my barely-there breasts. I’m uncomfortable. I don’t like this, but I know if I were to try to push back, she’d find some way of guilting me into it.
Sighing, I slip on my shoes and make sure my hair is still falling in soft waves down my back. Thankfully, Mom hasn’t forced me to wear any makeup. So once I’m ready, I make my way down the stairs to find Dad in the music room. It’s empty except for the enormous piano sitting against the one wall. From the small bench, you can look outside, taking in the manicured gardens beyond.
He stops playing as I enter and looks me over. I can tell from his furrowed brows he doesn’t like the dress. But instead of saying something, he smiles. “You look a vision, darling,” he says as he pushes to his feet and comes toward me. He presses a kiss to my forehead, his hands holding onto my shoulders.
“We’re going to be late,” Mother says from the doorway. There’s a sense of anxiety that hangs in the air between my parents, and even though I’m not sure what it is, I know that it’s not good. My father’s grimace is enough to confirm this, and when I glance at Mom again, she’s rolling her eyes and turning away.
“Is something wrong?” The words fly from my mouth quickly, as my gaze flicks back to the man who’s been a rock to me. All my life, he’s been there. When I skinned my knee, when I broke my arm, even when I first got my period, he was the one who got in the car and took me to choose tampons. My mother was far too involved in her social circles to worry about a daughter who needed advice.
“No, darling,” Dad says as he wraps a strong arm around my shoulders. “She’s just stressed.” But even as he says it, there’s a hint of pain lacing his words. It was in that moment, I knew if my mother were to ever walk away from my father, I would choose to live with him.
“Okay.” Even as I say the word, it feels like a lie. It’s not alright for him to be so tense on my birthday. And it’s most certainly not okay for my mother to treat him, or me, like she does. But no matter how difficult it gets between them, my father doesn’t walk out.
We make our way in silence to the venue, which my mother had organized. I’m sixteen. It’s time for me to be introduced into society. With Los Angeles being so focused on social status, we’re having one of the biggest parties in the city to celebrate.
The moment the car stops at the venue, my heart kicks against my ribs. It’s a painful reminder that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m about to walk into a party with fake friends and people who would rather see us burn than help us survive. My mother’s friends aren’t real. Their smiles are nothing more than masks they slide into place to ensure my father’s business will partner with them.
Being one of the most influential information technology companies in the world, they hunger to be in a seat at his table. He has the money, the influence to buy and sell companies, and as he branches out of hospitality into retail, there are whispers about how he got his money. Nobody wants to believe it’s hard work; they would prefer to ride along on the gossip train.
I follow my parents onto the red carpet. This isn’t a birthday party for a sixteen-year-old girl. Not a normal one anyway. This looks more like a movie premiere. With celebrities, music stars, and politicians lining their way into the immaculate ballroom, it’s as if I’m a second thought to everyone here, but my father. He reaches behind him, taking my hand as he pulls me beside him.
Inside, the decorations shimmer with crystal and gold. My soft pink dress matches perfectly to the silk drapes and tablecloths that adorn the room. My mother has always had a good eye for detail, and even her sleek gold dress that hugs every inch of her curvy figure is perfectly suited to catch attention.
Flashes go off as I move through the crowd. Thankfully, my father holds my hand all the way through the room until we reach the bar. Even though I’m not old enough to drink, he orders a mimosa and hands it to me. He doesn’t realize I’ve been sneaking his alcohol for almost two years. I found the numbness it brought a welcome distraction.
Eyes land on me as they watch me move through the ballroom. Mostly it’s my peers. People my age, as my mother likes to point out. I’ve never been great with large crowds, and this group is worthy of the anxiety twisting in my gut.
“Don’t pay attention to anyone,” Dad whispers in my ear. “You’re here to be celebrated, and every bastard in this room has agreed to attend because they know how special you are to me.”
“What about Mom?” I ask as I gesture toward her, where she is already charming the guests with her perfectly-sculpted lips. My mother has been a fan of needles and surgery since I was thirteen. I recall the first time I saw her after a nose job; it was scary. I didn’t recognize her for months. And when she finally healed from it, I still didn’t see my mother. What came out of that hospital was a stranger, and since then, I’ve never felt further away from the woman who gave birth to me.
“She’s mingling,” my father murmurs, but he plasters on a smile and draws me with him as we make our way to the table that has been set specifically for my family and close friends. My name shimmers on the small, thick card that sits at the center of a long setting, and I slip into my seat.
It won’t be long now. Once my father makes a speech, dinner will be served, and I’ll be thrown to the wolves… so to speak.
My gaze drifts across the room, only to land on a man in the distance. He stands on the threshold of the room where he watches my mother. I know he is looking at her because his face is enthralled. She is beautiful, even though most of it is paid for.