Champagne Toast (16 page)

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Authors: Melissa Brown

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How

s Ethan?

my mother asks
,
as she places her porcelain tea kettle on the stove. Doing my best not to roll my eyes, I correct her.


Evan,

I say as kindly as I can.


Oh, that

s right,
Evan
.
I apologize,

she says in her prim and proper voice. I want to climb the walls. How on earth was I raised by this robot?


He

s great

wonderful, actually.  We

re very happy
.” 
I smile.


That

s nice. Do you think you might marry him?

Of course, that

s all Angeline cares about, when I

ll marry and how much money his family will have.  Oh, and she

ll be all about planning the wedding.  Too bad she

d drive me into a mental institution.  It

s not that I haven

t thought of marrying Evan.  It

d be incredible.  But, when I think about it, Richard and Angeline Armour aren

t even in attendance.  It

s just Evan and me on a beach with a judge.  I

m wearing a flowing dress, and he

s wearing whatever the hell he

d want to wear.  He

d look perfect in anything.  No family, no friends, just us making promises to one another. Not at all what Angeline has in mind.  She just wants me to get my

MRS

degree like she did and marry a wealthy lawyer who will take care of me while I have his babies and clean his house.  No thanks.


I don

t know yet if we

ll get married.


Oh that

s right, you

re not exactly the marrying kind,

she says, a snide tone appearing in her words for the first time during this uncomfortable visit.


What does that mean?

I ask incredulously.


Well, you do have a track record, Kate.  You don

t share much with me, but I know you hop from boy to boy.  I

ve paid attention over the years.  You seem
. . .
what
’s the word? 
Restless.


Well, that

s part of my past.  Evan is my future.


If that

s true, I

m happy for you,

Angeline says, raising an eyebrow and pouring two cups of tea.  She sits across from me and stirs her cup with her dainty teaspoon.

What does Evan do for a living?


Right now, he works with me at the bar
—”

A look of disappointment covers Angeline

s face.  She doesn

t look a bit surprised, though.
  “
Kate, when are you going to learn that these are not the men you want to settle down with?  Do you want to be married to a bartender?

  If she weren

t my mother, I

d want to punch her in the face for being such a snob.  And for thinking that Evan is any
thing
less than wonderful.


Mother, with all due respect, you don

t know Evan.  He

s a student like me, and he

s studying marketing.  He

s even started interviewing with some big companies.
He

s very driven and motivated.  If we were to get married, he

d take very good care of me, of both of us
.” 
Why on earth am I defending Evan to her?  Why do I even care what Angeline thinks of me or my relationship with Evan? 
She doesn

t matter, Kate.
  But, she does.  And I know it.


Well, that

s nice, darling.
You know your father and I just want what

s best for you,

she replies.


And for me to be happy, right?


Pardon me?

she seems confused.


And you want me to be happy, don

t you?


Well, of course.  What a silly thing to say.


Actually, it

s not silly,

I say, taking a deep breath before continuing.

Here

s the thing, Mother.  Evan makes me happy, but so does photography.  I
’ve been using my dark
room a lot lately, and taking all sorts of photos.
Evan gave me this amazing camera.  I

m thinking I

d like to do this, you know, professionally
.” 

My heart is racing and anxiety is sweeping through me.  I

m so afraid of where this conversation might lead.
But, I have to persist.  They are the only chance I have.  Even though my parents don

t have a lot of money, I

m hoping they

ll have something to give me since I

ve paid for my own college education.


Oh, yes, I remember you used to love taking pictures on that camera your uncle gave you.  And your father bought you that machine last year.  You

ve always been so artsy, it

s hard to keep up with your hobbies, Kate.
One year it

s painting, the next photography.  I figured you

d moved on to something else by now
.” 
God, how her words sting.
She doesn

t take me seriously, not at all.


It

s not a hobby.  It

s my passion and it has been for three years now.  I

d like to make it my career.  But, I need your help
.” 
I

m barely able to get the words out, but I do my best to remain strong against her judgmental face.


Whatever do you mean, darling?  What do you need from
me
?

She looks defensive already;
she knows I

m about to ask for money.


Well, starting a business can be costly, and I

m basically spending all of what I make at the bar on living expenses.  I was hoping you and Dad would agree to give me a loan.


I don

t know,

she begins,

this is really something for your father to decide, not me.


Why
not
you, Mother?  It

s your money, too,

I say, wishing I had bit
ten
my tongue. This conversation is going nowhere quickly.


You and I both know your father makes all of the money decisions in this household, and I wouldn

t have it any other way.  If you

d like me to talk with him about it, I will.  But, I have to be honest,
Katherine
, I don

t see him offering you anything.


Why?

I hate the way she says my full name.  It makes the hair on my arms stand up.  She only uses it when she

s being condescending.


You

re not exactly a good investment,

she deadpans.

Did my mother actually say those words to me? 
I

m not a good investment?
  Is she fucking kidding me?  Who says that to their daughter?


I

m not asking you to invest in me, Mother, I

m asking you to lend me money so that I can make something of myself doing the one thing I love to do.


The one thing?  Hardly.  Kate, you have been a pianist, a sculptor, a painter and a songwriter.  You were bound to be a photographer at some point, but it

s highly unlikely that you

ll stick with it.  It

s not how you operate, my darling
.” 
Her words are like venom.  My heart is shattering within my chest.

My eyes are quickly filling with tears as I come to the horrid realization that my mother has no faith in me.  She thinks I

m a flake, someone who never follows through.  Does she not know me at all?  Or am I living in denial?  Maybe she knows me better than I know myself
. . .
maybe Evan is the one who doesn

t know me at all.  He

s been pushing me to pursue this, telling me how talented I am, encouraging me to pursue my passion.  What if he

s
lying
to me? 

What if Angeline Armour is the only one willing to tell me the truth?


I have to go,

I say, quickly wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes before my mother can see them.


Kate, darling, please don

t go.  I wasn

t trying to hurt you.  I was just being honest.


I know, Mother, it

s fine.  I

ll be in touch soon,

As I

m walking to my car, Evan sends a text: 
W
here are you babe? I’m about to head to your place

Flustered from my horrendous conversation with Angeline, I quickly form a lie:
Shopping with Bree
,
be there in 30

He doesn

t respond, but I

m so preoccupied over my disheartening conversation with my mother, I don

t think about him during my drive.  I just hope he

ll be at my place when I get there.  I need to feel reassured, to know that I

m not kidding myself.
That Angeline is wrong about her daughter.  But, by the time I reach my apartment, after stewing for thirty minutes, I

m convinced that she

s absolutely right about me.  I

m kidding myself if I think I can ever pursue a career in photography.  Evan

s in love with me, and therefore, being sweet and supportive.  He

s being a good boyfriend.  My mother knows me better.  And so anger begins to rise in my chest.  I need to get it out.

Walking into my apartment, I hear music playing and smell something cooking in the oven.


Hey,

Evan says.  Something in his eyes looks off.  His brow looks knitted and the corners of his mouth are turned down.  If I didn

t know better, I

d think he was mad at me.  Great, just what I need.


Hey,

I reply, unsure of what else to say.  I

m too pissed to look him in the eye, so I take off my coat and walk to the kitchen to see what he

s cooking for dinner.

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