Colors of Love: Gen. 1.9

My parents talked as if I weren’t in the room. I expected a lecture, yelling, something, but instead they were trying to problem solve. Every once in a while they’d look over at me. Dad had drunk three tumblers of whiskey, and was pouring a fourth. He rarely drank unless it was for social reasons. This was bad. Worse than I imagined.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Dove, you’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t fix this. Sorry won’t make the fact that my daughter is about to single-handedly tank my reelection. How could you do this to me? To your Mother? To Cotton?”

“Cotton? COTTON!? Why? Why is he always more important than your own child Dad?”

“Dove, don’t you raise your voice at your Father.” 

         

“Dove don’t talk unless we tell you. Dove don’t think unless it’s a thought you’ve been given. Dove don’t have feelings unless it’s ones we approve. Dove don’t have your own wants, dreams, desires!”

“Dove that is quite enough!” Dad yelled. “I understand. You feel like we’ve been too controlling with your life, but can you blame us. Look at the mess you got yourself into when you tried to be in control. If anything it’s reaffirmed we’ve been on the right path.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wouldn’t have been so eager for a taste of freedom if you hadn’t smothered me with your goals in life. I don’t want to be a politician’s wife! I don’t like Cotton and he sure as heck doesn’t like me. You would consign me to a death sentence because it fits in with what you want in life?”

“Angel, talk some sense into your daughter.”

“Dove, darling you’re being dramatic. Cotton is a fine young man and he’ll make an excellent husband. Your father and I had a similarly arranged situation and we’ve made it work. Mutual respect that’s turned into affection.”

I quit trying to argue. It didn’t matter what I said, they didn’t care about what I wanted. They didn’t care about whether I was happy in life or not.

“This whole thing is just a minor setback. We’ll take a trip and handle your situation. We’ll say it’s a mother, daughter retreat.”

“Handle it? Handle it how?”

“Dove do I need to spell it out for you?”

“Yes Mother you do.”

“You can’t expect to have this mistake.”

“No!”

“No?”

“No! I won’t do it and you can’t make me.”

“You’re still a minor.”

“Regardless I still have some say in medical decisions. I learned that on that young doctor’s panel you forced me to attend. No doctor, no matter how much you pay them, will do anything without my consent! And if you try to force me I’ll go public.”

They both looked shocked at my threat. I’d never stood up to them like this before, but with or without Tyrian I wanted the freedom dream he’d sold me. 

Update 10