Page 59 of SnowBound

With my big dreams and ambitions, I was the loose cannon of their perfectly planned existence.

I would never settle for less than what I deserved and earned.

They knew it. If their lives pleased them, fine with me, but I wanted more for myself.

And even though we didn’t agree on it, I was nineteen years old and was allowed to make my own choices. As long as it didn’t interfere with my father’s political vision and my parents’ picture-perfect made-up existence that they showcased to their peers.

Here I was, standing in their driveway, four months pregnant, a single mother-to-be, and a college dropout, for now.

Everything that would kill them to acknowledge.

Before the school advisor shut down all my hopes, I had made plans to spend my summer in Silverville, working full-time. Not coming to Nashville to face what would be my parents’ wrath. And disappointment in me.

At this instant, I yearned for some love and compassion. For strong arms to wrap around me and a deep voice to promise me that things would right themselves.

And my parents’ acceptance.

With a straight back and chin held high, I knocked on the front door, fidgeting with the hem of my sweater as I waited for my mother to open the door. If I entered the house on my own, I’d get scolded. The day I moved to college was the day I became a guest in their house, according to them. I had called yesterday to tell them I would visit for some time, and it took them two whole minutes to agree. You would think being their only child, they would be excited to have me back after four months away. No. That wasn’t how the Peña household rolled.

No surprise arrival. And mostly, not coming home without prior announcement.

The door unlocked after my mother peeked through the lace curtain covering the window panel.

“Oh, it’s you,” she greeted me when she opened the door. As if she’d expected someone else. A lot of my happy childhood memories involved my grandparents, who were all deceased now. My granddad taught me how to ride a bike. My grandma cooked with me on the weekends or drove me to school. When I was little, my father had been busy, but he still made time for me in his tight schedule. Now, not so much. Unless I made an appointment with his secretary weeks in advance.

I fixed a curl on my lips. “Hey Mother,” I replied as I carried my suitcases inside. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. This was the most affection my parents were comfortable with these days. Even though it killed me inside to not be able to hug them like I used to. Right at that instant, I missed my grandparents. Because even though I had no idea how my parents would react to my pregnancy news, my grandparents, on the other hand, would have welcomed me and my baby with wide arms and even wider smiles. Their hearts had been so big.

Thanks to Tom’s sweaters, that Ellie gifted me, I was able to conceal the tiny bump my stomach had grown into.

“You should go and change. Into a dress,” my mother said, giving me a slow once-over, her short dark hair coiffed in perfect curls and held in place with a silver vintage hair brooch. The same way she’d been wearing it for years now. “Something more appropriate for a young lady like you.” In her mind, she only imagined me wearing floral pattern demure dresses under hand-knit cardigans, covering my shoulders, my chest, and my ankles. All at once. “Don’t become a temptation,” she had once said when I turned sixteen. Since I was a bit of a tomboy back in the day, I mostly wore shorts and T-shirts, to her great sorrow.

The carefree mother wearing denim cut-offs and a tank top over a bikini hadn’t been around for a long time.

Without another word my way, she dismissed me with her hand and turned around to return to her place behind the gas stove like she did every afternoon, as if I wasn’t even here. Right now, I wished I could have a drink. Or that there was booze in this house. Or a sibling. To fight alongside me when I needed to be heard. Because I had no idea how I’d even survive dinner time once my father got here.

Wasting time in my bedroom to avoid the inevitable for as long as I could, I sent Ellie a message. Even though I wanted to help prep dinner or set the table, my mother wouldn’t want me near her. She would tell me to go and freshen up.

Me:Home. Safe for now.

Ellie:Have you told them yet?

Me:Negative. My mother is not the show-your-emotions type. She barely said two words to me since I got here. The last time I visited, I got lectured for days about God’s vow to punish me for cutting my hair shorter than my shoulders, so imagine the shock later.

Ellie:Maybe they’ll surprise you this time. And be happy for you. After all, they’ll be grandparents. That must count for something, right?

Me:We’ll see.

I heard the front door open and the distinctive sounds of my father’s footsteps. Which meant dinner was served, not a care in the world that it was only five-thirty.

Me:Wish me luck. My father just arrived.

Ellie:Call me later, okay? I wanna know how it went down.

Me:Yeah. If I’m still alive. Later xx

“Abigail,” my father greeted me when I entered the dining room, already seated at the end of the table, looking like a king about to rule his kingdom. His jacket had been discarded on the backrest of an empty chair. And his sleeves rolled to his elbows, displaying the expensive golden watch around his wrist. His burgundy tie was swept to the side, a cloth napkin covering the front of his button-down shirt. My mother looked just as perfectly put together in her white blouse, pearl necklace, and mid-shin black pencil skirt. Standing at the other end in a pair of leggings, which used to belong to Ellie, and her boyfriend’s sweater, I didn’t look the part.

Again, I was a big contradiction in their existence.