Page 98 of Santa Has a Six-Pack
“How nice,” I say politely, bracing myself for what I know is coming next.
“Forgive me,” Matt says, leaning forward. “But what is ABT?”
“American Ballet Theater,” I explain.
“Ah.”
“That’s where Eileen spent her heyday as a dancer,” my dad says proudly.
And she never lets me forget it.
It was always my mom’s hope that I would follow in her footsteps, becoming the prima ballerina she was in her youth. Ballet was never for me, though. I loved tap, jazz, and musical theater. And I was great at all of them. You’d think having a daughter who was cast in a world-famous show like the Spectacular Kickettes would make a parent proud. But not my mom. My “silly” show was never quite good enough for her.
Just as I expected, she launches into her pitch. “Marjorie mentioned they are interviewing for new board members at the ballet. Seems like the perfect opportunity for you, dear, now that you’ve aged out of dancing.”
She’s always doing this, trying to get me involved in her social circles, pushing me toward the high society positions she sees as “worthy.”
Worthy of her, that is.
At that moment, something shifts in me.
Maybe it’s having Matt by my side tonight that makes me bold. Maybe it’s seeing that she and my dad are still stuck in their destructive patterns, and I am finally choosing to be free from mine. Or perhaps she’s just pushed me one too many times.
Whatever the reason… I am done.
“Enough, Mom!” I say. I turn to her “friend.” “Marjorie, I mean no disrespect, but I have zero interest in joining your board. I never have and I never will. Forgive my mother. She has a bad habit of trying to relive her glory days through me and guilting me mercilessly when I don’t comply. But it must be a Christmas miracle, because I’ve finally run out of fucks to give, so I’ll no longer be entertaining her coercion and condescension. You’re off the hook, Marj.” I lean closer to her, but purposely speak loud enough for my parents to hear. “Oh, and a word to the wise? Watch your back at this party. The guys can get a little handsy, if you know what I mean.”
I steal a glance at my dad, who instantly stares down into his martini like it’s fascinating.
Marjorie’s jaw drops slightly at my little speech, but to her credit, she simply nods and excuses herself from our drama as quickly as possible.
Girl, I don’t blame you. If I could get out of here right now, I would too.
My mother is fuming.
“How dare you?” she says when I turn to her.
“No. How dare you?” I toss back. “I’m not your little show pony that you can dress up and show off however you’d like, Mom. I allowed it when I was a child. Hell, I allowed it in my twenties. But I am a thirty-two-year-old woman now. I have my own wants and dreams that have nothing to do with you!”
“Since when?” She scoffs. “Last I checked, you worked retail for over a decade while you let your life and youth pass you by.”
“What did you just say to her?” Matt takes a step forward.
“I said?—”
“That was not an invitation to say it again,” Matt says calmly. “That was me marveling at your audacity. You have no idea what this woman—your daughter—is capable of, do you?”
“Well,” my mom huffs. “She could have been a lovely dancer if she’d applied herself.”
“You mean she starved herself?”
“How dare you!” her voice rises.
“Is that your catch phrase, ma’am?” Matt says, his head cocked to the side. “Might be time to try a new one. Or, here’s a thought! Instead of talking at your daughter, you might try asking her a question once in a while. Maybe then you’d actually get to know your own kid.”
“Fine,” she says, her mouth tight. “What are these dreams of yours that you’ve never told us, Penny?”
Part of me knows she doesn’t deserve my answer, but the other part of me is still that little kid who desperately wants her mom to be proud of her.
