Molly
The only sound in the room is the clink of sterling silver forks and knives brushing delicately against pretentious white china plates.
The dining area is lit only by the soft glow of flickering candle flames.
The scene should be serene and peaceful, but the company I’m with unfortunately dampers any hope of achieving such a feat.
I’m eating dinner in my father’s dining room, where I last sat three weeks ago and stormed out after my father insulted me, telling me I wasn’t good enough to sit at his fucking precious right hand.
I’m facing my older brother Harry as we eat dinner. The two of us flank my father, sitting in his prestigious spot at the head of the table.
“So, how are things, Molly?” Harry asks.
“Hmm?” I glance up absentmindedly as I realize I’m only playing with the peas on my plate, not actually bringing them up to my mouth for consumption.
“How are you doing?” Harry inflects.
I try to snap out of it. “Good.” I nod my head. “Really good.”
I bring my water glass up to my mouth and take a swig of the refreshing drink.
“Are you sure about that?” Harry chuckles as if the fucking asshole has me all figured out.
“I’m okay,” I insist firmly and take a bite of my salmon.
“One of my friends mentioned to me that you’re a frequent flyer at The Avalon lately.” Harry smirks.
I gulp, but don’t reveal my poker face. “Who’s your friend?”
“Nobody.” Harry shrugs.
I know it’s a lost cause to try to smoke that information out of him.
“Well, I’m glad you care enough about me to have a spy check in on my daily activities,” I say with smug satisfaction.
“Well, what’s it about?” Harry presses, never being one for restricting abilities or knowing when to fucking quit. I swear, he doesn’t have that gene in his body where he cares about discretion or getting embarrassed over anything.
I fucking wish I could live my own life with that mentality, but I’m not about to admit that to him or anyone else, let alone with my father in the room.
“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business,” I state firmly.
“Language, Molly,” my father reprimands me as if I’m a child. He hasn’t spoken up until this moment.
“Oh, come off your moral high horse, Daddy,” I retort, knowing he’s no saint.
“I’m just trying to make friendly conversation,” Harry says defensively as if his pressing questions are no big deal, which of course, to him, they aren’t.
“It’s not even worth mentioning.” I shrug, trying to downplay my time at the Avalon as nothing. “So, how are things with you?” I ask, desperate to change the damn subject from me already.
I’m the unofficial black sheep of this family, and I take any opportunity I can to cast the limelight on someone else―if it suits me.
“Things are great with me,” Harry boasts proudly.
“Good for you.” I nod and take a bite of my salad.
“I should be into work tomorrow and the rest of the week,” Harry notes as if I should fucking get on my knees and praise him for taking the initiative to hold interest in his job.
“I’m glad to see you making an effort.” I give him a forced smile.
I notice a change in myself since the last time I came here to eat with my father. Well, first of all, Harry wasn’t here, but that’s not really important.
“I really like the stage I’m at in my life,” I blurt out even though nobody cares enough to ask.
Harry and my father both exchange a look and stare at me, wondering where all this self-proclaiming confidence is stemming from all of a sudden. I mean, I can’t really blame them. I have puzzling feelings about it all, too.
“Is that so?” Harry grins at me as if he’s unconvinced and is going to do his best to prove that and make me crack.
“Yep.” I nod adamantly. “I’m done with pleasing other people and that includes you and Daddy,” I state.
“You try to please me?” Harry grins in satisfaction.
“More Daddy than you.” I shrug because I don’t want to make him feel special.
My parents already do enough of that for me.
“I’m turning over a new leaf,” I proclaim.
My father chuckles and takes a sip of his brandy.
“I’m sorry, is something amusing?” I turn to look at my father.
“No.” He shakes his head and grins as he stares at his plate.
“I’m tired of nobody taking me seriously, so I’m not going to do anything at all. Then you’ll see how much you need me. I’ll prove it by not existing where you need me to be.”
My father raises an eyebrow and doesn’t respond.
“Are you crazy?” Harry asks out of nowhere.
“No, not really.” I stare at him.
“You sound like the guy in that Christmas movie,” Harry attests.
“It’s a Wonderful Life?” I ask.
“Yeah that’s the one,” Harry admits with a nod.
“This isn’t the movies, this is real life,” I state.
“No shit,” he says and takes a bite of his salad.
“I’ve come to a decision you will probably be proud about, though,” I add.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Harry leans on his elbows eagerly.
We’re talking to each other back and forth, engaging in conversation as if my father isn’t even in the fucking room.
“Well,” I wipe my mouth with my napkin and place it on the table beside my plate, “I’m taking an indefinite leave of absence from the company,” I say.
“Really?” Harry laughs. “When will that start?”
“Tomorrow.” I nod curtly. “I won’t be showing up to work tomorrow,” I confirm, more to myself than to them.
“That’s great,” Harry says, and leans back in his chair.
He actually starts fucking slow clapping in approval.
“I gotta say, little sis, I applaud you.” He continues to clap.
“Seriously?” I look at him as if he’s lost his fucking marbles.
“Yes,” he says with a grin. “You’re finally seeing the light. Reality is hitting you. Now you realize that shit is not as important as you think it is.”
“I don’t know if you’re making fun of me, but I’m feeling uncomfortable now,” I say and stand up.
“Are you going somewhere?” Harry stops laughing and eyes me.
“Yeah, away from you assholes,” I say.
“Molly, get back here right now.” My father’s voice booms and bellows through the otherwise silent room.
“I’m not coming back, Daddy.” I don’t even look twice before walking out the door.
I call my driver who swiftly picks me up to bring me back to my apartment.
On the entire ride home, I replay the conversation with Harry in my mind. I don’t regret the things I said, nor do I want to take back my decision to have a break from the work scene for a while.
I need a fucking time out, a break to find myself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
I lock my apartment door behind me a few minutes after riding the elevator up. I’m sleepy, and all I want to do is take a nice warm bath and reflect on my past mistakes and how to fix them for a better future. Now that I’m not going to be working, I have all the time in the world.
Unfortunately, all I’m able to think about as I sink into the warm bathwater is fucking Owen. Ugh.