LET'S GO TO THE CLUB
1075 Words
AMELIA'S POV
"Pardon?" I asked, looking up at him, my name on his lips utterly unexpected.
"Aren't you ripe for marriage?" my father repeated.
"I am not. And even if I were, it's not your job or your duty to marry me off like some possession," I said, anger beginning to simmer.
"Yes, I am more than responsible for getting you a husband," he retorted, and that's when I completely lost my composure.
"Oh no, you won't dare take such a bold step. And even if you did, I wouldn't marry just anyone, including whoever you wish to betroth me to," I shot back.
"Oh, my dear, you will do exactly as I say, and you will marry whoever I tell you to," my father declared. This time, I didn't reply, didn't give him the reaction he wanted.
"You know what? You're just being an asshole. You know you have no right to do what you just said," I stated. I knew I shouldn't call him that; he was still my father, and I should still respect him. Nevertheless.
I continued eating, trying desperately to suppress my anger and rage. The food had lost all taste; all I could do was chew and swallow.
"You're meeting him in the next two days," my father announced, making no reference to what I'd called him. Since he hadn't reacted, I assumed he wasn't angry. But I was furious about what he'd just said.
I stood up abruptly, gripping the fork tightly. My chair crashed to the ground, and the kids at the table, along with their mother, cowered in fear.
She rose and ushered her children away from the scene I was about to create.
"But Mother, I'm not done with my food yet," Agnes's younger brother, Cade, whined as his mother pulled them from the dining room.
"Oh, darling, I'll bring it to you later. Just go upstairs now," she soothed, guiding them towards the steps. I expected her to return, but she followed them into their room.
Good, I thought inwardly.
"Now, listen, and listen good, Father. I won't meet with anybody in two days, nor will I ever meet with anyone you try to set me up with again," I began, moving closer to him, toying with my fork.
"You will—" he started, but I slammed the fork onto the table, silencing him instantly.
"I'm not done talking. By now, you should know what kind of child—or daughter—I am to you. I don't care about your position, and I don't give a f**k about your responsibilities. If you want to marry someone off, then go marry your precious daughter, Agnes, or whatever her name is. That is none of my business," I declared.
"I won't marry anyone. And as for whomever you promised marriage, I won't tell you to break it off, because you still have a healthy daughter who, apparently, is ripe enough to give you grandchildren," I finished, picking up the fork from the table and stepping away from him.
I dropped the fork onto my plate and strode towards the staircase.
"My business is sinking, and I need you to marry him so as to save my business—our business," he called after me as I walked away. The moment he finished his sentence, I turned and looked at him.
"First of all, it's your business. In fact, it's not even your business; it's Mother's. That was the main reason you killed her in the first place. Second, if you want to save this business of yours, the one you destroyed with your own hands, marry your daughter off and use her as the sacrificial lamb," I spat.
"Amelia," he said, his voice a warning.
"Don't call my name!" I shouted at him, my rage at its peak.
"Don't. Just. Don't. Call. My. Name," I repeated, enunciating each word, my throat tight with the sting of approaching tears.
"Why should I be the one you sacrifice? You've never once behaved or acted like a real father. Have you ever thought about why I've never called you 'Dad' in my entire life? I guess not," I said, tears blurring my vision, but I refused to let him see my weakness.
"Deal with your calamity alone. Count me out," I declared, then turned and walked away as fast as I could, desperate to reach my room.
I entered and slammed the door with such force I felt the impact vibrate through the floor.
I threw myself onto my bed and let it all out. I cried and cried, not just because of what happened downstairs, but because the situation had forced me to remember my mum.
I wept until no more tears would fall. When I finally lifted my head, all I felt was a pounding headache. My head ached like hell. I felt as though the cerebrospinal fluid that supported my brain had run dry, leaving my brain heavy and aching.
I went to the bathroom and ran a cold bath. I sank into the tub, letting the cool water calm me. I spent more hours in that bathtub than I ever had at the dining table. When I was done, I called Jasmine.
"Yo, what's up? It's late," she mumbled, yawning on the other end.
"Where are you?" I asked her.
"Home. Where else would I be at this time of day? It's a few minutes to nine, for f**k's sake, Lia," she replied.
"Are you in bed? Or, by any chance, are you sleeping?" I pressed.
"I'm getting ready for bed, girl. What's wrong?" she asked, her voice clearing slightly.
"Good. Let's go to the club," I said without answering her question. A moment of silence stretched on the other end.
"Wait, are you for real?" she finally asked.
"Yes, Jas. I'm damn serious," I confirmed.
"Are you okay?" she questioned, concern in her voice.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I'll be at your place in twenty," I said, disconnecting the line before she could ask any more questions.
I got dressed, choosing a short, white silk gown with a slit on the right side. I slipped on four-inch heels and grabbed my car keys.
"Where are you going at this hour, dressed like that?" my father asked as soon as he saw me.
"Last time I checked, it was none of your concern," I retorted, heading towards the door and leaving the house.
- Writer
