I've dreamed of the perfect marriage ever since I was a little girl: a marriage complete with a hardworking husband while I tended to the home and our children, preferably four little rugrats to call my own. I dreamed of a life filled with laughter...
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I've been staring at my untouched glass of sparkling water for the past ten minutes, watching as each little bubble floats to the surface, and pops.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop.
I wonder what it would feel like to be a bubble. One second, being a whole bunch of air molecules trapped by what must seem like the weight of the world, and then the next, gathering enough strength to fight for their escape to freedom.
Freedom to float.
Freedom to breathe.
Freedom fly.
I gently tap the glass with my fingernail, releasing more of those little bubbles. If I can't fly, maybe I can help them to fly.
"What's gotten into you?" Daniel whispers in my ear, bringing me out of my thoughts. Right. It's been a week since learning about Abigail's upcoming divorce and Daniel has never been more busy with work; he hasn't been home once for dinner. He says he's working late. He says he's behind. He says a lot of things.
I don't have time to talk, little bird. I won't be home for dinner. No need to wait up for me either.
We're at his parent's home to attend a very important dinner, a dinner Abigail and her parents just so happen to also be in attendance. It's all quite convenient, to say the least.
"Sorry," I whisper back. "Got a little lost in my thoughts."
Daniel's jaw tenses. "Well, snap out of it. You're embarrassing me. My mother asked you a question and you've blatantly ignored her." His hand squeezes my knee. It doesn't hurt, but it's not a gesture done in love either.
Your husband is always right, Charlotte. Always apologize for your disobedience. Your marriage will work out better that way.
"Of course, Daniel. I'm sorry." I offer him a gentle smile before lifting my gaze to his mother. The woman has the same caramel eyes as her son. By the scowl on her face, she's not pleased with my behavior. If I'm honest, I don't think his mother has ever been pleased with my behavior. In her eyes, no woman could ever be good enough for her son. No woman except for the precious and perfect Abigail, that is. "My apologies, Katherine. I missed what you said."
"Head in the clouds, dear? Perhaps you've had enough wine for tonight."
I haven't had a single sip of alcohol today, but I don't tell her that. It would be confrontational and impolite and useless.
There's power in allowing others to win, Charlotte.
"Perhaps you're right as always, Katherine."
Daniel huffs in irritation beside me as his mother nods, pleased with herself for putting me in my place in front of all of her guests.
"I asked why you haven't been to see Dr. Davis. I ran into his wife at the golf course yesterday, and she said you haven't made an appointment. Imagine my embarrassment when, the last time we spoke, you promised you'd reach out." She takes a sip of her wine. It has to be her fourth or fifth glass since we sat for dinner. She has a glazed shine over her eyes, and I know she is feeling the effects of alcohol. When Katherine Montgomery feels loose, so does her mouth. Like an arrow shooting bow, her vocal shots are always aimed to destroy. "Fertility is no joking matter, Charlotte. It's been four years and not one pregnancy, dear. I'm concerned."
