Father often tried to persuade mother to allow me to follow my interests, explaining that I am an artistic spirit and should be allowed to freely express myself. She wasn't buying it. I think what annoyed her the most was the fact that I was the only independent thinker of her children. My other sisters, lovely, they were, charming, of course, but not strong-minded. They did as mother said, and they were rewarded generously. I, on the other hand, earned her ire by putting my elbows on the dinner table and slurping my soup loudly, just to get her attention.
Tonight, my parents were having a dinner party, and by parents I mean my mother was throwing a party and my father was going along with the act. Among the prestigious guests were Alfred and Mary Talbert, who would be joined by their grown son Peter, from New York City. Peter was a twenty-four-year-old tax accountant who graduated from Princeton and had an eye for Antoinette. My mother's plan for my eldest sister to be paired up with an eligible bachelor was well underway. I was invited to join everyone for dinner, but afterwards I was to retreat to my room. I was to keep conversation at dinner at a minimum, being quiet and polite to all. Under no circumstances was I to joke, laugh, or, God forbid, go for second helpings at dinner. I felt like I was prohibited from being myself, and any originality or personality inside of me was being squelched and starved like a hungry starling begging for crumbs. If I ever showed a side of me that didn't hold up to her high society standards, I would risk embarrassing her with my "odd" behavior. I would need to be at my best tonight. Mother had been preparing for this dinner for nearly a month now.
The guests began to arrive around eight o'clock, and staggered in over the course of the hour that followed. Lillian had braided my hair for the occasion, and Ragna had me dress in a hideous blue dress that went down to my ankles. I protested, but Ragna ignored me as usual. Throughout dinner, Father told his usual golf jokes that earned warm chuckles from around the room. I laughed once, but after catching the hot gaze of my mother, my face turned serious again.
The Talbots were utterly boring. Alfred had nostrils full of bushy nose hair, and when he laughed, he let out an obnoxious bellowing sound that hurt my ears. Meanwhile, Mary didn't say a word the entire evening. She just sipped on her hot tea, not paying attention to the dinner conversation at all. Mother, on the other hand, was playing hostess and pretending as if she had prepared the meal before us herself, when in reality, Alois and Ragna had pulled out all the stops to make tonight's dinner happen.
The dinner seemed to be going well in my mother's eyes; the guests were enjoying themselves, the meal was delicious, and my father had not run out of jokes yet. Then the conversation took a turn for the worse. Eve Sandow cast her gray gaze on me, during a lull in the conversation. "I'm quite glad to see you, dearie, I had heard you were in the hospital ill. What was the matter?" I stood stark still, unsure of what to say.
Do I tell her the truth? That my mother put me in the hospital because she is embarrassed of me? That my mother doesn’t have time for me, so she put me in here to get me out of her hair? That my mother is a stone-cold bitch who needs to take her medication?
The silence had lingered too long after the question. Mother perked up, speaking in too sweet of a voice, "It's okay, dear, you can tell her."
I can? No I couldn't possibly. I would never hear the end of it. Next thing you know, I would be sent off to a boarding school in France, where my mother believed no one ever exhibited bad manners. I had to make something up. But the opportunity to speak my mind was entirely too delicious. I took the plunge.
"Mother is embarrassed of me. Little girls are to be seen and not heard in this house, and apparently she was hearing a little too much of me."
My mother stared at me wide-eyed and embarrassed. Oh, no. Now I've done it. France, here I come. Catherine the idiot.
"I'm sorry, dear... what?" asked Mrs. Sandow, looking quite alarmed.
Mother replied, "Catherine just needed a rest. That is all."
A rest. So that's what we are calling it now? ”If that's what you'd like to call seven nights and eight days in a gray room with chicken wire on the windows. I don't recall getting much rest at all.”
Mother rushed on, "I think it is time for Catherine to be off to bed now. Kitty, say good night."
“You know, Mother, just because I am different, doesn’t mean I’m crazy. Maybe you’re the crazy one.”