Chipped Heartz & Broken Smilez

Mother and Daughter

I sat on my kitchen counter, staring out the window at the moody grey sky, while my mother went through Alexander's marriage contract. She dressed as posh as ever, with a pink pleated skirt and a matching blazer. Her wide-brimmed hat was the same nauseating shade of pink, but she had added a white bow which she tied at the back. Braided black hair reached the middle of her back. She said, "So, once you agree to marry him, you'll have to quit acting and focus on governing the state, hosting public functions, speaking at assemblies, volunteering and sometimes ambassadorship work." My mother clapped her hands and cooed. "Oh, honey. This is wonderful. You'll be a part of the most powerful family in our country."

'I don't want to be,' I thought as I folded a piece of paper into one triangle, then another, until it became too thick to continue toying with.

My mother glanced at my face, and her shoulders slumped. "Can't you at least pretend to be happy?"

"I am happy, so happy," I said, flashing a small smile to soothe her.

My mother walked over to me. "Alright, no need for the attitude; tell me what's wrong."

"I don't think Alex realizes that the people in lower grids deserve to have a good life too. They are not livestock. They're humans with feelings, goals, aspirations...."

My mother waved the suggestion away. "The lowers are not your concern. We are born to lead, and they are born to serve us. Except for a few exceptional cases where some of them manage to raise into a higher class, most of them will never be more than poorly educated workers."

"That's the thing; I don't think it's right to give them a shitty education just to make it harder for them to elevate themselves. Everyone should have access to the same teaching materials."

"Is this about your little trip to America?"

"No. I disagree with how our government runs our nation. If I had power, I would change everything."

My mother gave me one of her sympathetic smiles. "Honey, if we allowed the poor to rise as freely as they wanted, they would steal our profits. If you want to make money, you must limit your competitors. And if you did rule this country, you would realize that you can't make everyone happy. You help the poor, you upset the rich, and they start plotting to overthrow you. A good ruler knows how to give the poor just enough to keep them satisfied while fattening the pockets of their supporters. You know the best side to take in conflicts and which supporters are more beneficial."

"I disagree."

"Forget about all that nonsense; leave the governing of the country to the men. Let's choose your dress for the date tonight."

"Mother—"

She turned to face me, the smile on her lips twitching, a warning that she didn't want to hear any more of my nonsense.

"I don't think I love him," I said softly.

"That's the wonderful thing about marriage, dear. You don't necessarily marry for love; you marry because of what you can gain."

That wasn't the answer I was looking for, so I retorted, "Marrying for profit worked out so well for you and Father; the two of you basically spent most of your marriage in different houses. Father chose Bryant as his avatar, and you chose to live again through me. Now, Father is dead, and you, well, try as you might, you can't hide your wrinkles forever. You're aging and out of your prime...as the men say, so you try to use me to accomplish what you never could. How's that gwon' for ya?" I slipped in a bit of the slang I had learned from the lower grids, knowing it would irritate her as much as she had irritated me.

Her fingers splayed across her thigh and twitched. "You spend so much time with that Tigger that you have forgotten how to speak to your mother." Then, with quick, sure steps, Mother crossed the room, positioned herself in front of me, raised her hand and slapped my cheek. My head whipped to the side as pain radiated through my jaw. As a reflex, my teeth clenched my tongue, puncturing the flesh till I tasted blood. Surprised, I glanced at my mother.