Friday morning unfolded in the newly adopted Mississippi home of the Roberts, bringing with it a mix of tension, laughter, and the promise of a party. The previous day's heated argument still lingered in the air as Whitney and Alexander navigated their roles as parents, partners, and individuals.
The kitchen became a battlefield for Columbia as she wrestled with pots, pans, and a hot spatula, determined to whip up a breakfast feast. The banter between the siblings continued, filled with jabs, laughter, and a hint of underlying affection.
"Please shut up Dallas." Columbia scoffed, encouraging her big brother to close it after their altercation. "Before I have to hit you again." She stirred violently in the bowl as she prepared pancakes. Dallas frowned again, disappointed in his sister's disrespect. "You shut up, twat." He mumbled under his breath as he walked out of the room and stomped back upstairs.
As the aroma of cooking filled the air, Angela stood by, observing Columbia's culinary prowess with a mixture of admiration and slight impatience. The impending visit from their aunt and uncle added a rush to the morning, creating a sense of (somewhat) controlled chaos in the household.
Meanwhile, Whitney sought solace in the bathroom, preparing for a day filled with responsibilities and the looming public appearance. (A paparazzi was literally at their front gate at 8am sharp every day.) Alexander, fresh from a workout, attempted to mend the emotional rift created the night before, but the wounds ran deep. Very, very deep. Right before Whitney had fallen asleep, they'd had another argument.
The words still echoed. "Why do I always have to be the one to hold you up, Alexander? You treat me like a pedestal..." He sighed heavily as he walked out of the bathroom.
The impending party served as a distraction, a reason for the family to put on a facade of normalcy amidst the turmoil. Whitney's plea for reassurance echoed in the silence, creating an unspoken tension between her and Alexander. She glared at him as he walked out, a sharp buzzing feeling that came from her eyes only that Alexander felt burning the back of his head.
He entered the living room, sorrow and exhaustion in his eyes. Wandering about for the laundry room, which he'd lost on the floorplan the night before, he quickly grabbed a plate straight out of Columbia's hand and kept walking. Columbia gasped. "Well, I never-"
The family dynamic unfolded in various scenes—Dallas, confident and somewhat arrogant, preening in front of the mirror, Angela's sharp wit and humor cutting through the tension, Nolan's attempts to mediate, and Columbia, caught in the crossfire, using her culinary skills as a shield.
Whitney, despite her glamorous exterior, bore the weight of her insecurities and frustrations. She looked in the mirror. "A nice girl. A calm one. That's who I am." The house, a symbol of a fresh start, held the voices of past and broken promises. As she confronted Alexander that night, the bitterness spilled out, laying bare the vulnerabilities that lurked beneath the surface. She sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror, examining her outfit. Today she wore a deep navy blue suit with a matching color skirt alongside a pearl necklace, complete with pearl earrings and her own invented hairstyle, the "Viridescent Flip."
The journey from Waukegan to Mississippi, initially framed as a family bonding experience, revealed the fault lines within the Roberts family. The desire for normalcy clashed with the realities of fame, financial struggles, and unfulfilled promises.
"If I could take it all back, I would." Whitney sighed, thinking back on her multi-day journey. She never thought she'd regret moving, but now, she did. She felt terrible. Absolutely drastic, even. And she wanted to go back home. To Charleston. To the coast, where her heart resided and peace was real. Where they knew her, not as a singer, or the daughter of Dolly Clark, but as her. Whitney Clark.
