Annabelle Luther.

Six: Familialism is a Lie and Secrets. (Edited)

Familialism is a Lie and Secrets.

It was Sunday when the others had shown up for a late lunch. Everyone had gathered in my kitchen, all sitting at the table, plate in front of them, ready to eat the food I had made. It had been a simple lunch, but it had seemed to be enough for everyone to yell at each other about hogging certain dishes to themselves or taking too long with a certain dish. I had sat at the head of the table, my mother had been to my right, followed by Blake and Athena, Princess was seated to my left, and Jasmine had been next to her. Their children had been put down for a nap just after they had arrived, meaning we had a decent time alone for mom to tell them the news about the divorce.

"Shut up," I muttered when Blake had made a comment to Jasmine about her weight. Jasmine and Princess had still carried their baby weight, granted it hadn't been a lot, but you could tell that they had kept some of the baby weight. My eyes had locked with Blake's, who only rolled his eyes from this.

"I was only saying that maybe they can skip a few of the dishes from this meal, that's all," Blake came to his own defense, expecting anyone at the table to agree with him, but his issue was none of us had found this funny. I remember all of my friends complaining about their wives or girlfriends still retaining their pregnancy weight, and even the women who would talk to me about how they knew their spouse hated the extra weight. It was a heartbreaking thing to think about. Did they go through nine months of carrying their child, creating a life, and their issue is about the mothers' weight and not their health?

"They both gave birth, you asshole," The words left my lips with ease, as I sat up straight, waiting for him to challenge me, "God forbid, after they push new life out of their ripped vaginas' they have the right to take care of themselves and their health." But, instead, Blake gazed hard at me; his hands had now been clenched into a fist, almost as though he was ready to stand up from his spot and attempt to punch me. But, instead, my eyes continued to stay locked with his brown eyes. The frustration in them growing the longer we kept eye contact.

"That's enough, you two," My mother spoke as she reached out and smacked both of us, which caused us to hiss out in pain from the slap. She hit harder than our father did at times, but her hitting us had been something that happened once in a blue moon.

"Sorry," Blake and I both muttered at once, looking at our mother. She smiled from this and held her hands out for us to take. Growing up, our parents had never really been religious, but they did teach us that moments like this should be thanked for, especially when we were growing up, as we rarely saw each other. We were either busy with work or school or whatever crap we were doing. So when we all connected hands, my mother said a simple "thank you," and with that, we proceeded to eat our food in the sense of silent peace.

The sound of our knives and forks hitting our plates filled the kitchen; the clacking had almost been annoying if I hadn't found my attention drifting towards my cellphone that had been violently vibrating against the table. With a small sigh, I reached out and saw that it had been the firm calling me. Quickly answering the phone, I listened as Juno had been shouting about how the media was going frenzied over the fact that Luther and Daughtry Law had receded from their position of defending the California client.

"Tell them there's no comment at the time. Then, if they continue to pressure, tell them that the client's background convictions aren't aligned with who we are as a law firm, and stepped away due to personal bias," Juno had fallen silent from this. The sound of her keyboard clicking away had told me that she had been working on an email, possibly sending it out in a mass email. After a short time, Juno said goodbye, and the call ended, leaving me back in silence. I forced my attention away from my plate and looked up to find that Athena had been gazing hard at me. Her silver-blue eyes had seemed to show interest in my phone call, but I would never talk about something like this with my family.