I Like Your Shoes | ✓

Chapter 2 | How to Evade your Mother

"And this job of yours, will it make you more likeable?"

"No."

"Will it gain you a Royal status in the society?"

"No, Mother."

"Find a suitable husband for you?"

"No."

"Then, why exactly did you accept this job?"

I was tempted to say that it was the money, that it would provide me the freedom I lacked under her roof, but I couldn't dare, of course not.

My mother, Bathsheba, stared at me with her eyes narrowed, her hands on her narrow hips, her ruby red lips pursed in concentration and disgust. I stared at my fake rose studded sandals, not daring to look her in the eye.

When it came to dodging my mother at an argument, I'd grown into a pro over the years. There were just three steps, really.

1. Don't look her in the eye.

2. Answer with a simple 'Yes' or 'No', never speak more than those simple, little words. NEVER.

3. When everything else fails, run away, making sure to run in a zig zag manner to confuse the predator.

The third rule, I learned from National Geographic, in a documentary called 'what to do when hunted by an alligator.'

"Well?"

I decide to play it safe and remain silent.

"Ambrosia Bellemore." She says curtly, clicking her plain black heels with impatience.

"Well, mother, it felt like a great opportunity. And it was good, easy money." I finally blurt out.

The moment I utter easy and money together, my mother's eyelids start twitching incessantly. I gulp audibly.

"Easy money, you say? How easy exactly?" She asks with an evil smirk.

Oh my God, she thinks I'll sleep around to get money.

A flare of anger ignites inside me, a little part of me tries to extinguish it, but a larger part of me holds onto it until every part of me is seething and an angry red.

"I'll be working in a publishing company, mother." Barely holding on, I manage to spit the words through my teeth.

"You, young lady, have no control over yourself. I knew you'd grow up and follow your father's footsteps." I didn't expect it to be a compliment, not when my father had left her for another woman. I don't actually blame him though, I think he finally had had enough of zero fat breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"I'm not like him, mother. I just want to do whatever I want with my life!"

"Do what? Take a miserly job when you could've easily become a doctor, just like your sister and me?"

Before I could come up with a proper come back to that, the door to her room opens slightly. The narrow, bony face of my sister, a perfect replica of our mother's, peers in with barely concealed anger.

"You are fighting again?" She accuses my mother.

My mom runs a hand through her already perfect platinum hair. If I didn't know her better, I'd have said she looked almost sheepish.

"No. Just talking."

Neave eyes me strangely, and I give her an almost genuine looking smile. Her eyes narrow. She doesn't say anything though, and turns her attention back to mother.