part 2/3
"hurry up, juliet. we're going to be late" my mother's voice calls to me from downstairs.
i'm getting ready as fast as i can because we're about to go to a big dinner for my 11th birthday. i'm wearing the heels mother got for me. my first pair!
with that, i'm wearing a peach colored dress with white tights. it matches my shoes, which mother will be very happy about. she always wants my clothes to be matching. i look more proper that way.
i race down the stairs and approach the front door where mother is waiting for me.
"you shouldn't be running in the house like that, darling. it's inappropriate and you could get hurt."
she tells me that every time i run down the stairs.
"and don't forget your tiara, my love. you'll look like a princess for your birthday!"
i tried to hide the tiara from her. it's scratchy on my head because of the glitter.
you'd think she would buy a better fitting one, but it was the most expensive tiara she found, and there was only one left. mother always goes for the most expensive option when she shops.
once she places the tiara on my head, we get in the car and go to the venue.
my parents rented a winery for the day. this isn't the kind of birthday party my friends have with piñatas and games, it's a family birthday party. mother and father told me it's more formal to have birthday parties like this, and that it's coming time i act less juvenile.
everyone there is gonna be dressed like they're attending easter brunch, including me. i never really understood the point. i'd be fine with people wearing jeans and a t shirt to my party.
once we arrive at the winery, mother adjusts my dress before taking my hand and walking inside with me.
i quickly straighten my back for better posture before i greet everyone. today isn't the day to be looking uncomfortable and shy.
father says good posture is important because it determines how you're perceived by others. straightening my back, rolling my shoulders back, and keeping my chin up will give a more confident and ladylike impression.
"juliet! happy birthday, my dear" aunt cindy says as she kisses my cheek and smiles to my mother. her husband, uncle patrick, greets me next.
"happy birthday, honey" he smiles, aunt cindy linking her arm around his.
"thank you" i smile brightly.
mother excuses us and walks me to my chair at the long white table surrounded by cushioned seats. i'm sitting all the way at the end and mother is sitting to my left.
i spot a table with a bunch of presents on it and excitedly kick my feet under the table. all of those are for me!
"juliet, calm down. please, you'll make a scene" my mother scolds.
right. i guess that is a childish thing to do. i'm 11 now, i should act less recklessly.
everyone soon gathers at the table for our food to come. the kids table is being served pasta, the kind that's made from elbow macaroni. any long noodle-y pasta like spaghetti would be too messy, especially for an event like this.
my table is now presented with cheese and fruit platters for starters. everyone insists i get my helping first because it's my birthday, so i smile and thank everyone before i get my food.
i pick up my smaller fork and push the prongs into one of the watermelon cubes i retrieved. mother says i should try to use forks more often than my fingers because i would otherwise be eating like a caveman. and i am not a caveman.
as i take my bite, mother smiles to me proudly and sips her lemon water. she always uses a straw to prevent potentially slurping.
"how is school going for her, miss carter?"
the last name carter commonly comes from england, which is where my mother is from. she travels a lot for work but now legally lives in the united states. that decision was made by falling in love with my father when they met on a business trip.
she tells me the story all the time.
mother never dropped her surname. has something to do with her family history, which is why i was given her last name instead of my father's.
juliet carter.
"she's doing excellent! right, dear?" my mother turns towards me.
i smile and wave to whichever relative this is and respond. "yes, i'm doing very well in school!"
once i finish my fruit and cheese, more food is brought out and, like before, i'm instructed to get my helping first.
my mother slightly leans over to me and whispers, "you're doing a great job tonight. i'm proud of you, my love. such a proper young lady you've become."
i respond with a toothy smile and fix my posture again by sitting up straight before picking up my dinner fork, setting my small fork back in place on a napkin.
***
"are you ready for your violin lesson, darling?" my mom asks, stepping into my bedroom. "your teacher is on her way here."
i forgot i had violin lessons today. great.
i sigh, "yes, mother. i'll change my outfit now."
why do rich business people insist on making their kids learn an instrument? it seems pointless to me.
my mother smiles and nods. "i'll let you know when she's here." she then leaves my room and i exhale deeply before lifting myself off my bed.
every time we have guests over, (which happens often when mother is home from work), i dress formally so they feel more welcomed and gives a better impression.
mother says it's basic manners, so it's important to always look presentable.
i picked this outfit myself when mother took me shopping for my 15th birthday 10 ish months ago. i requested to change my wardrobe, and i guess she agreed it's time for me to be more independent, more original. although, she still needed to approve most of the clothing i picked because it's her and father's money.
skirts and calm dresses are encouraged, as long as it's nothing scandalous. i'm 15, almost 16, so i'm a lot better at changing myself to dress how i want, but still following my dress code.
"hello, miss davidson" i greet with a pearly smile. "please, come in."
some people who live like i do insist guests take their shoes off when they enter the house to keep the floor clean while some other households have guests keep their shoes on to stay more professional.
my mother lets them do either because it's a lose-lose situation in her mind. having guests remove their shoes: unprofessional to walk around without shoes. have guests keep their shoes on: might get the marble flooring dirty.
i don't know why she cares about people getting the floor dirty. she hired a maid in order to control that problem and more. mother doesn't have to do the cleaning herself, so there's no reason for her to act like it.
but everything she does is for a reason, so i don't question anything.
my violin teacher and i walk to the leisure room so we can start my lesson.
"what have you been up to lately, juliet?" she asks. i doubt she cares, people who are anything like my parents just say that to be polite. it isn't even small talk, it's supposed to be taken as 'manners.'
i never understood why people treat me like this, it's just how my family runs things.
"i'm doing fine, thanks. and you?" i ask, crossing my legs.
she nods. "the same. are you ready to start then?"
my teacher pulls a music stand out of her bag and starts to unfold it, propping it up in front of us.
"whenever you are."
once my lesson is over, i escort miss davidson to the front door and meet my mother in the kitchen.
"hello, darling. would you like some lemon water?"
it's all i drink. various fruit water. but most commonly, lemon. mother even grows lemons in the backyard to assure she has the freshest ones.
she hires a gardener to take care of them.
"actually, i'm kind of thirsty for some sweet tea. or maybe a coke for once?" i respond. coke is the only soda we have because my father uses it to mix his alcohol with.
my mother shakes her head. "you don't need that kind of stuff in you, sweetheart. drink some lemon water, it keeps your figure looking nice."
i sigh and sit on a kitchen stool. "why do i have to look petite like this?" i tilt my head, twirling my straw around in my water. "you've never explained that."
my mother looks at me in betrayal and sets her glass down on the island. "that isn't a question you should be asking the answer to. it's just how it is."
i lean forward, placing my elbows on the counter in frustration, engaged. "but why, mother? i just cant think of a reason why that's such a pushed attribute to my life."
"juliet elise you know to never put your elbows on a table" she hisses.
oh poop... she brought out the middle name. i should tone it down.
"but mother, i just want to know... that's all i ask" i plead, retracted my arms to rest my hands on my knees.
she sighs and takes another sip of her water.
"all of the boys prefer petite ladies" she answers. "if you maintain your slim figure, you won't have to worry about your body holding you back from getting into a relationship with someone you really like, someone who's personality is compatible with yours."
oh... right.
"i guess i didn't think about it that way."
we sit in silence for the next 15 minutes straight before mother finally speaks again.
"i think it's time to settle down for the night, my dear. you had a late lesson tonight, it's getting close to your curfew" she declares. "i'll... let you stay up for awhile. as long as you wind down in your room to sleep when you decide to."
by curfew, she means bedtime. she doesn't say bedtime because it sounds like i'm a toddler running on her schedule.
technically i do run on her schedule, but we don't really acknowledge that.
as long as i'm in bed at a proper time to get my 'beauty sleep.' ...because god forbid i ever develop dark circles under my eyes.
my pale porcelain skin is precious to my mother. runs on her side of the family. i have to keep it as clear as it was given to me.
"thanks, mother" i smile. "goodnight, i'll talk to you in the morning."
she smiles back with a nod and watches me travel up the wide spiral staircase back to my room.
i immediately flop onto my king size bed, being careful to not cause a ruckus as i land. i roll onto my back and reach for my phone.
2 missed messages
i open up my texts to see who it is, and i'm met with two messages from
father
'sorry i'm not home to tell you this in person...don't tell your mother'
'we're going out tomorrow at 11am to get papers signed for your trip. love you'
my father is a professional, classy adult like my mother, but he isn't quite as strict as she is. he's really relieving sometimes. it's like he knows when i'm falling off.
we kinda both got raised by my mother starting from when they got married.
they met eachother on a business trip, so they're both classy and elegant rich people. he definitely follows the same procedures as my mother, but i would say he's the 'fun' parent.
he definitely wouldn't be the fun parent to normal people, but with the options i'm given, that's him.
***
"i'll miss you both so much!" i grin to my parents as our butler gives me my last case of luggage. "and thank you for everything, pierre!"
our butler, pierre, basically helped raise me. he's been around since i was five, and now i'm 18, leaving home for my first year of college.
"call us whenever you need us, love. we'll miss you more than you know!" my mother grins, clearly holding back tears.
i look to my father, giving him the go ahead to say his goodbye.
"good luck, princess. i'm so proud of you."
i don't...
i don't hear that a lot from my parents.
the only times they say they're proud is when i'm being 'proper' and 'mannerly' when i'm following a protocol i was given for a night out. it's never for things like this.
my parents mostly only said they were proud when i did those things as a kid. they haven't said it in awhile because i'm old enough and taught well enough to naturally act the way i do everyday.
my mother likes to say i'm a mini version of her, but i personally don't think i could live up to those standards. her life is way out of my life's league.
holding back my tears like i was taught, i nod to my father. "thank you, father."
and that's the last we spoke before i made my way to my dorm to walk into a new chapter of my life.
i've been raised right, and i'm confident in where i'm going in life. i'm set up for success.