BY the time Anna walks back into the dining room, Bruce is still standing, Mom is shaky and sniffling, and I'm sitting here in the upholstered, plaid electric chair. I'm not sure why I didn't get up when everyone left. There's certainly nothing keeping me here, but I stayed. So here we all are.
Bruce sighs, and it's like a knife cutting into my gut. He's such a happy, vivacious man that it's jarring to see him so… deflated. "Anna, I thought you had a big night planned. Go enjoy your birthday."
"I… want to be here. I think I need to be. I can hang out with my friends tomorrow." She sits in her usual chair gently like it's about to break. Just like the eggshells littering the floor.
I haven't seen her in weeks, and she looks different. Older, somehow. Prettier. More mature. There's an aura about her that's new. She's glowing even though I've brought a miserable end to her big day.
I'm not dumb, I know it's Harry.
It was inevitable from the moment I brought him home that they would end up together. They just fit a lot better than he and I ever did. I saw the sly looks he'd give her at the table, felt his protectiveness and interest in her. My stomach dropped when I saw them sitting so cozy together–not because of any lingering feelings– but because he's such a good guy, the guilt he stirs in me makes me feel uneasy. I know he deserved better in the little time he spent with me, but it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Even though I didn't love him.
She's not looking at me and I can't blame her. I think about my eighteenth birthday, when we went for huge ice cream sundaes that she paid for with the money she made babysitting. The memory makes me feel like shit.
"I'm sorry," I say to her, my head bowed as I finger the gift I bought her. I place it on the table. "I didn't mean to ruin your birthday." Harry's words still ring in my ears, and it comes out harsher than I wanted.
"S'okay. You didn't." She says it with confidence, but her foot slides over her other, something she does when she's nervous, like when she asked for my help picking out an outfit for her date with the film guy.
Mom takes a deep breath, her body shuddering as she lets it out. Her hands wring together in a nervous gesture. "Why don't we go into the living room? I'll make coffee." Mom moves to the percolator and reaches for the can of Maxwell House.
I'm the first one up, and I stomp over to the pillows on the floor, plopping myself down. Anna follows and we sit there awkwardly for a minute without Bruce and Mom. She's not saying anything, but I can tell she wants to. "Just spit it out."
"I'm sorry, too."
I wasn't expecting that. "For what, exactly?"
She shifts around on the pillows, but stares me straight in the eyes. "I told them about the magazine."
My stomach twists. This is the first time I've even thought about how anyone might have discovered my secret after the magazine hit the racks. I was just… caught up in the moment, enjoying my five minutes of fame. To know Anna saw it somewhere–a gas station or at Mac's where some boy shoved it in her face–and then had to tell our parents… well, it never occurred to me to imagine it. "You ratted me out?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in anger even though I really feel nauseous.
"I told Dad and Lori what I thought they should know."
I cluck my tongue. "Who are you to decide what they should know?"
She stares at me and crosses her arms, just as Mom and Bruce enter. Mom places a tray on the ottoman in the middle of the pillows, but none of us make a move to grab a cup. After some hesitation, she pulls a magazine from under her arm and places it on the floor.
I don't have to look at it, I know what it is.
My face is burning, and even though deep down I knew they would find out, a part of me repressed it. Immediately, my thoughts go to Bruce. I'm ashamed that he's now seen it, and I can't bring myself to make eye contact. Mom fiddles with her dress and leans against him. She doesn't seem as scattered as she usually does, she looks… purposeful. Maybe Bruce gave her a pep talk in the kitchen.
"We will get to the obvious elephant in the room in a minute." She waves her hand in the direction of the magazine lying face-down on the floor. "I understand you are what you think is an adult, Rosalie, but you are still our daughter, and your behavior lately is out of control. I have no idea what you are thinking, running around with this… person and not telling me where you are. Did you even think about anyone but yourself?"
Bruce holds onto Mom's hand as she speaks, her voice beginning to shake. "I have been up nights worrying about your safety. You told me to trust you, to trust this guy I've never met, and the minute I say something you don't want to hear, you run away. That is not a behavior that is going to earn you the trust you're looking for."
I can't remember the last time Mom spoke with this much authority. "Would you have let me go live with him?" I challenge.
"I would've considered what you wanted, at the time, if I had met him. But I've heard some not so great things about him since."
"You don't even know him!"
"Because you only brought him around when we weren't here. I know what I've heard. Drugs, girls… I assume he's the one that got you to pose for that magazine?"
"You heard all this from Anna, I take it?" My words are harsh thinking about our fight. It's the only way they'd know he was ever here.
"Don't take that tone towards her. We asked her outright and she told us what she knew. It seems everyone knows what kind of guy he is."
"See? You wouldn't have approved if I'd brought him over! You just take her word for it!"
"If you expect us to treat you like an adult, you will act like one. I would've given you a chance, Rosalie. But you didn't come to me."
I sweep a dismissive hand at her. "You wouldn't have."
"Now we'll never know." We fall into silence as Mom rubs her temples.
"You told me you were going to pose for a photographer. You said it was an art piece. Why didn't you tell me about the kind of modeling it was?"
"Because I didn't," I say, attitude dripping off me I can't seem to stop. Inside, I'm scared shitless. I don't want to be the biggest disappointment they've ever had, even though being in that magazine makes me feel like a star.
"You ask for trust, but you didn't trust us, Rosalie."
"You'd have tried to stop me. I didn't need your approval. Besides, it doesn't matter. I wanted to do it."
"I wouldn't have approved," Bruce interrupts. I still can't look at him.
Mom puts her hand on his arm to calm him down. "I would've strongly tried to talk you out of it, had I known it was this kind of… trash."
"See?"
"But I would've listened to you."
Bruce interjects, "I am not your father, I know this. But regardless of how I feel about what you did," he clears his throat, "you can come to me about anything. Your mother and I might not always agree with your choices, but we will always give you a chance. You just don't let us in."
I huff and roll my eyes, which are starting to tear up. I can't let them see me cry. "Sure you would've. I've never been anything but a burden to Mom and someone you were forced to deal with because you had no choice."
Mom audibly gasps and I instantly feel terrible, even if the little girl in me still thinks it's true. Bruce puts his arm around her, but leans closer to me. "You don't honestly believe that, do you, Rosalie?"
Shrugging with one shoulder, I finally look at him. His eyes are so sad and the urge to run is as big as the urge to fling my arms around him and cry like a baby. "I dunno."
You could hear a pin drop it's so quiet, until Mom cries, "Rosalie! Why would you ever think that way?"
I wipe a traitorous tear. "Dad left me, Tony resented me because he couldn't have you all to himself, and Bruce, well, Bruce has Anna and now you do too. You don't need me. I'm just a disappointment to you." I wipe the second one that falls away with the back of my hand. "Whatever, it's fine."
The silence in the room is deafening. My ears swim with the truth I've just let out, a truth I've held for so long. My eyes burn with tears, my heart hurts, my insides are so damn tired.
Mom is off her pillow and throws herself at me. Her arms circle me tightly and I just sit there, unable to hold back crying any longer. She strokes my hair like she did when I was little, when a nightmare would wake me up or I was home with the sniffles. Goosebumps flood my body at the touch I didn't realize I was missing so badly. It's like my skin can't get enough of the contact with hers.
"Oh, Rosalie, baby, I love you. You are the best thing I've ever done in my life. I can't imagine not having you, sweetie. I was made to be your mom," she croons, rocking me, and I'm openly sobbing in her embrace. After a minute I feel the pillow dip on my other side.
Bruce puts his arm around both of us. "You were the greatest bonus I could've asked for when I met your mother. I love you very much, Rosalie. I always have."
"We are a family, we stick together." Mom is nodding and stroking my head.
"I haven't felt like part of this family in years," I stutter. Realization that it's mostly my fault I feel that way ebbs through me like a spider web. I watch Anna cautiously as she kneels at my feet. She grabs my hands and twirls her fingers around mine.
"You're the first family I've felt like I've had in years," she says quietly, and it's enough to make my sobs echo through the room and hiccup through my body. I grasp her fingers and hold on, willing my body to stop betraying me and just escape, but it's a useless fight. We are all crying together and in a weird way, it makes me feel so good.
A while later, after we've all composed ourselves, Bruce makes a round of drinks and the heaviness of earlier is beginning to waft out of the room. Anna and I are still sitting on the pillows with her at my feet, but it feels less uncomfortable than it did a half hour ago.
Mom brings in a cake with what I assume is eighteen candles blazing on it. Her eyes are puffy as she tries to keep a bright smile on her face. "Can't let this go to waste. I think we all need alcohol and sugar right now."
On instinct, my head snaps to Anna and she returns my gaze with scared eyes. The knowledge that our connection hasn't been broken by my actions is the best feeling I've had in a long time. "Relax," Mom says placing it on the ottoman, "it's store-bought."
Anna smiles and crawls from her place to sit by the cake. We sing happy birthday off-key and she squeezes her eyes tight before blowing them all out in one go. She already has Harry, so I can't imagine what she wished so hard for. It makes me wonder if he was her wish last year.
The cake tastes so good after the emotional release, and the gin and tonic doesn't hurt, either. We eat in silence for a bit until Anna makes fun of Bruce having white frosting on his mustache in the form of a very inappropriate, but so Anna, joke. He pretends to get mad at her off-color humor and Mom just shakes her head. It brings back so many moments in my life that made me feel I'd never be enough.
I wipe my mouth on my napkin and put the plate on the ottoman. Stirring my drink with a plastic Howard Johnson's swizzle stick, the Band-Aid gets ripped. It's time to explain. "I wanted to pose for that magazine."
They all turn to look at me, but there's no shocked eyes, no look of disgust. They take my words and roll them around, waiting for more.
"Why?" Mom is the first to ask, and she puts her half-eaten cake on the tray.
I look at the ceiling. "It felt good. It felt good to have people look at me like I was beautiful."
"You've always been beautiful. You've never lacked attention because of your looks."
"It's different." Taking a deep breath, I try to compose and convey just what it is it makes me feel. "I know I'm beautiful on the outside. But this made me feel good in a way I've never felt inside. There's a cameraman and a makeup girl and a lighting guy, and they are all there for me. They want to shoot me. I'm the center of attention. It's all about me."
"Surely there is another way to achieve that?"
"Nothing has ever given me as big a rush as seeing myself on that magazine did."
"But the content…" she trails off.
My cheeks flame. "I know it's not a tasteful photography book or even Playboy. But there's something about it that makes me feel powerful. I've made the choice, and I'm the only one that can give them what they want."
"Did Vince push you into this?" Bruce asks.
Here I hesitate. It was my choice to do it, but I squirm a little thinking about how happy he was when I agreed. How he told me he'd find someone else to do it if I wouldn't. I think about the line of girls he trailed in front of me for months, egging me on. "He introduced me to people and… wanted me to, but I agreed because I really wanted to." That isn't a lie.
Bruce murmurs under his breath, but Mom talks over him. "Have you thought about how this will affect the rest of your life? Whatever future plans you have? What will happen if this gets out? The knowledge of what you did in your youth is going to follow you around and not in a positive way. I don't want you to be a forty-year-old housewife with this skeleton in your closet."
Taking a deep breath, I tell them my truth. "I don't care about any of that. This is what I want to do. I… want to do more of this."
"You don't mean that! Rosalie, this is pornography. It's unsavory and dirty and not something someone ever chooses to be in."
"You and Bruce seem to have no problem with being open-minded in your own life. I know you went to see Deep Throat when they showed it last year downtown."
Her eyes widen. "We are adults. Married adults. I won't apologize for having a good sex life with my husband." Anna flinches, much like I do at that information. "It's completely different than being publicly humiliated in a dirty magazine!"
"There is nothing about it that humiliates me! I like the idea that men see me that way!" I yell. "See? I knew you wouldn't understand."
"I only want what's best for you, Rosalie. That's all I've ever wanted."
"Then you have to trust me that this is what's best for me. It's what I want. This is something I do well. Anna is funny, Harry has his film studies, my friends all have interests and skills they're pursuing in college or at work. This is my interest, this is my skill."
Mom puts a hand to her forehead. "Where does it end? What's next?"
"I'm going to go as far in the business as I can."
"What does that even mean?" Bruce asks, his voice low and cautious. "More magazines?'
"Fuuuck," Anna drawls, and I know she's a step ahead of them.
I take a deep, shuddering breath to steel myself. "I'm… going to make an adult film."
"Oh, Rosalie! No!" Mom puts her hand up to her throat and closes her eyes, crying again. "Please tell me you're joking!"
My silence tells them I'm not.
Bruce, a look of anger mixed with incredulity covering his face, takes over. "You will not do any such thing."
I can't bring myself to tell them I've already made a loop. "You can't stop me."
"I sure as shit will find a way!" he booms, getting to his feet. "Do you even know what you're saying?"
The thrill of the attention, the cameras, the lights… it's something I know I'm not going to get enough of. "I know exactly what I'm doing."
"I find that hard to believe!" He's pacing, shaking his head, rubbing his hand through his hair. In a weird way, part of me is finding peace from the fact he's not blasé about this. "Do you even know how seedy this business is? Are you prepared for that?"
"It's seedy if you've been forced into it. I'm choosing to do it. Besides, Vince protects me."
"If he loved you, he wouldn't force you to do this!" Bruce stops pacing and looks at the ceiling.
"He does love me, he supports me." The room falls into silence again. "Guess I was right, he's the only one. I knew you'd never understand." I stand up, ready to walk out.
"Rosalie, wait." Mom says quietly before taking a sip of her drink. She puts the glass on the ottoman, and lets out a huge breath. When she looks at me, her shoulders sag, worn-out and lifeless. "We need the phone number and address of where you're living."
Bruce snaps his gaze to her. "Lori, you aren't seriously giving your blessing to this!"
"Of course I'm not giving my blessing to this! But I'd rather she come to us and tell us what she plans to do than to run away somewhere so we don't know where she is."
"But Lori–" Bruce is bug-eyed, staring at her like she's got three heads.
She meets his stare. "I know this isn't what anyone wishes for their child, but you have to understand the person Rosalie is and the relationship we have. It's not a good one, I'm ashamed to admit, and that's most likely my fault. So if she's going to go off and do something stupid like this then I'm going to support her and make sure she's okay."
Mom gets up and grasps Bruce's arm, in a pleading gesture. "I will do anything to keep Rosalie in my life, and if that's taking a step back and letting her make bad choices, then that's what it is. I'm not going to shun her. I'm not going to turn my back on her. I'm not going to be like her father and leave when things get tough. She's making a choice, Bruce, and so am I. I don't see any other way than to stand by my daughter and be there for her if she needs me."
"It's our job to protect her." Bruce's voice cracks. "Not encourage her." He looks from Mom to me with unhappy, dejected eyes.
My throat tightens, and tears I thought I'd long shed rise to the surface. "I don't mean to put you in this position. And I know it's upsetting and not something anyone wants their daughter to be doing, but…" I take a deep breath. "I am going to do it." I wipe my wet face with both hands. "I'd still like to be a part of this family, though, if you'll let me."
Bruce rubs his eyes and stands there, eventually letting out a long, shaky sigh. It feels like an eternity until he speaks. "Is there nothing we can do to change your mind?" Bruce asks, his eyes red and his voice resigned.
I shake my head. "No."
"You always have a home here. You come here, to us, you understand?"
My hope swells a bit. "I do."
"I don't understand this," he says, before giving my arm a squeeze and walking out of the room.
Maybe someday, they all will.