My mother flushes as she steps back, shaking her head. She heads back to the stove. “Esmerelda was let go a couple of weeks back. Your father caught her and the new maid stealing.” She clucks her tongue as she pulls oven mitts on. “I mean, can you believe the nerve of some people?”
My father usually discovers that his housemaids are treacherous once per season; it happened so often during my childhood that I could almost time it down to the week. I feel bad for the servants who are hired here, to put it bluntly.
“Well. It smells good in here,” I say, changing the subject.
My mother blushes and smiles at me. “Thank you, Chickadee. We should be ready to eat soon.”
Slipping my backpack off, I carry it over to the bar where my sister is sitting. I set my stuff on the ground and slide into a seat.
“How is school going, Hazel?” I ask politely.
She doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Better than it did for you, I assume.”
I squint at her words. She’s almost certainly a worse student than I was. Ballet academies don’t screw around when it comes to grades. Mine was no different.
“Girls, be nice,” my mother says. “Hazel, we only have Kaia here once a month. Let’s keep it civil.”
Hazel looks up at me and sticks out her tongue. I flip her the bird and she immediately tells on me. “Mom! Kaia just told me to go fuck myself!”
“I swear, you two,” Mom says, whirling around. “Quit it, both of you.”
My dad’s steps suddenly break the tension, sounding like thunder coming down the stairs. I bite my lip. Hazel smirks.
My mother tucks her hair behind her ear nervously. We all turn toward the doorway, waiting. Three little arrows, primed and quivering, just waiting for him to release us.
Eventually he stalks into the room, muttering angrily. Tall, blond, and heavyset, my father is dressed in khakis and a white polo. He rakes him hand through his thinning hair and glances at the three of us.
“That was the fourth call I’ve gotten that was pre-recorded JUNK!” he declares. “I’ve told you time and time again, Serena. You sign up for these…” He makes a gesture. “These lists and then I’m left getting my fucking phone called twenty times a day! It’s fucking ridiculous!”
My mother doesn’t even blink at the accusation in his tone. “They are the worst. I’m sorry, honey.”
My father hikes his belt up, shaking his head. “I’m not dealing with that shit anymore, Serena. You can’t expose us like that.”
My mother nods, as if he’s giving her sage advice. Before his barb even lands, he’s already swinging his gaze around to Hazel and me. “Why are you dressed so casually, Kaia? In this house, we have a dress code.”
I struggle to keep my feelings off my face. “I didn’t know, Dad. I’m sorry.”
He takes a couple steps closer. “Your sister and your mother are wearing skirts. I expect you to dress up like a woman when you want to come to dinner here.”
This is entirely new since the last time I visited, just over a month ago. I swallow, bobbing my head. “Yes, sir.”
My mother hastily turns to us with a platter of roast chicken and vegetables clutched between two potholders. “Why don’t we sit down and eat?”
My father gives me a look as I stand up, shaking his head on the way to the formal dining room table. The table is long and glossy, laid with an extensive place setting for each of us, undoubtedly my mother’s doing. Dad sits at the head of the table and my mom hurries to set the chicken down in front of him. Hazel and I take our places across from each other as he clears his throat and starts to carve.
My mom rushes back to the kitchen, retrieving several more dishes. My dad serves himself first, then Hazel. My mom sets a perfectly poured pint of beer at his place, then scurries to her seat.
My dad takes a bite of his food, seeming to forget that my mother and I are yet to be served. I stand and move to grab the platter of food. My dad growls at me, his mouth still full.
“Manners, Kaia!”
Hazel smirks at me, picking up her fork and putting a piece of chicken in her mouth. It takes my father another minute to serve me and my mom tiny portions of chicken and vegetables.
“I’m trying to help you both out here,” he says, passing our plates back. “You both tend toward having fat asses. You guys both take after Serena’s mother, who was herself practically a fucking cow. She was disgusting.”
I glance toward my mother. I’ve never seen my mother bigger than a size two except when she was pregnant. But she just smiles benevolently down the table at my father, like he’s really doing something great for her.
“Thank you, Robert. You always look out for us,” she says. She glances around the table. “All of us should be very thankful.”
Hazel has a piece of chicken hanging from her mouth when she mumbles, “Thanks, Dad!”
“Thank you,” I echo quietly.
I look down at my plate, eying the tiny portions with a silent sigh. No sooner have I sliced a tiny piece of chicken off and popped it into my mouth does my father begin.
“When do you graduate again?” he asks, putting an elbow on the table. He spears a huge bite and chews it with relish.
“At the end of January.”
“And when do you hear back from New York Ballet?”
My cheeks turn pink. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten my audition date yet. There are a lot of factors, like how many more people they have auditioning after me.”
He points his fork at me. “That’s not good enough, Kaia. I need a date.”
I swallow, dropping my eyes. “I’ll try to find out, Dad.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to ask you again,” he grunts.
“She is probably too busy with her social life to even pay attention to something like an important deadline,” Hazel says cattily.
I huff a laugh. “Social life? Have you never seen how much I practice? There is barely enough time left over for me to sleep.”
My dad fixes me with a glare. “I don’t like sarcastic comments or snark in my house, young lady. Now apologize to your sister.”
I give Hazel at dead-eyed stare. “Sorry.”
My father isn’t finished, though. He sets his fork down and leans in. “I would hope that you would have some fucking manners by now. I’ve spent almost twenty years and hundreds of thousands of dollars on your education and training as a dancer.”
My neck heats. “Yes, sir. I plan to repay you every cent.”
Everyone goes quiet. The idea of me earning that much money in my whole lifetime does seem absurd, on its face.
“Unless you have a check for the whole amount, I’m not interested. And I know that you will never have that kind of money. I mean, look at yourself, Kaia. You’ll never be worth anything to anyone outside of this family.”
My cheeks burn. He’s right, of course. It does seem impossible.
I sneak a glance at my mother. She is chewing quietly, looking at her plate. No help is forthcoming from that quarter, not that I’m the least bit surprised.
My dad clears his throat and shoots me a glare.
“You’re using the wrong goddamn fork. Did I not send you to cotillion and spend my hard earned money on you learning basic table manners?” He shakes his head, disgusted. “You should be a lady, like your sister.”