Dad chewed with the grace of a bovine in my ear, the only way anyone could power through Mom’s proteins. It was a sort of frantic chew, chew, drink combination, liquid a must to clear your plate without choking. “How in the hell did he get tickets?”
“Probably from work.” I had no clue, but with his job, he’d likely met the right person at the right time to land them.
“I thought you said he works in tech? How would he get tickets to a Lorelei event?”
I pulled out the only semi-passable option, a dress leftover from cousin Kim’s wedding but the chiffon gave it away as a bridesmaid frock. Dangit.
“Maybe he bought them. I don’t know.” All I knew was that it looked like I was waking up early on a Saturday to run around shopping.
“Relax. You’d look great in seaweed, Keely.”
I studied my closet, spying a few pairs of work slacks. Maybe a dress wasn’t the way to go. “What do I wear to something like that? A pantsuit?” Yeah, that would say power.
“God no! It’s an art auction, not a damn political debate! Don’t wear a pantsuit! Think airy! Artsy…” A commotion on the other end cut him off, Mom barging into the conversation as usual. “Hold on, your mother wants to give her two cents…rather, her half dollar,” Dad grumbled.
“Keely Eileen, why would you call a man for advice on what to wear?” she shrieked. I could picture her snatching Dad’s phone away, a French-manicured hand on her hip while she chewed me out. It was a sight I’d seen hundreds of times, whether he was talking to my sister, Bridget, or one of his friends.
“He works in art!” I defended, bracing for an earful.
“He works in a dusty old suit with even dustier old men, Keely! He’s not in tune with fashion!”
And she lounged around in track suits with sexy across the butt like it was 2002. Neither parent exactly screamed fashionista.
“What do you suggest?” I sighed, dreading what was to come. I continued to shuffle through folded clothes on the top shelf, wishing a miracle dress would appear out of thin air. After a long workweek, the last thing I wanted to do was critique every angle of my body in a dressing room mirror that somehow made my butt look huge and flattened my already barely-there boobs.
“Class, Keely! Class! When you brush elbows with the elite, you need to ooze sophistication. You need a gown!”
I rolled my eyes, having seen that one coming a mile away. I didn’t want to ooze anything, and a gown seemed like the last thing people wore to an outdoor gallery. It was exactly the thing women wore at the stuffy parties she’d shuffled me to growing up.
My silence must’ve been a dead giveaway that I wasn’t taking her advice, a breathy huff overpowering her end. “You have to, Keely. People know you’re our daughter. Besides, you could meet someone looking for a pretty, little wife.”
And the other shoe dropped. Every woman on her side was wed and bred by the time they were twenty until I came along. I was two years past my expiration date in her eyes and well on my way to becoming a spinster. When I told her I signed up for grad school, I thought she’d disown me, college degrees nothing but a wall decoration for women as far as she was concerned.
“Okay, Mom.” There was no point arguing. As long as I let her think she was right, she’d give it a rest.
“Make sure it has a cinched waist. Corsets are in again, honey.”
Ha. As if. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a corset. Bodice boning was bad enough. I couldn’t imagine intentionally squishing myself like a sausage. I’d end up passing out before I got there.
“Are you even listening to me?” she groused. “You never listen to me!”
I closed my closet in defeat, mentally preparing myself for the fashion assault on my senses in the morning. “I’m listening, Mom.”
“Are you going with someone? Are you dating? Why didn’t you tell me?” she fired off, each question exploding like a rocket.
“Slow down!” Good Lord. “We aren’t dating!” For all I knew, it wasn’t even a date.
“Honey, he invited you to a Lorelei event. That isn’t something you invite a friend to.”
Of all the friggin times for her to be eavesdropping, of course it had to be then. With the Lorelei bit out of the bag, I was done for. “Mom, relax.”
“Don’t relax me, Keely Eileen! This is serious stuff! Why are you keeping secrets from your mother?”
Buckle up. A Marjorie Doyle guilt trip was about to kick off if I wasn’t careful. “Can you stop, please? This isn’t some grand conspiracy against you.”
“She’s hiding stuff from us, Sean! I told you this would happen!” A sniffle on the other end confirmed that the crocodile tears were coming. The same tears that led me to live on campus at a college less than a half hour away, eager to breathe.
I sat on the edge of my bed, a knot forming in my gut. As usual, everything was my fault. I’d long outgrown my purpose. “I want to talk to Dad.”
“No, no! We’re not finished here! Why are you acting like this?”
I counted to five in my head, a little trick I’d learned from one of the many therapists I’d seen over the years. The people that knew the ins and outs of the Doyles like no one else. Mom would be thrilled if one ever threw ethics to the wind and wrote a tell-all about us.
“I already said I’m not dating anyone. I’m single. Happily so.” Maybe the last bit wasn’t true, but my private life would remain just that - private.
“You’re impossible.” The phone dropped then, a loud bang on the other end.
“She stormed outside in a huff,” Dad murmured a moment later. “Congratulations.”
“Good,” I muttered, leaning back to sink into
