To Have and To Hold

Arriving home was made worse by the certainty that my parents would be waiting up for me, my mother a flutter of anticipation - her eldest daughter settling down at last. The outside light put me under the spotlight as I fumbled unnecessarily with the front door lock, putting off the inevitable - my mother's face beaming above her pink floral dressing gown; my father's quiet confidence of good news.

My mother took one look at my face, then marched ahead of me to the living room.

"Turn that TV off Vern, things did not go well". Mother's whispers were always perfectly audible. My father and I hovered awkwardly while tea was prepared in the kitchen.

He patted my shoulder. "He's not worthy of you, my dear".

Pouring tea, my mother was all false brightness. She had turned obfuscation about my spinster status into an art form. Settling into an armchair with her cup, she launched into her chosen diversionary tactic - let's visit Shelley and the twins on Thursday! I could delay no longer. I held out my left hand for their inspection, the diamond glittering in the lamplight. I endured their congratulations, my mother's excited twittering - she had always known Charlie was the one.

My parents could no longer see it, but I knew it was still reflected in my face; that I was about to end my life as I knew and loved it, my days with my microscopes and petri dishes, of learning and discovery. The adverts had delivered on their promises, I couldn't complain. I had used the right skin cream, the right toothpaste, and achieved the ultimate goal. I was going to become what the world really wanted me to be - a wife and mother.

Featured in "Noticing Newbies Newsletter (August 17, 2016)"