Danae knew right away that this was going to be annoying.
Mom and dad... Frank... Tina... aw crap, Mister and Missus Alonso?
Parents, siblings, and kindly next-door neighbors; all waiting for her in the home she grew up in, sitting in chairs arranged in a semicircle facing the only way into the living room. Her feet slowed, but she kept following her mother in from the front door, even as she began rotating her head from left to right.
Only thing missing is... and there it is.
When Danae's dad slid in behind his wife and eldest daughter, wordlessly blocking the way back while crossing his big arms in front of his chest and giving her that dour frown that had always had her on the verge of confessing things she'd never even known she did wrong... well, all ambiguity flew out the window then.
"So mom, you left a little out of your invitation. Your famous peanut butter pie... with a side of intervention? That's way too much baking for one afternoon."
"For what it's worth, I just wanted the pie, but I was told in very clear terms that I had to be here to... how'd you put it, mom?" Her little brother, Frank, as always, was trying not to laugh out loud at the comedy of it all. "We're going to '
figure out if a pod-person stole your big sister.'"
He kept chuckling, right up until their mom calmly strode up to him and pinched him on the meat of his upper arm. "Ow! What the fuck?
I'm
not the one who went all Stepford out of nowhere!" To the continued glares of nearly everyone, he just rubbed the spot, merely the latest of untold hundreds over the years, while muttering about how it'd better be the best damn pie in the universe.
"Dear, your brother is... your brother, God love him, but he actually is concerned." Missus Alonso, basically Danae and her siblings' co-mother the entirety of their youth, had not an ounce of mirth in those dark brown eyes. "We all are. You have not been yourself lately, to put it lightly."
"You went fucking nuts, Dannie." Tina, the baby of the family--even at thirty--had very definite ideas of what was proper and improper, and she was never,
never
shy in voicing them. "Stepford." She snorted. "You make
those
wives look like bohemians."
"I... Okay. I guess I understand I may be acting a bit odd, if you're looking from the outside." Danae raised her hands, palms up, and spread her arms wide. "But an
intervention
?" She focused on her mom, whom she knew for a certainty was the genesis of this event. "C'mon. I'm just a little... subdued now. I'm not a raging meth-head on a crack bender losing her life savings in the casino, or whatever would really justify--"
"Are you safe?" Her dad, as ever, cut right to what he needed to know. "He's not forcing you, is he? Not threatening, not hurt--"
"Do not finish that sentence, dad." Danae shut right down. "Next word in that fucked-up sequence, and I will literally jump through your window and run until you never find me again.
With him."
"Honey, it's just not like you." Her mom, ever the good hostess, pulled out a chair for Danae. Right in the center of the half-circle of judgement, of course. "We didn't raise... we can't understand how..." She gritted her teeth and took a long, deep breath to gather herself. "We all saw you at the party last week. How you just... stayed there by his side the entire time. Head down, mouth shut. And how he, every minute or so, put a hand on your back to... guide you, I suppose."
"He kept pushing you where
he
wanted you to go." Tina barked that out, unable to hold her peace. "Like a... a sheepdog." She narrowed her eyes. "By the way, saying
sheepdog
was me being diplomatic."
"It, uh... yeah. It was kinda rough." Frank scratched his head, wincing apologetically. "Threw even me for a loop."
Danae just grunted noncommittally, then focused on the holdout. Stately old Mister Alonso, with his dark, mahogany skin, meticulously styled silver hair, and shining gold crucifix hanging halfway down his chest. "And you?"
"I... am withholding judgment, Danae." His eyes danced, but his voice didn't reflect that. "Withholding, but ready if need be, depending on what story you tell." He spared a long look for the rest of his co-conspirators then. "When she finally gets a chance to tell it, that is."
Danae nodded, mostly to herself, and took the chair her mom was still standing by. She ran her pale fingers through her black hair and sighed. "Fine. I'll take this in the spirit it's meant, that you all love me and want the best for me... and not how it seems. Like you're ready to hogtie me and lock me in the basement for deprogramming."
Satisfied by that, for the moment, her family all settled in their respective spots--though her dad's was still conveniently blocking the way out--and readied themselves to pretend to listen just long enough for civility's sake before they rained down holy judgement on her.
Fine. You asked for it.
"All right folks, I'll tell you my story. I'll tell you why I am how I am now, and why I don't regret it for a second." She sharpened her gaze, and made sure she was perfectly clear. "
Not one, single, solitary second."
They didn't like that, but, to their credit, they didn't interrupt. She nodded again. "Okay then. I suppose it has to start with what I did."
Despite the confidence she tried to infuse into her voice, she was anything but, deep inside.
I never had to just... confess this before, all at once.
Still, it was what had to happen. Danae eyed them all one-by-one. "Remember, you asked for this. Once we step through this door... well, maybe you should just give up whatever it is you've been hoping for."
And with that, she began the journey.
__________
The last person I expected to see was Virginia, all dressed up in an elegant, tasteful evening gown. Not right before Easter. For someone with her wealth, it's almost adorable how much she loves that quaint little holiday; loves planning egg-hunts, and decorating, and good old-fashioned gorging on chocolate. For her to just suddenly pop up out of nowhere that night, when I was strolling through the woods surrounding that huge mansion... it made no sense.
Not unless she was sent.
Shit. I was caught.
Fine then. It was going to happened sooner or later, and I'd been prepping myself for this final plunge for a good long time.
"Gin." I affected nonchalance as I nodded to my husband's sister in greeting, not quite looking at her full-on, and trying, maybe even succeeding, in not sneering at her. I'd always tried to just accept her for the lovely person she was, but it was difficult. She was everything I wasn't; tall, willowy, streamlined, and hard, like an old, marble statue in Rome, or something. Beautiful, no doubt, but I'm beautiful too, and if
I
ever had any doubt, the absolute legion of men--barely even
mostly
men--who's eyes locked right onto my chest like a magnet on steel was only even sort of matched by the number that did double-takes when they saw my face; like they couldn't believe I had the entire package.
No, it wasn't Virginia's beauty I envied; it was her sophistication. She had a dancer's stride and a poet's sentiment, and I never felt like my low-class ass could measure up to that. Worse? She had Beatty's... um... she had his... confidence. Something I'd
thought
I'd had right up till that very minute. Something I'd planned to keep wringing from my husband for all it was worth.
Didn't matter, I knew I'd adjust quickly enough. Sudden change was something I'd found out I was very well suited for.
Virginia didn't greet me back. Instead, she looked me up and down, cataloging the slinky, red, form-fitting dress that was side-slit up to my friggin' belly button, revealing my nylon-covered leg... and not-at-all-covered rump, nice as it is. My ostentatious crimson statement to the world. Thing was, she didn't even look like she was critical of the outfit, so I went ahead and took care of that. I filled my lungs and puffed out my chest, and, sure enough, a nipple popped free once a more-than-generous boob slid
juuust
a little too far past the edge of the insanely low-cut neck.
"Quite the school seminar you've been sent to, Danae." Virginia pressed her lips together tightly as I, slowly, tucked my tit back in place. "The dress code is eclectic, that's for sure. Is this called
Elementary Teacher Couture
, or something? Either way, it fits you."
What was that supposed to mean? Fits me? She should have thought I was just a dowdy schoolmarm still. She didn't know the new,
real