"I'm losing my mind," Mallory exhaled into the wall phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, its cord stretched as long as possible within the confines of the kitchen. "I don't know how much longer I can stay at home with nothing to do."
That much was true. It was only the middle of the week and Mallory had completed everything she wanted to for the rest of the week. Kafka's novel was finished and awaited its return to Gwen. An hour was spent doing an afternoon's work in her garden and in front of her home--tending to new perennials and pulling weeds that began to sprout. Careful hands cleaned the interior of her car, detailing until the machine was more pristine than if it came from the lot. Every room in her home, minus the kitchen, looked like it came from Better Homes and Gardens, the layouts reorganized to allow a better flow and appear larger. All she was able to achieve in her kitchen was better structuring, arranging the items within cabinets in a way that made the most sense: that was her goal yesterday.
But right now, her kitchen was the outlier in an otherwise immaculate home.
Multitasking between making dinner and chatting on the phone, she had spilled wine down the front of her apron. White fabric was tossed in the sink and covered with a bleach/water mixture. Thankfully, it didn't have time to seep through to her shirt. What did end up getting all over her was the flour from the pot pie crust she had been making, but that was a small price to pay for a meal that she was craving. Unfortunately, her plans were ruined. The pie ended up face down against white tiled floors after a loose grip when transferring it between the counter and the preheated oven. So she was stuck on her knees, picking up the sliced vegetables and chicken that had broken through the top layer of dough and returning them to the aluminum pan.
Jennifer snorted, and Mal could picture the eye roll. "Staying home was the best decision I've made."
The pan was tossed into the trash can unceremoniously. "I'm not like you Jenny. I'm not housewife material." And as she said that, she was back on her knees, wiping away the food residue before finally washing her hands.
"You said that about marriage too, and look at you now. It's only a matter of time before you and Ted have kids, and then you'll never want to leave home."
She hoped her big sister was joking, but the conviction in her voice proved otherwise. "You sound like Eileen," Mallory asserted, opening the freezer and pulling out a prepackaged pizza.
"Is she wrong?"
The frozen dough was tossed into the oven without much effort, the heat warming the brunette's face until she closed the door. She turned the timer on for fifteen minutes. "I won't be pressured by both of you to bring a child into the world at the expense of my career."
A heavy sigh came through the receiver. "Don't take this the wrong way, but how can you compare unconditional love to aspiring to work as a low-level politician at best?"
Baffled, Mallory leaned against the wall, the cord slowly collapsing into itself. Of course her sister would think that way. Jennifer was Eileen reincarnate when it came to wifely duties and the perceived idea of what a woman should be. Jennifer, the poster child. Jennifer, their mother's favorite. Jennifer, who could do no wrong and always knew what someone needed. Jennifer, happy with whatever she got. Jennifer, who never wanted, never took, never expected.
Jennifer, the opposite of Mallory.
"We have different priorities," Mal corrected, hoping to keep her voice as non confrontational as possible. "I'm happy you find so much worth in taking care of Patrick and Michael, but that's not what Ted and I want."
She wasn't entirely sure what Ted wanted when it came to children. They've had plenty of conversations when they were dating and engaged about kids, but it never surpassed either of them answering "someday". The discussion was always tabled for another time, hoping that when they brought it back up, one of them would be able to give an estimation of when to start trying and how many (if any) they wanted. Since they had been married, it was never brought back up, and Mallory wasn't sure if she should be okay with that or not.
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YOU ARE READING
Superior
Romance"You're superior to him, remember that. Now hit him harder." Amidst the radical, feminist movements of the 90's, a younger, inquisitive, and newly married Mallory Morgan finds herself amongst unusual company-a mistress and her slave. She hadn't a c...