Not My Parent's Favorite

Chapter 1

Mari

Living under the shadow of my family's reputation is a constant reminder to me that I wished I was adopted. My sister, Vicki and I were the 'girls' of the family and in my Father's eyes it meant we were to be seen and not heard.

My life isn't going as expected. It seems as though I have been raised to be a trophy wife for someone way before I was born. My family is prominent and well known in the community. We have everything we need and more. However, I don't think that defines me. I have dreams and aspirations that I want to fulfill, but since I was little, I've been groomed to be someone's wife. I know if I shout to the rafters to them of what I want to do with my own life, my parents will disown me. Just like they did my sister.

Vicki didn't want to take over the life and business that comes with being a Worthington, so she decided to live her life. I remembered the day they kicked her out with absolutely nothing. She had dreams of becoming a Social Worker and activist to help the Black community learn how to become homeowners and business owners. My Father and the generations before him looked down on people who hadn't come from a family with financial stability, as if they didn't start somewhere on someone's field.

My mother wanted Vicki to be a trophy wife, like her. Even though we all know the secrets that are being held between Mother and Father. Vicki and I never wanted to be trophy wives for men who only look good on paper, but at home they would rather lay with other women than to be with those they have married. Mother is fully aware of what he is doing, but she would rather save face and ignore it because my Father is a noteworthy figure in society; She was just a poor lil' Black girl from the southside of Chicago that knew how to give good ass head and make pretty babies - A woman who, as Father would say, "knows her place."

"Hey girl," Vicki said as I walked into her living room. "How are you doing?"

"I'm good."

"Really?" She tilted her head to the side, waiting for me to tell the truth.

"You already know how it is, I ain't gotta tell you." I said, rolling my eyes and flopping down on the couch.

"Girl, you know I know." Vicki opened a small container on the table, pulled out a pre-rolled

blunt and lit it.

"Since when did you start smoking again?" I asked as she inhaled deeply.

"Since I left the house." Vicki blew the smoke in my direction. I scrunched my face in the smoke. "You wanna hit it?"

"No thank you, I'm good." I said waving the smoke away.

"Don't worry, if you stay in that house long enough, you'll be smoking soon enough. Just to maintain your sanity." She laughed and pulled on the blunt again.

She might be right. She tried smoking cigarettes but she couldn't hide it in the house. I guess the smell of weed was a lot easier to hide than the smell of cigarettes.

She started smoking marijuana when Mother and Father told her that she had been matched for an arranged marriage. It was common in our family. The 'Family' wanted to make sure the money stayed amongst us therefore she was matched with another wealthy family. Father thought the rich should marry rich.

"You're probably right," I quipped looking at her as she took a long inhale. "You know they made the match right?" Vicki looked at me, blew out her smoke and shook her head.

"I knew you would be next," she said, tapping her ash. "You sure you don't want to hit this? You might need this more than me."

"Not right now." I closed my eyes and tried to understand my family and ask God why I was born with them.