“Ladies, we must really come to a decision for the centrepieces – peonies or roses?” pressed the Co-Chair of the Committee, as she tapped her pen against the glass tabletop in obvious irritation. Laughter, intertwined with the gentle scraping of silverware against dishes and the clinking of glasses, echoed around the pristinely dressed women making up the Committee as they conversed around the dining tables in Manhattan’s esteemed Chatwel Hotel.
Serena surveyed the dining room, weary of the superficial discussions surrounding her, spoken by women those only characteristics mirrored the depth of their conversations. They all possessed the same air of false entitlement, which admittedly, she too had naively harboured. Having lived a life filled with wealth and extravagance in the Carter Household, she was afforded luxuries envied by many, which had previously made her conceited. Presently, however, Serena wanted nothing more than to flee, never looking back upon those pathetically, shallow women. Yet she remained seated, maintaining the graceful smile upon her lips, which she had perfected eleven years ago.
She heard the sound of table legs scraping across the marble flooring inside her father's study, followed by the loud shattering of some fragile object. Drawing her lacrosse stick into an offensive stance, Serena slowly crept up the stairs, the fatigue caused from practice quickly overpowered by a surge of adrenaline pulsing through her veins. Reaching the first floor landing in her family’s Upper Eastside apartment, she tip-toed towards the slightly ajar door of her father’s study. Light poured through the gap, illuminating her horror. A woman lay crumpled against the displaced coffee table in the centre of the study, with a foreboding male figure towering over her. Scattered pieces of broken crystal dusted the floor around her, once belonging to a whisky decanter, which proudly sat on her father’s desk. The man’s hand drew up behind him, the light illuminating the Carter signet ring on his last finger before it was brought down onto the woman’s face. “Nothing to say now, dear wife?” he spat. Her mother's head fell limply to the side, catching movement outside the door. Serena gasped, as she moved forward in an act to reprieve her mother from the assault, but halted mid-step. She was not naive regarding the strength her father possessed; that, combined with his obvious fury infused cowardice in her, fearing his aggression could be diverted to an easier target. Her. Creeping backwards, she lightly threaded into the sanctuary of her bedroom, quietly closing the door.
Her body tensed as she heard the turning of her bedroom’s doorknob, pulling her knees up to her chest in a protective manoeuvre. She looked towards the doorway, staring upon her mother in shame, hating her weakness as she surveyed the angry, red swellings surfacing over her cheekbones and arms. However, her mother did not reproach her for not intervening, but stared into her daughter’s silver eyes with relief. Thankful for the mercy bestowed upon her daughter for remaining outside the bounds of the study. Serena slowly rose from her bed, cautiously approaching her mother before carefully wrapping her arms around her slight frame. She shuddered as tears ran down her face unrestrained, illustrating the guilt and anguish she felt for her mother. Raw rage escalated inside of her, threatening to rip apart her body from the inside out. Her mother pulled her close, gently stroking Serena’s hair in a calming motion. “Breathe”, she murmured, soothing her daughter. “Breathe.” Serena’s breaths slowly evened, relaxing the tightening of her throat and uncasing her vocal cords.
"Why?" she whispered.
That single word shrouded them in inexpressible grief as unspoken realisation surfaced without explanation. Silence hung thickly in the air before her mother sighed. “My darling, nothing is what it seems.” Images flashed through her fourteen year-old mind of her parents gazing fondly at each other as they continuously danced and laughed together during parties and fundraisers. She suddenly realised such affection rarely transpired into their household. They were reserved. Distant. Serena tilted her head back, searching for answers within dark silver-grey eyes so similar to her own. Her mother nodded knowingly, looking deeply into her daughter’s eyes, unburying the truth that she already knew.
