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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍
𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐔, 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀
ELEANOR
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'Knock knock.'
Margo's brown head peeped from the edge of her book. My own eyes looked back at me, confused and surprised. Astonishment was heavy every time Margo looked at me, wondering how such a beautiful specimen of a child had come to be ours.
Margaret's bedroom was something I loved coming to. It was, to Tony's disappointment, furnished on a staggeringly low budget. There was a wooden cradle in which she had grown out of on the farthest end and a rocking chair which faced the enormous window. Margo loved warm colours - oranges, greens and browns - and I was sure that came from my side. Margo had gotten the view of the hillside instead of the sea, nothing compared to the broad view of the farm mural that the Starks had gotten done for her second birthday.
'Did I do something?' She asked, biting her lip in nervousness.
'Of course not,' I smiled. 'I just wanted to kiss my favourite girl goodnight.'
Her lips formed a pout. 'But, Daddy always does that.'
I gulped down the stiffness in my throat, staging an open front. It hurt to hear those words leave her naive mouth and yes, kids are told to never lie yet it clenched my heart to no extent. I knew how much she adored Tony - how could she not? - and sometimes, a small part of me wished to be in Tony's shoes. What I wouldn't give to be to my daughter's idol, wound a strong maternal bond and teach her that she is born equal to men. And then I would quickly suppress it down, dismissing it as jealousy talks.
'Would you let me do it tonight?'
She smiled, nodding. 'Sure.'
I made a short trail to beside her bed, settling for a soft quirk of my lips. She shifted a little so she could sit upright, tossing her book to the side so she could pay attention to me. I saw a stray curl set over her cheek and I reached out to push it behind her specs.
'How was school?'
'It was okay,' she said in a small voice. 'I guess, I dunno.'
I sensed the uneasiness in her tone and approached it with a gentle tone. 'What's the matter, darling?'
'I don't think they like me,' she confessed after a long sigh. Her eyes were downcast, plucking the loose weaves of the eiderdown. 'They think I'm too rich to be in school.'
