Marjorie Kingston: Surviving Suburbia

Janice and Deborah

Marjorie Kingston stared at the expansive house, breathing out slowly.  A chandelier of diamonds hung in the foyer, accentuating the pale grey walls and tasteful white furniture.  A tap on her shoulder made her jerk.

"May I take your coat?" asked a maid, reaching out her hands.  Marjorie nodded, shrugging off her coat and exposing her large, rounded stomach. 

"And the child's?"  Marjorie smiled down at her daughter, placing a hand on her back. She had missed Winnie during her two month honeymoon in Europe with Charlie.

"Darling, can you give the maid your coat?"  Her daughter nodded, taking off the pale pink coat.

"Good job, Winnie." Taking her daughter's hand, she led her up the stairs.

"Mom, is this where we're going to be living?" asked Winnie, looking up at Marjorie with large brown eyes.

"Yes, Winnie. This is where we're going to be living." But even as she said it, it didn't seem true. No way could she be married to a millionaire, have kids, be in love, AND be able to provide a good education to her kids.

••••••••••••••••••••

Marjorie knocked on the bathroom door, then scuttled into the bathroom when no one relied. The damn pregnancy made her have to pee all the time. Relieving herself, she grabbed a magazine off the stack. Flipping through it quickly, nothing seemed to grab her attention. Cleaning herself up and checking her appearance in the mirror, she went back out. Making her way through the expansive house to the dining room.

Her long red dress swept across the wooden floor, reminding her off the carpet-and-laminate-floor-apartment in the city that she left behind. Smiling and rubbing a hand on her stomach, she arrived in the dining room.

It as a large space painted a darker grey with lots of china. Enough to pay for two lifetimes.

"Hello, darling," greeted her husband- whom she had just married two months ago. Charlie Kingston was a sixty-year-old grey fox of a man that made all the ladies swoon. Sitting down at the other end of the table, she smiled at him, blue eyes lighting up with happiness.

"Hello, darling," she replied, smiling and twisting the diamond ring that sat nicely on her finger.

Winnie looked between them, sipping her grape juice from a champagne glass. Marjorie saw, and gasped.

"Charlie! Why is she drinking out a champagne glass?  It encourages her to drink when she's older!"

"Oh, come on Margie. That's years away. Let the girl have some fun." Marjorie shook her head, sipping the club soda that Esperanza the cook had given her.

"Mamma, please," begged Winnie, brown eyes so big they could be in a cartoon.

"Alright, fine." Winnie squealed with glee, then hopped up.

"Mom, Dad, I want to eat in the kitchen. Esperanza was telling me a story and I want to finish it." Marjorie nodded, waving her daughter away. Once Winnie had disappeared into the kitchen, Marjorie stood, walking over to where Charlie sat.

"You know, darling, I'm not that hungry." Charlie stood, meeting her halfway.

"Oh?" Marjorie kissed him, smiling.

"No." Charlie put his hands on her hips, kissing back, backing her towards the table. Just as her thighs hit the table a knock on the door sounded. Marjorie broke away.

"Damnit."

"Griselda will get it," Charlie said, pulling her chin back so she could face him.

"I know. But I still want to see who it is." Marjorie stepped away and Charlie watched her go. Walking over to the door-as the foyer was right next to the dining room-just as Griselda came down the stairs, Marjorie opened the door.

Two women stood there, casseroles in hand and smiles plastered to their faces.

"Hi! We're Janice and Deborah.  We live just around the corner on Screaming Child Lane."  Marjorie laughed.

"Hi, I'm Marjorie Kingston.  Wait- is that what it's really called?"  The women laughed.

"No, it's 3rd Avenue.  We just call it that because Stinky Sue Ellen lets her kids cry all night.  Says she's ferberizing them."

"Oh."  Marjorie chuckled awkwardly.  The taller of the two- a beautiful, pale-skinned woman with long black hair-leaned in and whispered,

"They're nine years old.  And they still cry."  The shorter blonde added,

"People say it's because she didn't stop breastfeeding until they were four."

"How is that even possible," asked Marjorie, aghast.  The taller lady spoke again:

"We'll tell you if you let us in."  Marjorie nodded.

"Silly me, I'm so sorry. Come in, come in."  Beckoning them in and Griselda forward to come take their coats, Marjorie kept smiling.  Griselda took the casseroles.

Leading the guests into the living room, she smiled.

"So, how?"

"Well, we don't exactly know."

"You tricked me!"

"Well, we had no idea if you were actually going to let us in, and it's cold, so we had to do something!" exclaimed the short blonde.

"Wait-who's Janice and who's Deborah?" 

The short blonde pointed to herself.

"I'm Janice-that's Deborah."  Deborah smiled, then added,

"And we're here to teach you how to survive White Mom Suburbia."

Hi!  So, this is my first Wattpad book and I'm just doing it for laughs!  Hope you enjoy!

-Rowan