A mirror too small

Celia took one last glance at her reflection in the vanity. She saw herself. Celia, the first daughter of Percy Wetmore. There was no question about that. The hazelnut eyes and curved nose were enough evidence. The real question was if any of that would matter after tonight.

She swirled and the lacy edge of her knee-length gown spread themselves out like a disk spinning on a spindle. The crystal gems in her earrings glittered like the diamonds they were designed to look like.

“Celia, would you please walk away from that mirror and come assist me down in the kitchen. It’s not my boyfriend that’s coming over.”

Celia giggled. “I’m not at the mirror mom, just tidying up my room,” she replied and made out of her room and all its girlish pinkness.

“You are tidying up your room?” a male voice boomed. It was her dad, the soldier of the house. The soldier that never served in any army of man.

“Yes,” Celia said as she stepped out of her room. Her auburn hair flowed over her shoulders like waters from a fresh spring. The smiles and giggles she made were completely out of her control.

“Why are you tidying up your room? Does your boyfriend know you both won’t be using it tonight?” Percy asked with extra bass in the voice.

“Mr. Wetmore!”

 He threw his hands in the air as he began to descend the stairs. “I was just saying, a fellow can never be too careful.”

“He’s a Christian,” Celia declared as she stepped into the kitchen. Her mother gave her a tray of desserts to place on the dining table.

“Well, so was your dad,” Michelle said and looked away quickly.

Percy froze. His hand was halfway sitting down. “Now Michelle Wetmore, whatever did you say that for?”

Celia and Michelle shared mischievous wink between themselves.

Percy glanced at his wristwatch. “Your boyfriend would be here anytime soon. I better go change,” he said and rose to his feet.

“Oh Dad,” Celia cried, “You look great already.”

Percy grunted. “I didn’t know sports jerseys and shorts were the best outfits for a meeting like this, you must have your mother’s terribly flawed sense of fashion. I should be in a smart-looking tux, not an Arsenal shirt over Chelsea shorts.”

Celia’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said. “Be quick about it, will you?” she gave him a hurried kiss on his stubbled cheeks.

“Alright now, that’s enough with painting my cheeks with your lipstick. Your mom is gonna forget who kissed me and break a bottle on my head later tonight.”

“You are the one to talk, Percy,” Michelle called after him but he was already up the stairs and gone.

“Oh, mom. Do you think Dad will be okay when he finds out?” Celia cooed. Her hands were clasped as if in prayer and raised up to her lips.

Michelle gave a worried sigh. “I don’t know Celia, you made your choice, let him make his.”

******

At exactly 6:00pm, three faint knocks sounded on the Wetmore’s door.

Percy chuckled. “This boyfriend of yours must have a woman’s hands. Only they knock on the door like cats. We men are more like dogs, we don’t always land with grace.”

Celia bit at her lower lips. She stood up with shaky legs and went for the door. If Percy hadn’t changed the bulbs to tungsten because he wanted the dining to have candlelight without lighting candles, he’d have noticed the extreme whiteness of Celia’s white face. Or the way her eyes were completely snowed out. But he didn’t notice all of that. Somehow.

Michelle reached out from beside him and placed a hand over his.

Percy glanced down at his hands on the table. He choked. “The last time you held my hand like this, we had just lost our son,” his eyes met hers, “that happened ten years ago.”

She withdrew her hand with the same silence she put it forward.

“You look beautiful today,” Percy said, “We could go to a movie or something later on.”

‘No one will be in the mood for a movie after this dinner,’ Michelle thought.

Celia walked back to the table slowly with her boyfriend behind her. Her hands were clasped and rubbed together in the manner of a guilty child walking up to the teacher for confession.

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the lady behind Celia.

Percy stared at her. “Ho ho,” he chuckled. “Welcome lady, please have a seat.”

“Thank you, sir,” she replied and gave Michelle a slight nod of the head. The latter responded with a stiff smile.

“Okay, so, what’s your name?” Percy asked the moment the guest settled.

“Beatrice,” she replied with an unfaltering smile.

“So, Beatrice, where are you from?” Percy asked. His eyes held her grey, large eyes, and soft frame. Beatrice wasn’t small, she was curvy, almost chubby. Her blond hair bounced back the yellow rays of the tungsten bulb.

“Dad!” Celia cried.

Percy raised his hands. “What?”

“New York,” Beatrice replied with a confident calm. “I am from New York. My parents used to live in LA but we moved when I was three, so I don’t say I’m from LA, since I spent most of my life in NY.”

Percy nodded. “Oh, your bluntness is quite the NY attribute. So, in the part of NY that you are from sisters stand in the gap for their brother at occasions like this?” He turned to Michelle who dropped a napkin and bent to pick it up, taking more time than normal.

“Dad… I…”

“Yeah what? You could have just told me your best friend was coming over to see you. I had my eyes set for a young man, your boyfriend. That’s what you told me, or am I mistaken?”

Celia’s eyes shut tight.

“You haven’t told him?” Beatrice said to Celia.

“Told me what?” asked Percy. His eyes juggled between Beatrice and Celia.

“I am not her boyfriend,” Beatrice announced.

“Oh really? I am so sorry I didn’t see that. Of course, you are not her boyfriend. You are a girl, maybe her friend. I have never seen you with her anyways, so you must be a new acquaintance.”

Beatrice chuckled. “Celia and I have known each other ten years.”

Percy gaped. “Celia’s twenty,” he said and then turned to Michelle. “You hear what she said? She’s known our daughter for half her life and we never knew that.”

There was no response. No sound. Only a sniff came from across the table. Over the wine and food set elaborately. Celia spoke:

“Dad,” she began. “There’s no boyfriend.”

He scoffed. “Then why are gathered then? What’s the point of all these?” he waved over the table. “what’s the essence of this?” he was pulling at his tie now. His eyes bulged red in their sockets.

“There’s no boyfriend…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“Oh, please Percy! Let the girl talk,” It was Michelle. The veins along her neck stood out like giant worms.

Percy stared at daughter, wife, and guest. “Okay,” he said in a subdued tone. “Okay.”

Celia licked at her lips. “Dad, there’s no boyfriend because I am the boyfriend.”

For a moment, the only sound anyone at that table could hear was the sound of their own ragged breathing.

“Celia,” Percy called severely. “Have you been drinking?”

“No, dad.”

“What the fu—damn I’m—I’m about cursing, you are making me want to curse,” Percy rubbed his face with a hand. “This better not be what I am thinking.”

“What are you thinking?” Michelle asked in a voice devoid of any emotion.

“That Celia’s lesbian.”

Michelle exhaled. “At last, you figured it out.”

“What?! Celia, is that true?”

Celia sniffed and whispered, yes.

“Beatrice, you are a les?”

“Yes, I am. I am your daughter’s partner,” she replied. The smile she came in with was still on her face, almost like it was waxed there.

Percy looked like he had just lost his memory. He turned to Michelle. “Hey, you knew about this too?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years.”

He relaxed back into his seat and closed his eyes for what seemed like an eternity.

“Dad…”

“Get out.”

“Go to your room Celia,” Michelle ordered.

Percy’s eyes flew open. Even in the low light, the rage in them shone like hot coals. “No, she doesn’t go inside her room. She gets out of my house.”

“What?! You can’t do that. She is our daughter!”

“Which is exactly why you’d be getting out with her too…”

“Mr. Percy, I…”

“And you too beetle, get out of my house. NOW!”

Beatrice stood up and hurried out of the house.

“Michelle and Celia, have you two been making out while I am outside? Sharing vibrators and doing all sorts to each other?”

“What? NO!” Michelle said feverishly.

“Just get out of the house, I don’t want to see you and that girl.”

“That girl is your daughter Percy," Michelle cried out in a broken voice, "her sexuality doesn’t change that.”

Percy stared at Celia’s sobbing figure. For a moment, he seemed to have regained his calm but the storm returned. “Not anymore.” He stood up from his seat and turned the table. “Get out!”

Mother and daughter scurried out of the house like rain-drenched rats.

“It is a fucking nice dinner! Fuck you all.”