Hard To Swallow

“Why won’t you look at me, dad?” Kate demands with a broken, sorrowful voice. These were the first words uttered for hours since ‘the argument’. Kate has spent all year being in lectures for her masters degree. And now she is suffering through another, on her first night of summer break? She had been trying to ignore any passive aggressive contempt she’d been receiving this evening, but this time it was too much for her to burden with. The silence had to stop.

“Mum? Am I suppose to say sorry?”. Both parents squirm slightly in their seats at the interrogating questions. “I’m not sorry. I’m not gunna apologise. I’m not allowed to feel ashamed, not today”. The silence continues between her bursts. Only a petty patter of rain to the window is heard. 

A bulb flickers within the core light above their heads. A sun beacon, beaming its irritating blinking over the table fit for aristocracy. Utensils are placed with symmetrical accuracy at every space and only the finest plates and glasses are laid. Nothing is out of place in this modern day palace. Yet no decorum was presented by the hosts tonight. 

Kate is now 22, but she still holds on to her gothic roots. Black hair and piercings on her lip and septum. Tattoos peeking out and around her black vest top, one tattoo features a slogan too obscene for such a formal occasion. Dark eyeliner flows around her aqua blue eyes with a flick at each end, a signature touch to staple attitude to her face. These were all visual alterations that also brought upon her lectures and disappointment from her uptight caregivers. 

Her college graduation pictures were far from flattering either. Something of a spectacle for her superb, suburban parents. In her clean cut parent’s minds, their spotless lives were hindered by Kate obtaining preferences beyond their comprehension.They had missed a spot in their immaculate lives when their only child was concerned, at least this was their sentiment. She could never match their traditional, conservative religious lives. 

Neither parent was budging to return a word to her at this dinner. The shame built within Kate, starting in her stomach, preventing her food to sit. This was the same shame she remembered feeling throughout her young life. Like on her 14th Birthday, when a summer dress rested on her bed, with her parents insisting she wore it for the family gathering. 

“It was only polite to show appreciation for them travelling so far”. “You need to look presentable in front of the grandparents” 

She shouted and pleaded, but neither would listen. To them, this was the daughter that they wanted. A sweet little private school doll in a floral rag. All day she felt like an imposter in her skin. Her body was not proud. When birthday wishes were passed, she’d scoff and reply back with sarcastic remarks. To many this was her being immature. But this constant edit of her character was just the first bump in the road. Any passing comment was one of concern or critical analysis. 

She dyed her hair not long after that birthday. She did it out of spite as well as passion. They complained for weeks, as did her school. But what did she care? Even when she ‘behaves’ how her folks want, there is always something to blast her for. 

However, In those times of adversary, Kate would always clutch to the belief that her Mom and Dad were loyal. No matter the circumstances, no matter their obvious distaste, Kate’s parents were always happy to host and provide. The table always had a space for her. It was this bittersweet sentiment that helped her ride out these monsoons of disapproval. Tonight though felt different… 

Kate rests her clammy palms in her lap under the table. Her father, Matthew firmly holds his elbows down on the shiny pine dinner table. He occasionally takes sips of his dark red wine. Perhaps he was hoping to ‘migrate to the Netherlands’ so he could muster up the will to speak. But he still can’t even find the ability to look at his only child. Kate lifts her hands and firmly presses to the table. Fury and distress fight to emote her face. Conflicted by her emotions, visceral pain oozes from her. 

“If you didn’t want me here, why invite me? You obviously wanted to say something. Then just say it!”. Matthew leans back in his chair with an urge to say something. He tries to find the right words that won’t soak him with regret upon review. 

Matthew goes to speak, but Kate abruptly Interrupts. “No! Actually, you know what? Don’t! Don’t speak! Tonight is my turn to give you my critiques”. She leans forward and speaks with a spiteful tone. “You’re both boring! You’re afraid of risk and care too much about how everyone perceives you. And because I don’t give a damn, you resent me for it! Even when I decided to go into science, you put it down. Thinking that I’d get nowhere for not being good enough first semester. Well, screw you guys! And I say that with as much love and hate I can have both at once. Screw you and your stupid, personal requirements and sucky standards that you think I should be held to”. She starts breathing quickly, as if in panic. 

Her mother, Deborah finally looks at her daughter, the tears congregate to her pupils before falling down to smudge her make up. Kate darts her eyes back and forth to each parent, trying hard not to absorb her mothers sobbing demeanour. Emotions are high. Not even a hatchet could hack through the tension. Matthew’s frown became more apparent by the minute. 

Kate leans back in her chair, almost as if she is defeated. “Why am I even here? We were suppose to be celebrating. But I guess you aren’t proud. Every success I have is overshadowed by what you view as failure…”. 

Matthew’s drink is empty and Deborah’s eyes are pouring. Her blubbering is suppressed by a hand grasping her face. 

“I know, I’m not what you wanted. But this is what you got. And you never take the full me, You only want the edited version. The ‘me’ you lie about to your friends to make yourselves look good or feel better. But here I am, this is the edition with the things you don’t like. All of them. And I’m done with this!”

Kate walks from the table after pushing back her barely finished, pristine meal. Looking down at her distressed parents. She swallows and takes a breath. 

“You don’t have to meet her... I just need you to know that this part of me exists. And we’re happy. You don’t need to understand, but if you aren’t gunna support us then leave us the hell alone”. 

As Kate turns to walk out the door, Deborah spots something on the back of Kate’s shoulder. Surrounded by rose vines and skull tattoos, rests a red heart tattoo labelled ‘Mum’. How has she never seen that before? An affectionate symbol that she always kept covered from her. She may have never approved of her body art before but this one was a mark of approval. And as Kate slammed the door behind her, like a bellow of thunder the realisation hits her.

Kate slips on her denim jacket at the front door, readying herself to walk out into the wet and potentially never set foot here again. She never should of come here, she should of left after telling them. But she won’t repeat her mistakes again. ‘Don’t trust everyone to handle who you are’, she thought to herself. As she reaches for the handle. The dining room door swings open. Out runs Deborah, drying her face. Kate stares at her for a moment, preparing for the worst to occur. 

Deborah marches to Kate with a stern face. Kate closes her eyes, expecting a hard slap. But suddenly she is greeted with a tight hug. She stands there perplexed at the change of such emotions. Through her breathing, Deborah utters with a gentle voice “You’re my Katie, which makes you perfect for me”. Kate joins the hug. Reaching her arms and squeezing with hard strength. Matthew walks out to view the pair embracing in the corridor. Deborah looks over to him. “Come and hug your daughter, she’s getting a masters!” she barks with authority. Matthew stands there for a moment staring at the pair. His frown disappears and a smile replaces it. He walks over and joins the hug with wet eyes and shaking hands. 

And right then, in that moment, It wasn’t Kate who was being accepted. But that through the thick of it all, they were accepting each other.