and the father stood; Bastian made the introductions. “Mom, Dad, Dom, this is my girlfriend, Larkspur. Lark, my mom and dad, Jennifer and Sinclair Ross, and my brother, Dom.”
“ Hello, Larkspur, we are so glad you could join us this evening. Please sit,” Jennifer said as she gestured to my chair.
Bastian helped me to my seat before taking the seat next to me.
“ Thank you, I’m really happy to be here,” I said just as the waiter handed us our menus. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. I had never felt so uncomfortable. The conversation remained forced and very impersonal and then quite suddenly the focus turned to me.
“ Larkspur, tell us about your family,” his dad asked.
“ My mom died when I was eight, so I live with my uncle and aunt. He's an attorney and my aunt stays home with the kids.” I saw the disgust in Sinclair's expression and assumed that was due to my aunt staying home with the kids instead of having a nanny doing so. I couldn't help but think that was strike one.
“ Are they members here?” He asked.
“ No.” Strike two.
“ What about your dad?” He pressed.
“ I never knew him.”
Strike three.
“ Do you have any idea what you want to do next year?” I had already struck out with the man, who clearly found me lacking, so I held his stare and replied, “I'm going to Columbia to study art.”
“ An artist. What's your medium?” Jennifer asked.
“ Charcoal and oils mostly.”
“ You see, Sebastian, even your girlfriend knows what she wants to do next year. You need to stop dragging your feet. It's time for you to come into the office and learn the ropes,” Sinclair chided.
I just stared, because it was so inappropriate to be having this discussion not only in public, but in front of me. For all the breeding they claimed to have, Sinclair and Jennifer Ross had no class.
I looked over at Bastian and expected to see him react in some way to his father's bad manners, but instead he smiled at his brother, undisturbed. Was he like me, so accustomed to his mistreatment, that it didn't come as a surprise to him?
“ You can't spend your life living as carelessly as you do.” His father was on a roll. “I can't tell you how embarrassing it is for me to have to explain to my friends why my son has a part-time job to begin with…but being a mechanic of all things. You may be comfortable interacting with the middle class, but we are not middle class. Aim higher, Sebastian, you're a Ross.”
Why I had the feeling his last comment of aiming higher was about me, I couldn't say. The two of them were a tag team with the goal of breaking Bastian down. I now understood why he had the tattoos—a daily visual reminder to never give up; to fight for what he wanted.
His mom said, “I was disappointed that Kira couldn't make it this evening. She is such a lovely girl and so accomplished. Did you know she and Sebastian have been friends since they were in kindergarten? Her parents are in agreement with us, have been since the children were very little, that they should marry. I understand Sebastian is young and needs to sow his oats, but in the end like calls to like. You understand my meaning, don't you, dear?”
Did she just say that? Insufferable bitch. My attention shifted to Bastian, since I felt the change in him in response to his mother's baiting: every muscle tensed and the smile faded from his face.
“ Kira's a self-absorbed snob and nothing like me, but, regardless, my girlfriend is sitting at the table and you will not disrespect her again.”
I covered his fisted hand with my own. It was official. I hated his parents as much as they disapproved of me. I didn't want Bastian's evening ruined, so I tried to offer him comfort, but his mother wasn't done.
“ Larkspur seems like a lovely young woman, but she isn't someone a man like you marries. She just doesn't mingle in your social circles. Surely, Larkspur agrees with
“ Hello, Larkspur, we are so glad you could join us this evening. Please sit,” Jennifer said as she gestured to my chair.
Bastian helped me to my seat before taking the seat next to me.
“ Thank you, I’m really happy to be here,” I said just as the waiter handed us our menus. The tension in the air was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. I had never felt so uncomfortable. The conversation remained forced and very impersonal and then quite suddenly the focus turned to me.
“ Larkspur, tell us about your family,” his dad asked.
“ My mom died when I was eight, so I live with my uncle and aunt. He's an attorney and my aunt stays home with the kids.” I saw the disgust in Sinclair's expression and assumed that was due to my aunt staying home with the kids instead of having a nanny doing so. I couldn't help but think that was strike one.
“ Are they members here?” He asked.
“ No.” Strike two.
“ What about your dad?” He pressed.
“ I never knew him.”
Strike three.
“ Do you have any idea what you want to do next year?” I had already struck out with the man, who clearly found me lacking, so I held his stare and replied, “I'm going to Columbia to study art.”
“ An artist. What's your medium?” Jennifer asked.
“ Charcoal and oils mostly.”
“ You see, Sebastian, even your girlfriend knows what she wants to do next year. You need to stop dragging your feet. It's time for you to come into the office and learn the ropes,” Sinclair chided.
I just stared, because it was so inappropriate to be having this discussion not only in public, but in front of me. For all the breeding they claimed to have, Sinclair and Jennifer Ross had no class.
I looked over at Bastian and expected to see him react in some way to his father's bad manners, but instead he smiled at his brother, undisturbed. Was he like me, so accustomed to his mistreatment, that it didn't come as a surprise to him?
“ You can't spend your life living as carelessly as you do.” His father was on a roll. “I can't tell you how embarrassing it is for me to have to explain to my friends why my son has a part-time job to begin with…but being a mechanic of all things. You may be comfortable interacting with the middle class, but we are not middle class. Aim higher, Sebastian, you're a Ross.”
Why I had the feeling his last comment of aiming higher was about me, I couldn't say. The two of them were a tag team with the goal of breaking Bastian down. I now understood why he had the tattoos—a daily visual reminder to never give up; to fight for what he wanted.
His mom said, “I was disappointed that Kira couldn't make it this evening. She is such a lovely girl and so accomplished. Did you know she and Sebastian have been friends since they were in kindergarten? Her parents are in agreement with us, have been since the children were very little, that they should marry. I understand Sebastian is young and needs to sow his oats, but in the end like calls to like. You understand my meaning, don't you, dear?”
Did she just say that? Insufferable bitch. My attention shifted to Bastian, since I felt the change in him in response to his mother's baiting: every muscle tensed and the smile faded from his face.
“ Kira's a self-absorbed snob and nothing like me, but, regardless, my girlfriend is sitting at the table and you will not disrespect her again.”
I covered his fisted hand with my own. It was official. I hated his parents as much as they disapproved of me. I didn't want Bastian's evening ruined, so I tried to offer him comfort, but his mother wasn't done.
“ Larkspur seems like a lovely young woman, but she isn't someone a man like you marries. She just doesn't mingle in your social circles. Surely, Larkspur agrees with
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