Red Herring ✔️

40. Salt in the Wound

It was the Cold War in the Wellington abode with two key players and four onlookers who'd rather not get involved or were too oblivious to the underlying tension. As much as she wished she were Switzerland - and as hard as she tried to stay neutral - Mazie, unfortunately, sat front in center.

The underdogs, Mazie and Felecia, sat on one side of the table, banded together by terrible childhoods and mutual distaste for their mothers. On the other side, the devious infiltrators delicately perched on the edge of their fine dining seats with their cutlery clasped in proper hands with their napkins folded just right in their laps and their legs crossed appropriately at the ankle just as they were taught in the finishing school they didn't attend. At the end of the table, Christian ate his food in silence, casting curious glances around the table without getting involved. As much as her grandmother and mother insisted he attend their little dinner party, they didn't do a whole lot of engaging with the outsider. Instead, mothers grilled their children, ignoring the screaming angry children who fought with one another every five seconds. And every single one of those five seconds, Felecia spent breathing slowly to calm herself down as she fought against a double edged sword. If she corrected the children or left the table to soothe them, her mother would yell at her. If she didn't stop the children from hollering at dinner time, her mother would yell at her.

Frequently, Mazie and Felecia, the black sheep of the Montgomery Family, shared stressed glances and shoved food in their mouth at an unmentionable rate so they wouldn't have to talk. Which was of little concern for the righteous women across the table who filled the silence by answering their own questions and regaling them with stories no one asked to hear.

"And that's how I got the job! It was really a miraculous event. I think the universe knew that I needed a break in life!" Her mother finished her story and took a dainty bite of seared tuna.

Every ounce of self-control was expelled to control herself from rolling her eyes. Mazie learned her mother now resided in a quaint town in Connecticut and worked for a marketing firm that paid her above the country's average wages for marketing analysts. She bought a cute white house with a picket fence and blue shutters. She recently installed a wood barrier around her brand new mailbox with her last name "Montgomery" painted on the side because she overheard that snowplows knock over mailboxes in her neighborhood and she was concerned she wouldn't get her mail.

"So how did your senior pictures go, Mazie?" Lillian asked, regarding her with open, expressive eyes.

Mazie chewed slowly and swallowed, forcing her mother to wait for an answer. "Oh, I'm surprised you remember with such a busy schedule you have!" Mazie exclaimed cattily and continued before her mother could respond. "I hated the entire experience. In fact, I think the pictures are going to turn out horrific."

Beside her, Felecia nearly choked on her tuna and had to gulp her water to get the food down. Mazie nudged her under the table to get her to play along.

"Mazie! That's awful!" Her mother exclaimed.

"Well what happened is I was feeling a little bloated and the outfit I picked out just wasn't fitting right. So I had to wear that bright ugly red dress and I just think it clashed with the entire aesthetic," Mazie explained, using her hands to tell a more interesting story. She glanced at the ceiling and considered what else to say to piss off her mother. "Callie, of course, is such a wonderful photographer but I just don't think the red dress is what I was going for."

Mulling over the food in her mouth, Lillian gently rested her wrists on the table - no elbows - and studied Mazie thoughtfully. "I bought you that red dress. I thought you liked it."