Forbidden French

It’s late, and we should both be in bed. Christmas Eve is about to become Christmas Day, and yet my grandmother and I are in the sitting room, cast in the twinkling glow from the Christmas tree proudly posed in the corner. When we got home from the Four Seasons, I asked if we could talk, privately. She had the forethought to tell Jacobs to bring us each a spiked hot chocolate, complete with a tiny candy cane dangling over the side of each mug.

Though it’s cheery and delicious, I haven’t had much more than a few half-hearted sips of mine.

I tentatively peer over at my grandmother and find she hasn’t touched much of hers either. She sits facing the tree wearing a wistful expression as she studies the delicate white lights and heirloom ornaments we hung together earlier in December. That easy winter day seems a thousand miles away now.

She’s never one to sit in her emotions, but tonight, she seems fragile and sad. Her austere mask isn’t in its usual place.

I feel bad for what I’m doing. I’d much rather continue to sweep our problems under the rug, but leaving well enough alone just doesn’t seem possible any longer. The rug is overflowing at this point. Besides, I’ve already come this far, and it seems silly to back down now.

I set my mug carefully on the side table and turn toward her. The ominous sound of china hitting wood draws her attention as I begin to speak. “This will not be a pleasant conversation, I’m afraid.”

Slowly, her lips curl into a melancholy smile. She tilts forward and sets her mug down as well. Then she looks at me with surprising gentleness. “Oh, let’s have it out and be done with it. The night was dramatic enough already. If I didn’t go into cardiac arrest at that dinner table while French curses were being flung across the room, I’m sure I can handle this. I’m not some wilting flower. Speak now. What is it?”

Her demanding tone draws the truth out of me.

“I’m not happy with the way things are,” I blurt. Then, more gently, I continue, “It’s…” I shake my head and start again. “I’ve tried so hard to fall in line, to simply exist in whatever manner you’d like me to, but I’ve come to realize that I can’t. Not anymore.

“For so long—since I was a child, in fact—I’ve been so terrified of displeasing you. I worried if I spoke up or went against your wishes, you’d assume I’m filled with too much of my mother’s flaws and not enough of my father’s virtues.”

“Lainey, I—”

“Please. Let me finish,” I rush out desperately. I hold a hand up, palm open. “I have felt your hatred for my mother as if it were hatred for me, and it’s a hard thing for a child to feel so wrong, merely for existing.” I let both hands fall onto my lap, trying to keep them from shaking with adrenaline. “The simple fix has always been to ensure my own happiness takes a back seat to yours, but it’s made life too hollow. Tried as I have to shirk her looming shadow, I’ve made peace with the fact that I will always be my mother’s daughter.”

For most of my speech, my eyes were anywhere but on her. My bottom lip quivers as I gather the courage to meet her gaze.

She looks on sadly, shaking her head. “It breaks my heart to hear you say that. I feel I’ve truly failed you if you believe I don’t see you for exactly who you are—a wonderful, kind young woman with a heart of gold.”

She sighs.

“Lainey, if I may, I have no doubt you’ve gathered up a great deal of courage to be able to stand before me and reveal the secrets of your psyche, but I’m much more perceptive than you give me credit for. I’ve seen the unhappiness in you lately, that wild spirit struggling to be free.”

I open and close my mouth, my shock momentarily stealing my tongue.

“Now tell me, do you have some plan you’ve concocted? Are you going to backpack solo across Europe? Hike the Appalachian Trail? Oh dear, are you set on getting a nose ring?”

My brows furrow. “I…hadn’t thought about it.”

“The nose ring?”

“Any of it.”

She looks relieved. “I see.”

“To be honest, I’m uncomfortable even talking about this. I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful or silly…or that perhaps I don’t realize all the ways my life could have been harder.” I pause to mull it over. “The thing is, I’m not looking for some great big change. I genuinely enjoy my life here in Boston with you, only…I think I’d like to stretch my legs. I want more independence. I want to be in charge of my schedule and social life. I want to take on more hours at Morgan’s. Oh! And I want my paychecks to be deposited in a bank account that I manage.” My voice takes on a determined edge as the ball gets rolling. “And I don’t like going to your clubs for those lectures. I hate those snooty old places, but I absolutely must continue to be by your side when you go to the opera and ballet. And no more of you and Margaret picking my outfits for me like I’m a doll!”

I’m almost winded by the end of it, and far from looking disappointed or annoyed, my grandmother almost seems…proud.

“And what about your living arrangements?”

I deflate slightly as I look around the familiar sitting room, the warm and inviting furniture, the well-loved books layered on the shelves. It’s home, especially now with all the familiar Christmas decor in place.

“I was thinking it would be okay if I stayed here…”

She nods solemnly. “I see no issue with anything you’ve asked for, though Margaret will be sad to lose access to your closet.”

I smile at her quip and then let my gaze fall on the Christmas tree once more.

“Is it small of me not to demand more? Am I weak for not wanting to leave this life altogether? Find a little apartment and pave my own way? Not many twenty-five-year-olds still live with their grandmother…”

“So what of other twenty-five-year-olds? Who gets to say what’s best for a person? I think whatever makes you happy should be enough.”

I nod. “True. It’s just… I know we don’t talk about it much, but after losing my parents so young…” I shake away the sadness lurking in the periphery of my mind and heave a deep breath. “I guess I’m just not quite ready to leave you if that’s okay.”

She stands then and walks to me, bending so she can hug me close. She squeezes me against her chest as she leans down and presses a kiss to my hair. I’m enveloped in her scent and softness. Every inch of her is a comfort.

“You’re the most precious part of my life, Lainey, but you should know I’ve never experienced a challenge on earth quite so hard as parenting, and even in my old age, I don’t think I’ve quite mastered it.” She peels back to cup my face with her hand. “You understand I would never have forced you down the aisle if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

I lean away slightly so I can wipe away the residual tears as she continues, “If you’ll let me explain myself, I do admit to playing matchmaker…a bit. Royce was a good man and I won’t apologize too strongly for trying to safeguard your future happiness, but I can see now how wrong I was about the two of you. It’s so clear that you have always been meant for Emmett.”

My jaw drops. “You can’t be serious. Did you not listen to a single thing I just told you? It’s done, these old-fashioned betrothals—all of it.”

She smiles and pats my shoulder. “We’ll see about that.”

“You’ll never stop!” I tease, and she winks and shrugs, playing coy.

“Oh, I don’t think it’s me you need to worry about now…”