Gemotions

A knot tightened in her stomach as she watched her mother, resplendent in a shimmering purple dress, accept accolades from her colleagues. Years of quiet competence, of meticulous work, were being celebrated. And she, the ‘artistic’ one, the ‘creative’ one, was tasked with the speech. Her brother, the lawyer, was conveniently “unavailable.”

She fiddled with the strap of her dress, the silk feeling scratchy against her skin. The room was bright, filled with the aroma of catered food and forced camaraderie. Every smile felt a little too wide, every compliment a little too…patronizing.

She’d rehearsed the speech a dozen times, but now, standing before the gathered crowd, the words evaporated. She spoke of her mother's dedication, her unwavering support. But her tone was flat, her eyes darted around the room, unable to meet her mother’s expectant gaze. After her speech, she practically ran to the bar, and started drinking vodka tonics as fast as possible.