The Dragon’s E-Mail Order Menage

Now she realized that it wasn’t so. It wasn’t like that at all. It was amazing how it didn’t matter how many years you accumulated when you talked to a parent. No matter how old she got (and yes, she was aware of the fact that twenty-three wasn’t all that old in the grand scheme of things, especially for a dragon shifter), she always felt like a small child when dealing with her mom.

She knew, knew deep down inside of herself in the same place that cried out for the land anytime she wasn’t on it, that her mother would always be far superior to her when it came to the matter of adulting.

She was at a deficit from the moment she fell into her mother’s watchful gaze and so she reverted back to how she was when she was little, this sulking, kiddy behavior that made her feel like an idiot immediately afterwards. It was already very apparent to her that this was going to be another one of those conversations; far from making her feel more like an adult, it would only result in her feeling even more frustrated with her circumstances than she already was.

“I’m not asking you to be sorry,” her mother sighed, sitting heavily in the closest kitchen chair. It was a kind of sitting that made it clear that she was tired from standing on her feet all day. It was a kind of sitting that made Maggie feel terribly, almost unbearably guilty for her not having done the things she knew she was supposed to.

It made her feel like such a selfish girl, like such a child. She knew it wasn’t true, but knowing something and really feeling it weren’t always the same thing. In this case they definitely weren’t the same thing.

“I know you aren’t, but I am all the same.”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry,” her mother said again as if she hadn’t heard her at all, “I’m just asking you to be there to do the things I ask. That’s all. I’m not asking anything about your feelings.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true, but how about we don’t say things that we don’t want to explain, what do you say? If you don’t, then I won’t either.”

Her mother smiled at her then and Maggie couldn’t help but smile, too. She loved her mother dearly, after all, and even in her twenties she still loved being on the end of those conspiratorial looks and tones. Ever since she was little, her mother  had a way of making her feel special when she talked to her that way, like the both of them had their little secrets and they would both be allowed to keep them no matter what anyone else said.

And in this particular instance, agreeing with her mom seemed like it would most definitely be in Maggie’s best interest. She wasn’t exactly thrilled by the thought of unloading every selfish, bitter thought rolling around her head like loose marbles. Those thoughts didn’t paint her in the best light and they were in no way representative of the kind of woman she wanted to be.

They weren’t her, not really, they were only born out of her frustration with a life that felt very small and very out of her control. Still, the tired smile looking up at her from her mother’s pretty face made it seem like it wasn’t all as bad as she made it out to be inside of her head. Her mom had a way of affecting people that way.

“All right, let’s not talk about it.”

“You going to help me set the table for supper? Everyone’s going to be here, all the kiddos. All of your brothers. And Cali, of course.”

Of course. Cali would probably never leave the home and be perfectly, one hundred percent content with her life all of the while. Different. The two of them were so completely different that they could have been entirely different species and yet they were sisters. Maggie had never understood how a thing like that could happen, and yet it had happened all the same.

“Stop that,” her mother said without looking up, just knowing in that way that only a mother could. “It isn’t nice. I realize that Cali and you have your differences, all of us realize that, but she’s still your sister and I want the two of you to be kind to each other. You were always close as children and I want you to be now, too. It’s important for family to stick together, especially with our kind.”

Maggie nodded and, for a while, the two of them set the table in silence. It wasn’t what she wanted to be doing, nor was it where she wanted to be, but for the moment it was actually kind of nice. She could almost convince herself that it was what she had chosen; not that the illusion lasted for all that long. She finished setting the plates out, or at least she thought she finished, when her mother gave her another of her sharp looks.

“And what about Damon? You just expect him to sit there and eat with his hands like some kind of a street urchin? You thinking he should eat like he’s back in the dark ages and the rest of us are royalty just lording our status above him?”

For a moment, Maggie just gaped at her with her mouth hanging open stupidly. It was a gesture she knew her mother loathed, one she had been trying to break her of since she was practically a baby. Any time she did it, her mom would roll her eyes, sometimes even going so far as to reach out and physically snap her mouth closed, saying that she looked just like a bullfrog trying to catch flies.

It was a look that hadn’t become any more endearing with age and the look on Rose Wallace’s face darkened, the tentative peace the two of them had established dangerously close to evaporating as quickly as it had come.

“Damon? Why would I set a place for Damon?”

“Did you not hear what I said about not wanting him to have to eat with his hands or off of the floor like a dog?”