roots right out of her head. But that same part of her knew it would only cause trouble for her if she did. It was always the same when the social classes fought, she had found. The old Golden Rule came to mind. They who have the gold make the rules. Her lips narrowed to a sharp line, and she looked at Dwayne.
"It's not your fault. But, if you would excuse me, I don't think I can enjoy the rest of my vacation as long as your parents are here. If you could arrange a boat or a seaplane for me back to Miami, I would appreciate it."
Without another word, Erica turned and left the office, desperate to get out before the tears fell from her eyes. She had encountered prejudice before, it was endemic to the high fashion world, where the rules were written by skinny European men who held everyone who wasn't a waif in slight disdain. While models were allowed to come from humble beginnings, you were supposed to ignore that fact as soon as you had money, and designers were to have never come from poverty at all. But Erica was proud to have come from where she did, and had fought her way up the ranks as a designer even while staying honest about who she was. She thought she’d developed a callus over her feelings when it came to such attacks, but it seemed that the past few days with Dwayne had opened a hole in her armor, one his mother had exposed with ease.
Finding her way back to the bungalow, she packed her things quickly, waiting on the sofa when Dwayne came back in a few minutes after she was done.
"I'm sorry for that," he said quietly, sitting down beside her and looking at the carpet. He reached to take her hand, but she pulled away. "You can see why I don't hold my parents in high regard."
"I know you can't control your parents, or their thoughts," she replied, for the first time wishing he wasn't there. When he was around, she couldn't control her emotions it seemed, and this was one time when she needed to restore her sense of iron-willed discipline. "But I was serious. I can’t here as long as they are."
"I understand," Dwayne said sadly, folding his hands between his knees. "I asked for a charter seaplane to take you back to Miami. It should be here within an hour. Would you like me to stay with you to wait?"
"No thank you. I'm sure you have things you need to do." A bitter laugh came from her lips. "Apparently I'm distracting you from your duties."
Dwayne turned to look at her, his mouth forming silent words for a moment, before he turned his gaze back towards the floor.
"Okay. At least promise me you'll call when you get to Miami?"
Erica nodded tersely. Dwayne got up, and made his way towards the door. Just before he went outside, he turned and looked back at her. "I know you're angry right now. I am too. I just want to say.... I just want to say I'm not like my parents."
He closed the door behind him, and in the silence, Erica was able to find the ability to release her tears.
----
A fter getting back to Miami , Erica threw herself into her work. She knew she was being snippy with almost everyone, to the point that even Tina was pulling back, afraid to cross the boss in any way. Erica knew she wasn't acting rationally, but seemed unable to do much more than keep a brittle veneer of control over her emotions on a daily basis. She felt like her control was being held together with cheap tape, and could fly apart at any second, shattering into a million pieces.
Her worries compounded when she missed her first period, still with no word from Dwayne. Suddenly, every tale of woe she had seen growing up, of the bright young women who were chained to a life of poverty through absentee fathers and new mouths to feed flooded her thoughts. She'd had too many classmates, good girls with good minds, get derailed by the single motherhood trap.
It's just one period , Erica kept telling herself. It could just be stress. God knows you've been under enough of stress this past month.
Her worries compounded again when she