My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) by Rene Gutteridge Read Free Book Online Page A

Kate had settled into the idea that she was an adult, and no matter how many ways she chose to rebel, her family wasn’t going to ditch her. So though she still wasn’t the model politician’s daughter, her rebellion was much more subdued, and she attended most family gatherings.
    We were all thankful that her hair was fully grown back—even if we weren’t fond of the current color. She had shaved it off completely four years ago to protest hair products being tested on animals, which I found ironic since she never fed or watered any of our pets growing up.
    We all heard the front door open as Lola brought in the final dish. I could see relief in my mother’s features. As uptight as ever, she always seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop.
    â€œHurry up, Kate, dinner is served,” Dad called.
    Kate breezed into the dining room and flung herself into the seat next to Mother. Her hair, highlighted in four different colors that would never be seen together on wallpaper, looked windblown, but was actually the result of her latest protest against blow-dryers. She didn’t wear a stitch of makeup anymore either, due to an embarrassing allergy outbreak during her goth years. But she didn’t need it. She was really a natural beauty.
    She was now into bohemian. And as naturally beautiful as she was, she could never quite pull it off as well as the Olsen sisters. Mother pretended not to notice Kate’s appearance. Dad shot me that look, the same one he’d given me many times through the years. It was a smile, a wink, and a reassuring nod, telling me he was grateful for my khakis.
    Several minutes passed as we scooted platters around to one another and pretended to be interested in cutting our chicken or seasoning our vegetables. I stole glances at Kate, who seemed exceptionally happy. There was a sparkle in her eyes, and she was smiling at the saltshaker. My parents didn’t seem to notice, though.
    Suddenly my sister’s announcement broke the silence: “I’ve found the man of my dreams.”
    Dad stopped chewing. Mother tried to smile through the perpetual frown that left deep creases between her eyes. Kate glanced at me, realized I was somehow smiling, and smiled back.
    Understandably, my parents were nervous. The last love of Kate’s life was a biker named Joey, who came complete with the chains, the leather, and a motorcycle that cost more than my car. We all thought it was a phase, but the relationship lasted more than two years. We thought there was even a possibility of marriage.
    But then Joey was in a motorcycle accident. He survived but lost his left arm. Shortly thereafter, Kate broke up with him, citing her need for a man with two arms.
    Watching my parents in this situation was amusing, because although they were desperate to get rid of Joey, there was a certain amount of embarrassment attached to the fact that Joey was being dumped because Kate couldn’t live with a one-armed man.
    I watched Mother’s practiced expression feign interest and delight. She’d mastered this over the years as a politician’s wife. “Oh? How wonderful. Tell us more.”
    â€œHis name is Dillan,” Kate gushed, “and he’s an attorney.”
    All of our eyebrows popped up in unison, and Mother’s smile looked real. “A lawyer; how wonderful,” she said.
    â€œHe’s with Swadderly-Wade.” Kate looked at Dad.
    â€œThat’s impressive,” Dad said with a nod.
    â€œHe’s not only really successful, but he’s very nice too,” Kate said. “His family is from South Carolina, and he’s got the best Southern accent. He’s tall, dark-headed. So handsome.”
    I knew that would really get my parents. We were Southern, even though we’d made our final home in the anti-South. All of us still had an accent, and Mother and Dad still owned a vacation home in Charlotte, just to prove they still