Marriage On Hold by Mark Twain 6
Chapter 6 The Weight of Family
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Chapter 6 The Weight of Family
“Mr. Stafford said, as long as you agree to marry his son, he can immediately take care of our money problems. Moreover, he will arrange an easy deputy manager role for Barnaby in his company, making 50 grand a year.
I looked at him in disbelief.
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For twenty years, I had called this man “Dad,” yet now, he had turned his back on me.
For 33,000 dollars, and to secure his good-for-nothing son’s future, he boxed me up like an object and traded me away.
“Dad… I’m your daughter…” I burst into tears, staring at him in despair.
“Precisely because you’re my daughter, you must shoulder the responsibility for this family!” he snarled, his voice unyielding, freezing me to the core.
“Barnaby is the golden child of this family. He mustn’t be harmed or have his name dragged through the mud! Eventually, you’ll get married, so does it matter to whom? Marry Pierce’s son, and we kill two birds with one stone: solve our crisis and secure your brother’s future. That is how you make the most of your worth and contribute to your family!”
Mom turned her face away, too pained to look at me. Then she covered her mouth and wept in
silence.
Barnaby hung his head, acquiescing in Dad’s decision.
A ghost of a smile of victory touched Eileen’s lips.
I felt myself falling into a bottomless pit, surrounded by grotesque and ravenous monsters.
All my struggles, my efforts, my sleepless nights, and every certificate I fought for-none of it mattered as much as “my marriage.”
At that moment, I felt my world falling apart.
I could no longer recognize the three I had called “family,” each one more terrifying than the other.
Dad wasted no time and set up the meeting the next day.
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Chapter 6 The Weight of Family
In a fancy restaurant, Pierce’s son, a man with a beer belly, sized me up and down with a lascivious and judgmental stare, as if I were nothing more than a piece of meat.
He even pried open my mouth to inspect my teeth.
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In the end, he gave a nod of satisfaction and said to Dad, “Mr. Ravenscroft, I’m very pleased with your daughter. She’s pure, obedient, and fit to be a mother.”
When they were hashing out details for the wedding, Dad’s phone rang.
It was from the police department.
After he hung up, the smug, sycophantic smile vanished from his face, replaced by a deathly pallor.
He looked at us, his voice dry and raspy. “It’s Barnaby… He got into trouble again.”
It turned out that the man Barnaby had beaten yesterday had powerful connections and refused any private settlement.
He gathered his gang and ambushed Barnaby on his way to “negotiate.”
They broke Barnaby’s leg.
We rushed to the ER. The hospital corridor reeked of disinfectant and blood.
Barnaby lay on the bed, his right leg wrapped in a cast with blood soaking through, his face as white as a sheet, his body convulsing in waves of pain.
Eileen crouched by the bed, crying her heart out. Tears ruined her makeup.
The doctor pulled Dad aside, his expression grave. “His right tibia is broken into pieces. It’s a complex case, and the surgery will be challenging. Even if it goes well, I’m afraid… he may be permanently disabled.”
Mom fainted and slumped to the ground with a thud.
Dad stayed silent, his body tense.
I stood on the sideline, as if I were a mere spectator.
No one noticed me. No one paid me any attention. I was almost invisible.
Slowly, my dad turned his head, his gaze slicing through the clamorous crowd, impaling me like a nail.
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Chapter 6 The Weight of Family
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He marched toward me in big strides. There was no hint of anger or sadness on his face, only a bone-chilling calm.
He stopped in front of me.
He scrutinized me like a number in his ledger, the ultimate weight to balance his scale and erase the deficits.
“Syl,” he uttered, his voice making my hair stand on end. “Barnaby needs a leg.”
He paused. His every word cut like a blade, driving deeper into my heart.
“How do you think the scales should be balanced?”
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