Free Condemn Me Not by Dianne Venetta, Jaxadora Design

her
expression into naked disbelief.  “He’s not a loser.  Why do you think we’re
going into business together?”
    Because
he sees an easy mark.  Because he thinks you’re going to use your parents’ college
savings account to fund his venture.  “How much of his money are you using to
start this business?”  Simone cocked a brow.  “Or can I assume you’re the
silent partner pulling the purse strings.”
    Mariah
stood by the marble mantle, charcoal veins and carved white edges appearing cold
beside her, the gilded-framed family portrait above seemingly out of place in
the chill of confrontation.  “Logan has money.”
    “How
much?” Simone asked, suddenly curious.  His family wasn’t wealthy.  From what
she could gather, sending him to college would be a stretch.  Simone’s gaze
narrowed.  Which is why he needed Mariah.
    “You
never liked Logan.”  Mariah spat the words, then spun away and stalked off to
the front corner of the room.  With her body pressed so near the second-story
window, Simone had the fleeting image of her daughter busting out in a
desperate jump to escape.
    “He
doesn’t have any, does he?” Simone quipped.
    “This
isn’t about the money,” Mariah said, staring out the window, her back turned in
silent condemnation.  “This is about him .”
    “That’s
what I thought.”  It was no longer a question in Simone’s mind.
    Mariah
turned her head to the side, but didn’t look at her.  “For your information,
Logan has some money saved up.  We’re doing this together, in every sense of the word.”
    “What
if you get pregnant?”
    “What?” 
Mariah whirled around.  Disgust wrenched her features.
    “It’s
a possibility.”  Simone punched a hand to her hip and repeated, “What if you
get pregnant?  Then what?”
    “I
can’t believe you.  Now you’re just making stuff up to argue about.”
    “It
happens, Mariah.  Can I assume you won’t get an abortion?”
    Mariah
took several steps toward Simone and said, “I wouldn’t abort my baby!”
    “So
then you’d keep it.  Do you know how much babies cost?”
    Mariah
stopped in her tracks and glared, furious at falling into her mother’s trap.
    “Food,
clothing, education...” Simone itemized, ticking up fingers with each
category.  “It all costs money.  Look around you,” she said, indicating the
elegant furnishings of their home.  From the polished wood-flooring to the
expensive silk draperies, the hand-crafted stone appointments and original
artwork adorning the walls, Simone knew exactly how much life cost.  She
enjoyed the finer things in life, as did her daughter.  Only Mariah didn’t
fully comprehend how they were acquired.  “This doesn’t come cheap.  Not only
will you and Logan be struggling with the bills at work, but you’ll be
struggling with them at home, too.  You’ll be reduced to shopping at thrift
stores, eating frozen dinners.  The stress of living paycheck to paycheck will
drive a wedge between you, and the next thing you know, you’ll be twenty-eight,
divorced, years behind your contemporaries in the job market, and on your own
with a child to raise.”
    Hatred
scored jagged lines through Mariah’s expression.  “You are so wrong.”
    Simone
inwardly recoiled at the animosity staring back at her.  She didn’t want to
inflict pain on her daughter.  She just needed her to see the realities at
play.  Mariah needed to get an accurate picture of the road ahead.  “It sneaks
up on you, Mariah.  It’s how the cycle of poverty works.  You don’t think those
millions of women out there planned on raising their kids alone with barely two
dimes to their name, do you?  Of course not.  It began with young love that
would beat the odds until real life collapsed their dreams, revealing them for
what they were—ill thought-out plans based on a rush to judgment and a desire
to feel mature and independent.”
    Mariah
became a stone, as gray and cold as the mantle