Because if law school taught me anything, it’s that evidence matters.
But I should have known. Some juries come in with their minds already made up.
I pulled into the driveway at six-thirty. Dinner time in the Morrison household. Nothing had changed. Same beige siding, same garden gnome Mom insisted was whimsical, same sense of dread I always felt coming home.
“Laura.”
Mom opened the door, her smile tight.
“You’ve gained weight.”
And there it was. Maternal affection at its finest.
“Nice to see you, too, Mom.”
The dining room smelled like pot roast and disappointment. Dad sat at the head of the table, already halfway through his beer. He barely looked up when I entered.
“Thought you’d be too fancy for family dinner now that you’re a big-shot lawyer.”
I bit back my usual sarcastic response.
Stay calm, Laura. You’re an adult. A pregnant adult with a law degree and a fiancé who actually loves you.
“Actually, I have some news.”
“Sit down,” Mom interrupted, bustling in with plates. “Food’s getting cold.”
So I sat.
I watched them eat and complain about the neighbors, the weather, the government, everything except asking about my life. Twenty minutes in, I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor.
“I need to tell you something.”
That’s when Dad noticed.
His eyes zeroed in on my midsection, on the bump that my dress could no longer hide. His face went through a fascinating array of colors. White. Red. Purple. I’d seen less dramatic transformations in chemistry class.
“You’re pregnant.”
Not a question. An accusation.
“Yes, I—”
“You’re a disgrace.”
He slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes jump.
“Not welcome here. Not part of this family anymore.”
Mom’s contribution was equally heartwarming.
“You chose failure, so sleep on the streets.”
No questions. No concern. No Who’s the father? or What are your plans? or How far along are you? Just immediate exile. The cruelty of it was breathtaking.
“That’s it?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. “Your pregnant daughter comes home with a law degree from Yale, and you throw her out? No questions asked?”
“What’s there to ask?” Dad’s voice dripped with disgust. “Obviously, you’ve ruined your life. Pregnant and unwed. Probably don’t even know who the father is. What will people say?”
Ah, there it was. The real concern.
Not my well-being. Not their grandchild. The gossip at church.
“I’m engaged,” I managed to say. “The wedding is in August. I have a job lined up.”
“Lies to make yourself feel better,” Mom cut in. “No decent man would have you now. Get out before someone sees you here.”
I stared at them. These people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. Six years of perfect grades. Law review. Job offers from top firms. None of it mattered because I was pregnant.
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my suitcase. “I’ll go. But remember this moment. Remember that you chose your reputation over your daughter.”
“Don’t come crying back when he leaves you,” Mom called after me.
“We won’t be here.”
I paused at the door, looking back one last time.
“Actually, he’s picking me up from the airport tomorrow, but thanks for the concern.”
The door slammed with a satisfying bang.
I made it to my car before the rage hit.
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