Power and Lies

Thirty

Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same.
-Francesca Reigler

The morning brought about awkward conversations over the expansive dining room table that Freya's mother had ordered prepared. Piles of food hid her shameful expressions from her daughter and new son-in-law, which Freya preferred. Having to see less of her mother was the better option than embracing her as she was. It was clear that Freya's father had talked to his wife, but the amount of information given was sparse, as her demeanor remained confident in its callousness. However, she had not been as verbally upfront in the new dawn as she had been the day before. Just as well, Freya thought, as her head ached and she was not sure she could deal with a repeat of the last twenty-four hours without snapping. The restraint she had polished and worked on was wearing thinner every day of this pregnancy as her hormones fluctuated and exhaustion took her in its iron grasps.

Tommy picked away at pieces of pork that had been cooked to perfection, uncaring if his new family cared much about his table etiquette. He was only here for his wife, and she seemed far away in her thoughts, she couldn't care less. Occasionally, Freya's father would clear his throat and mutter out a weak attempt at an ice breaker, which would fade into the background of the sounds of chewing and dishes scraping.

It was Freya who finally broke the monotony of it all as she nestled into the shoulder of her husband and whispered to him her desire to leave. She had not accomplished what she wanted, but the very thought of another night under this roof felt like a punishment for a crime she never committed. Although, it seemed more and more like the love she had for her parents had been criminal all along.

"Please don't go," her father protested as her mother rolled her eyes. "It has been so long. And I was hoping to talk to Tommy about some, er, business ideas I have."

"I assure you dear that Thomas has no interest in your business if he is as wonderful as you say," her mother bit back at her husband. Freya had never taken notice of the hostility in her parents as she grew up, but looking back she could see it festering there like an infection, only growing worse with time now that they no longer had her future to focus on.

"I regret to agree with your wife, but I assure you my family and I are not interested in taking on new endeavors currently." Tommy's voice was low and careful, side stepping any insult to her family.

Suddenly a flutter in her belly distracted Freya from the tense table and her hand came up to rest upon her abdomen. She looked to Tommy with wide eyes. "Tommy," she urged and he turned to her with alarm. She grabbed at his hand and shoved it onto her stomach as the flutter occured again. "Do you feel it?" He broke out in a smile and nodded, his eyes shining bright with emotion.

"This," he whispered to her, "is the only thing that matters."

"Baby kick?" Her mother asked from across the table, her voice lacking the hardened edge she normally had.

"Yes. It is the first time." Freya answered her with trepidation, afraid of her mother tearing the moment apart.

"I remember that feeling. It was as if a new candle had been lit." Her mother seemed far away for a moment, lost in her memories, before pulling her shoulders back and looking to her husband.

"I apologize. It seems as though I have forgotten there is somewhere I must be. I will say my goodbye's now to you all." Freya furled her brows in confusion, unable to figure out her mother's departure as she whirled out of the doorway, her chin as high and eyes as cold as the moment they arrived.

"Is she okay?" Tommy asked for her and she looked to him gratefully.

"Your mother lost a child after you. I imagine it is painful thinking on the memories." Her father did not seem to care as he shoved a scone into his mouth. Freya pushed her chair from the table, excusing herself for a moment before beginning her search for her mother.

Her mother was sitting near a window in the library, her fingers pressed to the glass as she stared out over the garden. Rain beat down distorting her view of the grass and trees, but she did not seem to notice. Freya recognized the far away look on her mother. Tommy wore it when he could not break free from cruel memories.

"Mother?" She laid a hand on her mother's shoulder. Her mother did not turn to her, instead she took a deep breath in and closed her eyes. Freya had never seen her mother look so vulnerable. There was a softness to her features that she had never noticed before. She could see now the similarities between the two.

"I was not a kind mother to you," she spoke suddenly.

"No, you were not." Freya would not lie to her. She had emotionally abandoned her as a person a long time ago, only seeing her as an obstacle to marry off and conquer. "You did the best with what you could though."

"No I did not. My mother told me I was being cruel, focusing on the wrong things. You were a failure to me for so many years. When you were ten years old I thought I would have a second chance. A new start. A new baby to raise the right way, to be the right kind of person. A son, perhaps to carry on this name. It's kicks were so strong within me, bringing a new light to my dark, giving me sun in my rain. And then, as quickly as hope came, it went. And I was stuck with you once again. My greatest disappointment. Do not tell me that I did the best I could. The best I could have done was to have my second chance."

"You are cruel," Freya proclaimed, her heart breaking.

"Of course you would say that. You are not a mother yet. You will see, when your baby does something wrong- something stupid, marries men who leave her because she cannot satisfy them, or get's pregnant like a common whore with a street urchins child-" Freya lashed out, her hand connecting with her mother's face. The sound of the slap reverberated through the room, and she stared down at the woman who had birthed her. She waited a moment for the guilt to come on, but it did not. Instead her mother raised her hand to her reddening cheeks and stared with an open mouth and wide eyes.

Freya kneeled down so she was at eye level with her mother, the last of her emotional resolve fading.

"You may say what you want of me, mother, but you will never call my baby a mistake. And you will never call my husband a street urchin. My husband is Thomas Shelby. My family is the Peaky fucking Blinders, and you would do best to remember that. If my father will not tell you the truth, then I see I must. I will continue to visit my family and my father, but if I hear you one time speak crassly of my family or my child then I will not hesitate to cut your tongue from your mouth and serve it to you on silver. Your blood would not be the first on my hands mother, but it will easily be my favorite."

"You dare speak to me that way-" Her mother's tone was incredulous and Freya found herself laughing the same depraved laugh of her madness before. Her hands reached into her pockets before she even had the chance to think and yanked free a small knife she carried for protection.

"I am not the same girl you knew. I will not behave as such. Watch your words mother. I will return when the baby is born, and you will treat my child with all the love and grace you should've given me."

"And if I do not?" Her mother was persistent, she could give her that much, but Freya no longer cared.

"I imagine it will be just as easy to visit your grave as it will be your home." she reached out with the knife, cutting at her mother's dress. Her mother looked at her with fear, and Freya smiled. Finally, she understood. Finally she could see that Freya was no longer a broken person.

Rising to her feet she left the library and her morbid mother to her vile thoughts and returned to her husband's side.

"Everything okay?" Tommy asked her, taking note of her change. She nodded, pushing her lips to his cheek.

"I imagine it will be now. Let's go home."