The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

She saw the origin of her mother’s cheerless demeanor and poverty of imagination. It was then, at that tender age, that the dream of something different and better was born in Amber.

Her first stop was always the main reading room of the New York Public Library.

And then Amber had shown her and finally left it all—though maybe not the way she’d planned.

It irked her, this ease with wealth and privilege that Daphne exuded, as though it were her birthright.

Bunny had long, straight blond hair and large green eyes made up to show their maximum gorgeousness. She was perfect in every way, and she knew it. Amber had seen her at the gym in her tiny shorts and sports bra, working out like mad, but Bunny looked at her blankly, as if she’d never laid eyes on her before. Amber wanted to remind her, Oh, yes. I know you. You’re the one who brags about screwing around on your husband to your girl posse.

Meredith, who didn’t at all fit in with the rest of them.

She wasn’t going to let some society snob screw with her. She’d made sure that the last person who tried that got what was coming to her.

She pulled up the one profile that she checked every night, scanning for new photos and any status updates. Her eyes narrowed at a picture of a little boy holding a lunch box in one hand and that rich bitch’s hand in the other—“First

She’d been ready to leave it all far behind—the dry-cleaning chemicals that burned her eyes and nose, the filth from soiled clothing that clung to her hands, and the big plan that had gone awry. Just when she thought she’d finally grabbed the brass ring, everything had come crashing down. There was no question of her hanging around. When she left Missouri, she’d made sure that anyone looking for her wouldn’t find even a trace to follow.

Amber needed order—disciplined, structured order. And now, finally, she was the master of her world. And of her fate.

Amber wondered what it would be like to grow up in this kind of world, where you were groomed from infancy to have and enjoy all the good things in life. Where you made friends almost from birth with the right people and were educated in the best schools, and the blinds were tightly drawn against outsiders. She was suddenly overwhelmed with sadness and envy.

but she’d found a way to get even when she met Matthew, Frances’s handsome older brother. Mrs. Lockwood hadn’t known what hit her.

“A while after Tallulah was born, Mrs. Parrish went away. To a sort of hospital where you rest and get help.”

She had never felt that kind of love and affection for anyone in her family. She wondered what that would be like. She didn’t know quite what to say.

It was obvious to her that Daphne wasn’t as passionate about Jackson as he was about her, and that she really didn’t deserve him.

On one occasion, when Daphne left her at the house alone to go pick up the girls, she’d tried on every pair of Daphne’s underwear.

“Mark my words, Daphne—this will not end well.”

She and Jackson had been sleeping together for over two months now,

Jackson thought she was on the pill, and she’d even made sure to get a prescription and take a pill out of the dispenser each day so he wouldn’t be suspicious. Then she’d flush it. The only medication she was taking was Clomid, for fertility.

He needed me. There is nothing more enticing to me than being needed.

Everything had begun with such promise. And then, like a windshield chipped by a tiny pebble, the chip turned into deep cracks that spread until there was nothing left to repair.

My father was only fifty-nine—surely he couldn’t die.

I was learning that emotional intimidation could be just as unsettling as physical.

The one with the easy laugh and charming smile that put everyone at ease? Or the one with the scowl and critical tone who let me know with just one look that I had done something else to disappoint him? He was a chameleon, his transitions so quick and seamless they left me breathless at times.

“You look ugly when you read like that.”

He was a beautiful child, and she looked forward to the day when he’d become interesting. When he could carry on a conversation and play games instead of just lying around like a lump.