Beth had a strained relationship with her mother, Margaret. She had four older brothers and sisters, most of whom had gone on to pursue important careers: doctor, vet, founder of a non profit, and politician who was already in talks of running for president. Beth, meanwhile, set her heart on becoming a scientific illustrator. She knew it was niche but she was a good artist and figured this was pretty much guaranteed paid work while she built her profile as an artist.
Margaret, however, wasn't thrilled by the idea. Her father, Richard, wasn't happy about her chosen career, either, but it was Margaret who seemed most upset by it all and she made her opinions perfectly clear.
More than her choice of career, Margaret wasn't happy that Beth still hadn't found her future husband. She hadn't told them that it was equally as likely that she could find a wife or a gender non-conforming spouse.
"Mom, please," Beth said as she dropped her books and bag onto her bed and started to shrug her coat off.
"Elizabeth," Margaret said, making Beth roll her eyes. Her parents were the only ones who absolutely insisted on using her full name. "You need to start thinking about your future."
"I'm in college. I can assure you that my future is all I think about."
"Good. So you've found somebody?"
Beth sat down on her bed and rubbed her eyes. "No."
"Oh, but you have to bring someone to Thanksgiving."
"Mom-"
"You know your brothers and sisters will all be there-"
"Mom-"
"I'm just thinking about your future. You need to find a husband who will care for you." If your art doesn't work out. Margaret didn't have to say the last half of the sentence for Beth to hear it.
"Fine!" Beth snapped. She cleared her throat. "I mean-"
"You mean you've found somebody?"
Beth's mind was reeling. She was trying not to lie to her mother but who was to say she couldn't tragically break up with her boyfriend before Thanksgiving?
"Yeah," she muttered, a headache forming between her eyes.
"Oh, that's just wonderful, darling. We can't wait to meet him."
Beth frowned as she slipped her shoe off and picked it up, inspecting the coffee stains. "Brain," she muttered.
"Oh! Brian. Wonderful. I must tell your father. Goodbye."
Before Beth could say anything, Margaret hung up, preparing to meet her youngest daughter's new boyfriend.