“That was months ago,” I said flatly.
“Yes…” She trailed off, then let out a sigh. “He brought it to my attention that I haven’t been the best support to you through the years.”
“You haven’t.”
“I just…”
“Mom, I really don’t want to have this conversation.” I plopped on the edge of my bed.
“I do,” she snapped. “I’ve been trying to call you for weeks now, and I finally got you on the phone.”
“Did you ever think I wasn’t answering for a reason?”
“Well, you’ve beenbusy, but I knew you would have to answer eventually.”
“I thought you were Abi. I wouldn’t have answered if I saw it was you. Mom, I really am busy. I’m packing and—”
“Quinn, I’m trying here,” she said harshly, the same shout from my childhood, which only made my stomach churn.
“Are you, Mom? Or are you trying to make yourself feel better?” I asked, the tension finally snapping in me.
“I just wanted to connect with you somehow. You didn’t want that.”
“I didn’t want to do pageants.” I raised my arm in the air, pretending to release all the frustration. “I didn’t want to be a rodeo queen. I wanted to work. I wanted a horse. I wanted to race—but that wasn’t enough for you to be proud of me.”
“Quinn, I show you I’m proud of you in other ways.”
“Like?” I asked, the annoyance spreading through me.
Silence.
“I asked you before I moved, and you didn’t answer.”
Again, she was silent.
I inhaled. “Your silence is loud, Mom.” I exhaled.
“It’s not that I’mnotproud of you,” she said softly. “I just wish you had chosen what we wanted for you.”
“That’s just it—what you wanted. Not what I wanted. You have no idea how much I love racing. How much I love this world I’m a part of. I’m good at it, great even. I’m going to the NFR—did you see that?”
“Your dad may have mentioned it,” she muttered.
“I'm packing right now. I’m looking at my closet full of shirts and boots and hats, and I have to convince you that this is what I’m supposed to be doing.” I ran my hand through my hair, still feeling the static that clung to me. “Thisis what I’m supposed to be doing,” I repeated.
“I…” I could hear her swallow. “I know. I can see you.”
“Then why don’t you tell me that? When you see me at an event, it’s because you’re there with your rodeo queen, and you make sure I know they are carrying the flags. You were more interested in Wyatt than the score I got one night. Everyone is always more important than me. Everyone has always been more important than me.”
“Quinn I—”
“Mom.” I stopped her. “Reno. I told you what I really needed from you…and here we are, months later, and I’m saying the same thing. I don’t think this is an easy thing that a phone call can fix. It’s not going to get better overnight.”
“I want to try to make it better.”
Slowly, I closed my eyes. “Mom—” I breathed, feeling the tears swell in my eyes. This is what I wanted, what I needed. I wanted my mom’s acceptance more than anything—and yet… “I don’t know if you can make it better.”
“I can try.”
