She used to tell me that at any moment she could meet the doctor of her dreams while picking out a honeydew melon or someone with the perfect business opportunity that was her match made in heaven. Growing up, my brothers found it hilarious, and I would just roll my eyes. I’d never been interested in finding Mr. Right or an opportunity falling into my lap. I didn’t need to be when my mom was interested enough for the both of us—at least about the man part. She thought hard work for women was raising children, not owning your own company—not an either or situation in her mind.
I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her at the table. Her gaze flicked from my messy bun, down to my top that showed off more skin than should be allowed by her standards, and then back up to my face, which sported not a singular speck of makeup today.
“Hello, darling. Would you care for some tea? Maybe a sandwich?” Mom asked, her gaze dropping for a brief moment before returning to my face. “Maybe some more…clothing,” her voice fading out at the end.
It took all of my energy not to answer her with an eye roll, which had become my signature move when talking tomy mother over the last fifteen or so years. I knew it would just enrage her, and I once again didn’t have the energy today.
“Thank you for the offer, Mom. I think I will have some tea and maybe a muffin today,” I replied, committed to ignoring her other comment completely.
I loved my outfit,I repeated mentally over and over again.I looked good and I loved my outfit.
Mom waved a waitress over and we put our order in, only to end up staring at each other once the waitress left the side of our table. This was how our weekly lunches always went. We’d order, stare awkwardly, before making small talk that I ignored half of because it was thinly veiled insults toward my life choices, and then we’d go our separate ways, only to do it again the following week.
Was it healthy? Probably not. But it was the only motherly relationship I’d ever known. I’d been telling myself for years that one day I was going to be honest. I was going to tell her how I felt, and we were going to mend this broken thing we called our mother-daughter bond. It would get better, healthier, and we’d actually talk like two human beings who enjoyed each other’s company. We’d learn and explore common interests, braid each other’s hair, whatever else mothers and daughters did together.
However, that didn’t seem to be happening today, and Mom said braids were for people who wanted to skip hair washing days and make it look thought out. Maybe I’d pick a day when I was wearing more‘appropriate’clothing for our lunch date.
“So Mom, how’s your week been?” I asked in an effort to fill the void of love and affection I found myself desperately craving lately.
She fiddled with the napkin in her lap for a momentbefore placing her hands gently in her lap. I glanced down at my arms sitting on the table and forced myself to also drop them to my lap—arms didn’t go on the table, it was rude.
“It was fine. I had dinner with your brothers last night. They’re working a new job that they seem to love, although I don’t have enough information to know if I fully approve of it or not.” She shrugged and looked out the cafe window as a few people moseyed by with shopping bags and smiling faces.
“What are they doing?” Evan and Elliot were my younger brothers. They were only nine months apart, Irish twins people called them, but they were both twenty-two now, Evan being the eldest of the two. Because they were so close in age, they’d been causing trouble together since they left the womb and could hold their heads up on their own. I loved them dearly, but it was always something—none of which was holding down a job, sadly. When Elliot wanted to leave, Evan followed. When Elliot wanted to cause a ruckus, Evan asked where to.
Mom cleared her throat before looking back at me. “They’re working on a ranch with your father’s brother.”
I sat across from her, mouth slightly ajar, unsure of what to say. Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to bring us our muffins and teas, saving me from an awkward commentary event.
My father, Bennett Dunagan, was a known gambler and basically a con artist. He’d been in and out of our lives for years. Running some sort of scheme and then disappearing from the face of the planet while life cooled down, only to pop back up when you least wanted him around. My mother never put her foot down over it because apparently love made you do stupid shit—like love, marry, and have three kids with a known crook.
His brother, Howard, or Uncle Howie as we’d called him as children, would hear none of it. When Mom refused to cut off Bennett, Uncle Howie cut her off. He wanted nothing to do with his brother and their ongoing feud over the family land or something of the sort. The only time we’d see him was when we’d spend an extended period of time with Grandpa Joe.
I couldn’t seem to stop the concern and confusion though. I knew my mother wanted to just let it go, but that wasn’t my style. “What exactly are they doing with Uncle Howie? When, or even how, did that happen?”
She rolled her eyes, a practiced mannerism she had perfected over the years, before pursing her lips at me. “I don’t know Ember. Why don’t you call and ask? Evidently, he bought the family ranch from your grandfather years ago without your father’s knowledge, and he’s been running it ever since. Your brothers are helping him there with farm work, or whatever in the heavens they do with those dirty animals and far too much land.”
I chuckled, I couldn’t help it. The Dunagan family had been a ranching family for decades. Grandpa Joe used to tell me that we still had some of the biggest property in Colorado, but he’d sold some of it off to a few ranchers around him when it got to be too much for just him and Uncle Howie to care for, and then my mom sold off the small bit that his house was on.
When my parents met, my father still lived and worked out there, but Mom made it clear she’d never set foot on the ranch once they were married. Apparently, she thought the ‘ranch air’ and ‘muck’ weren’t pleasant on her skin.
“Oh, well good for them. That’s awesome,” I said instead of every other random thing I wanted to say—like the fact that my brothers working hard was a good thing. Maybethey’d get some structure and positive influence in their lives that they desperately needed. Stability was the word that came to mind.
“I’m just glad they’re out there experiencing life. Maybe they can throw you some pointers. I think Elliot even has a new girlfriend too,” Mom said with a shrug.
I groaned internally—here we go. “Oh, thank the gods above for that,” I muttered, more to myself as I ate some of my blueberry muffin, hoping that if my mouth stayed busy chewing up the pastry, I couldn’t say anything else to her that could be construed as rude or ungrateful for this time together.
“I’m just saying, Ember Rae, you aren’t getting any younger, and you work all the time. How will you ever meet your match if you never take a step outside for more than yoga and suffering through lunch with me once a week? Do you think you’ll meet a man at your work? Do men even do yoga? At this rate, the only one who will give me grandchildren is Elliot. We both know I won’t get any from Evan now.”
She looked so serious that I couldn’t hold back the laugh. It was either laugh at her or rage against the condescending tone in which she whined about my brother telling us a few months ago that he thought he was bisexual, as if they suddenly meant he didn’t want children. “Who knows, Mom, maybe I’ll try online dating. Put all my qualifications out there and see if I can find someone tomatchmy freak.” The stupid sex app the girls from earlier were talking about immediately came to mind, and I quickly pushed that shit right back down. I was not joining a sex app to find ‘the love of my life’, as my mother called it. “Oh! I could get a cat! Actually, that isn’t a horrible idea. I may go to the shelter and see who’s there.”
Mom stared at me, slack-jawed and clearly shocked. “I…I just don’t know where I went wrong with you.” She shook her head and finished her tea.
We chatted for a few more minutes before we both called it quits. Kissing her goodbye, we parted ways at the door, and I couldn’t wait to be back in my own space. Maybe with a cat, because I didn’t need a damn man next to me to feel complete—but a cat didn’t sound so bad.
2
WHY THE FUCK NOT
