Chapter One
Tasha
“Yoo hoo! Good morning! Are you up, sweetheart?”
From inside my bathroom, where I stood in front of the mirror finishing my makeup, I closed my eyes and sighed. This was the last straw. She was going to have to give up the key to my house. This time, I was going to insist.
“I’m in here, Mom. In the bathroom.” I leaned out into the short hallway, my mascara wand still in my hand. “I’m on my way to work though, and I’m running late. What are you doing here?” I knew it sounded a little harsh, but sometimes that was the only language my mother understood.
“Oh, I was just passing by and thought I’d stop in and see how you are this morning.” She rounded the corner, her blinding smile in place, even though it didn’t completely disguise the worry in her eyes.
I returned to the mirror and finished coating my lashes, staying silent as I did. Once I’d screwed the tube closed and dropped the mascara into my makeup tray, I stepped out of the bathroom, clicking off the light, and leaned against the doorjamb.
“Mom, we’ve talked about this. You can’t just drop over whenever you want.” I struggled to organize my thoughts so that I could say what I needed my mother to understand. In the back of my head, my therapist’s voice was a calm reminder.
Communicate your needs in a way that is clear without being hurtful.
“I need you to respect my privacy, and when you not only stop by without calling ahead, but also use your key to come in without asking me first, it makes me feel as though you’re not doing that. You’re not respecting my privacy.”
Her face fell, that smooth forehead crinkling in a frown. “Tasha, that’s not true. I do respect your privacy. I just worry—”
I knew that was coming, and it was all I could do to keep from rolling my eyes like I did when I was fifteen. Those words—I just worry—were the chorus and stanza to the background music for my growing up years.
We want you to be happy, Tasha, but we just worry about those friends.
We want you to be who you are, Tasha, but we just worry you’re making some bad choices.
He seems like a nice boy, Tasha, but we just worry that you’re moving too fast.
Again, I pulled out some ammunition from the arsenal that Amy, my therapist, had given me. “I know, Mom. And I appreciate that, and I know it’s because you love me. But I’m not a teenager anymore, and I have to make my own decisions and mistakes, even if they’re not what you and Daddy might want for me.” I paused, letting that settle in before I went on, carefully following the route Amy and I had planned for this sort of occasion.
Remind her of their agreements with you and what you’ve discussed previously. But do it in a calm, loving way.
“Remember when I decided to move here, to live near you and Daddy, you agreed that you’d give me the space I need? You and Daddy promised that you’d let me—”No, that was wrong. They didn’t ‘let’ me do anything, because I was an adult. “That you’d understand that we all have boundaries, and you’d respect mine.”
My mother brushed her silky blonde hair, so different from my own short red curls, out of her face, tucking the strands behind one ear. “I absolutely do, honey. It’s not like I’m here all the time.”
“Mom.” I cocked my head and fastened her with a pseudo-patient stare. “Come on. If you’re not stopping by, you’re calling me three times a day. I’m twenty-six years old. That’s excessive. It would be too much even if I were only twenty-one.” I gave a long and heavy sigh and held out one hand, palm up. “I need you to give me your key.”
The look of horror on her face was almost comical, as though I’d asked her to cut out a kidney and hand it over. “What? No, Tasha. Come on. You’re being ...” She trailed off, and I suspected it was because she’d considered what she was going to say and realized it was too much. My mom was normally a reasonable woman. The only exception was when it came to me.
“If I can’t trust that you’re not going to keep letting yourself in, I have to take it.” I was standing firm on this. It was past time.
“But what if you need me to do something here while you’re at work? Or what if you go away, and you need me to ...” Her eyes darted around. “Water your plants?”
I laughed. “I don’t have any plants or pets, and you know it. If I did, I’d give you a key on a temporary basis. And I don’t have any plans to travel just now, either.” I wiggled my fingers. “Come on, now. Don’t make me call Daddy. You know he’ll be on my side.”
With an exaggerated exhale, she dug the key out of her jacket pocket and smacked it into my hand. “Fine. But you just remember when you slip in the shower, and you don’t want the firemen to find you naked on the bathroom floor, that if I still had a key, I could come in and cover you up.”
“Ooooh, are the firemen naked, too?” I waggled my eyebrows.
“Tasha Marie!” Mom shook her head, but I saw her lips twitch. “You’re incorrigible.”
“True.” I linked my arm through hers. “Come on. I need to leave for work, so I’ll walk out with you.”
She cast me a side-eyed glance. “Is this your way of making sure I don’t stay behind and snoop around your apartment? Read your diary? Check your mail and the expiration date on your milk?”
Again, I chuckled. “Oh, Mama. I do love you.”
