More silence.
“You gave it to him after I specifically asked you not to.”
“He was very persuasive. He just wants to talk to you, Natalie. Is that really so terrible?”
“Yes! It is! Because I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to hear his excuses or his apologies or his explanations. I want him to leave me alone.” Tears of frustration fill my eyes.
“Maybe if you would just listen to what he has to say.”
“I'm done.” I cut her off. “I'm done listening to you defend the man who humiliated me. I'm done pretending that your opinion matters more than my own happiness. And I'm done having this conversation.”
“Natalie, wait.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
I hang up and stand there on the porch, shaking with anger. My hands are trembling so badly that I almost drop the phone.
The front door opens behind me.
“Everything okay, sweetheart?”
Danna's voice is filled with concern. I turn around, and she takes one look at my face, and her expression shifts to understanding.
“Come sit down.” She guides me to the porch swing and sits beside me. “Was that your mother?”
I nod, still fighting the urge to burst into tears.
“I heard a little bit through the window. Not on purpose, I promise. Mothers don't always get it right. Even when they mean well, sometimes they cause more hurt than help.”
“She gave my ex-boyfriend my phone number. Again. After I specifically asked her not to.”
“That's a violation of your trust.”
“She doesn't see it that way. She thinks I'm being dramatic. That I should forgive him because he comes from a good family.” I laugh bitterly. “Like family money excuses cheating.”
Danna is quiet for a moment. “When Ethan was drafted, I was terrified. Not because of the hockey, but because of what comes with it. The money, the fame, and the attention. I'd seen so many young men get destroyed by that world. I was afraid I'd lose my son to it.”
Mentioning Ethan immediately takes my mind away from my mother.
“I had to trust that we had raised him to know what matters. The money is nice, but it's not who he is.” She turns to face me. “Your mother sounds like someone who got lost along the way and started valuing the appearance of things more than the substance.”
“That's exactly what she is.”
“I'm sorry. But you don't have to accept being hurt just because she's your mother. You're allowed to set boundaries and to protect yourself.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. I've been holding them back for so long, telling myself that I'm fine, that my mother's behavior doesn't affect me. But sitting here with this woman who welcomed me into her home without question, who treats me like family after knowing me for three days, I realize how much I've been missing.
This is what a mother should be. Warm, supportive, and present. Not cold and judgmental, and more concerned with appearances than her daughter's happiness.
“Thank you,” I say.
Danna pulls me into a hug and holds me while I cry. When I finally pull back, wiping my eyes, she hands me a tissue from her pocket.
“Mothers always have tissues,” she says with a smile.
“Mine never did.”
“Then you'll have to borrow mine.”
