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Not in the mood to argue, I grab the last pillow she fluffed, hugging it to fit the empty spot in my chest.
I was successful at avoiding my mom’s calls since Jake disappeared from my life four days ago. But the one thing anyone who endured serious medical problems as a kid will tell you is that there’s only so much space a parent used to hovering can stand. Add on that I had a “headache” when I left the gala and that my mother’s messages were super-clingy, it left me no choice but to pick up the phone and say my radio silence was because Jake and I had broken things off.
My lips twist and I fight back another wash of tears. How lucky am I that I have someone who calls to pester me? Who would my mother give all of this love to if I weren’t here?
“Listen,” I call toward the kitchen, where Mom is pouring us cups of herbal tea. “It doesn’t make a difference to me whether you approved of my boyfriend or not. I understand why you don’t.Didn’t.It’s not like Jake has a stellar reputation. Can we move on to a lighter topic?”
Mom brought a box of chocolate croissants over to cheer me up.
“That’s fine.” She takes two coasters from the stack on the coffee table and places each of our steamy saucers on top. “I ran into Greer and Karen at Baked Beans. Greer had just told Karen her big news. Karen is thrilled, like an expectant grandmother. Are you excited for her?”
Of course, I’m excited for Greer. How could I not be? Greer and I talked about her concerns over her business partner’s reaction.
Previous to opening Mind Your Own Beeswax, Greer and Byron were co-workers at an animal training facility that Karen and her husband own. Finding out Greer and Byron had begun a relationship was hard for Karen. Karen’s son died in a tragic accident at eighteen. He and Greer had been close as children and both families had the impression they’d get married someday. With the support of Greer and Karen’s husband, Mac, Karen has new strategies to cope with a serious amount of grief she was sure she had a handle on. I’m glad for everyone’s sake the gap between the past and the present isn’t as deep anymore.
“It’s wonderful Karen’s going to get to be a part of this baby’s life. Byron’s going to be a great dad,” I say.
“Finding someone like that is so important. You’ll see. You’ll know when it’s right.”
“I don’t want kids, Mom.” I never have, and I’ve told her this before.
“You say that now.” She pats my knee. “Your father was a wonderful father.”
My mother is about to sing-song about our family’s highlights. The first days of school when my dad walked me to the bus stop, the vacations, and everything in between. We’ve had this discussion too many times to count. I could repeat the stories verbatim. After all, I was there with adults doting upon me, and I remember almost everything after the age of two.
But today I’m tired and I don’t want to hear mom recount her version the same way I don’t want her to make me feel like shit by slandering Jake.
“Do you remember how your father took the day off and held your hand—”
“In the waiting room before I had an abortion? Yes, Mom. I do.”
Like it was yesterday, actually. He held my hand through the silent parking lot as well. Secure in my choice, the idea that protesters would be there, yelling that I was going to hell, horrified me. I hate to break it to them, but when you’re that scared someone intends to hurt you for doing something you have every right to do, you’re already in hell.
I was lucky my dad was there for me. He will forever be the best man I’ll have ever known that he supported me. That he remained by my side and didn’t judge.
“How? When? Your father and I—we didn’t have secrets in our marriage. I would have… known…” Her sad voice trails.
“When we went on the three-day weekend the year I opened the boutique.”
I roll my lips between my teeth. Though unintentional, I’m riddled with guilt that I’ve tarnished my mother’s memory of the man she loved. He did so much good in this world.
Dad’s own heart condition and the work he did on behalf of his patients were likely the reason he had empathy when I went to him.
I never wanted children. Twenty years ago, cardiac surgeons told my parents it was a risk to my health for me to carry a pregnancy to term. Ten years ago, there was a glimmer of potential. But by then, the vision I had of my life included my store. My hard work fulfilled me. To my dismay, as my goal was coming to fruition, my birth control failed.
I’d been on the pill for years and the man I’d been exclusive with and I stopped using a second method. The marriage discussion hadn’t come up. Not that I had any interest. We were the Friday night couple. Committed enough to enjoying our youth that our arrangement worked for us. He was straight out of business school with an MBA. Unable to hire the help I was in desperate need of, I put in insane hours getting the store up and running.
I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. Eventually, he moved away to start a new job. Wrapped up in getting my fledgling business off the ground, I missed his presence less and less faster than I thought I would. What we had wasn’t true love. It was companionship, pure and simple.
“We would have helped you. I would have helped you!” My mother’s voice rises. She wants grandchildren.
“Daddidhelp me.”
“He lied about a father-daughter trip so that you could.” Flustered, her hands wave in the air.
I grab them, squeezing tight. “So I could live my life and reach for my dreams.”
“Marrying Gavin would have changed your mind about motherhood. Having you was one of the most important moments. I couldn’t imagine it if you weren’t here. You survived so much more than any child should endure.”
