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I smile at her and give her a hug.
And now to face the beast.
I take the train to meet my mom. I don’t want to bother Hunter, who’s been too good to me already, or Cash who might want to join us. Even if I don’t want to see her, it might be a good time for us to talk things through. Find some common ground.
I hesitate outside the candlelit bistro. I stand off to the side as smiling people filter in and out of the open restaurant doors. If only I could be as happy as them about meeting my own mother.
It starts as soon as I get to the table. She doesn’t even let me set my purse down or admire her white and plum ensemble.
She’s early, as usual. Well maybe I shouldn’t say that. The truth is, Susan Anderson is only early when it suits her. And I’m about to find out just how much this dinner suits her.
“Could it kill you to be less tardy?” That’s the first thing she says to me before the waiter has a chance to pull out my chair. It’s such a jarring difference between her welcome and the calm ambience in the bistro.
My face falls. I’m immediately turned off and wish I were back at Hunter’s or in my own room. I sit down and take a sip of water before I answer her.
“Apologies, Mother. Next time I’ll ask the train driver to be faster. It’s good to see you too.”
“Don’t be sarcastic with me. You know I hate that. Proper young women don’t use the train. Chase or Hunter could have brought you. Or you would have asked me to send you a car.”
Why do I even try? Nothing makes her happy.
“And what are you wearing? I don’t remember buying this ugly dress. Is it a dress, or a dressing gown? Those shoes –” She clutches her heart with her fist and bows her head for a second, like a short prayer.
I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I tug at my dress, all my confidence in its suitability for the occasion erased.
“Mom, it really isn’t that bad,” I say shakily.
She narrows her eyes. Her voice is an angry whisper. “I specified a fancy dinner. Look around at how everyone else looks, Wren. You could have sent me a picture for my opinion.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. There is no way she is serious. My blood is starting to boil.
“Each time I’ve seen you since you started school, your attitude towards me has been rotten to the core. This isn’t how I raised you. We used to be so close. Why can’t we be like that again?”
Does this woman have selective amnesia? When’s the last time we’ve been close? Definitely not during my teenage years. Definitely not beforedad…That word. It feels like a knife has plunged into my heart. I inhale and exhale to ease the pain.
Why did she invite me here just to embarrass me and make me feel bad?
I shut my eyes then open them and look at her. “Mom, can we please just have a cordial meal? Maybe ask me how school is going and I’ll ask you about your life.” I scramble desperately for a way to placate her. “And I think you look very nice today.”
“We’ll do all that. That’s why I asked to see you. But first you need to break up with Hunter, immediately. He is a bad influence for you. I don’t like it.”
I’m shocked. I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. I stare at her, unable to move, internally processing everything she has said.
“And perhaps this school is a bad influence, also. You’ve changed too much for my liking. It can’t just be that boy alone. You never wanted to go there anyway, so we can find somewhere better suited for you.”
It’s true I didn’t choose BC for myself, but I’ve acclimatized to it. So well in fact, I can’t imagine myself anywhere else. I have friends, I love the classes, I have Hunter. But she wants me to simply move away from it all, just like that?
I finally remember how to use my mouth. “On a whim?”
“Use your words, darling. I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“You want me to drop my new life all because you don’t like it? This school and Hunter have actually helped me see your lies.” My voice is icy venom. “How dare you try to act like the distance between us started in the fall? You’ve lied to me my whole life. You married my real father and moved us into his house, and you couldn’t even have the decency to tell me who he was? Who does that?”
She looks around, perturbed. People are starting to stare, but I don’t care.
I raise my voice. “How close were we, when I never knew the truth about anything? Remind me of the day you sat me down and told me the truth. Remind me of a time you’ve actually mothered me and made it easy to love you?”
My chest heaves. My mouth feels dry. I pick up a glass of water and drink greedily.
