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She frowns, her hands trembling on her thighs. “There’s no excuse. I wanted to protect you; we both did. Though I won’t speak for your father now. I want you to hear my side—not so it changes anything, but so maybe you could understand some of my…” She pauses again. “Shortcomingsas your mother.”
“Okay.”
“Your father and I got married when I was twenty-one,” she reminds me. “He was older than me, somewhat similar to your situation with Matthew. Except our relationship wasn’t quite the road to love that you’ve had.”I want to quirk an eyebrow at her, but it seems like she’s having a difficult time. “Ray’s mother approached me at my Cornell graduation and offered me a ticket to this life. I was set to work atThe New Yorkerthat fall—”
My mouth juts open. I had no idea. “What?”
“At one point, things looked different.” My mom sighs, picking up her tea. Surprisingly, it’s easy to picture Vivian running around with a pen and paper, trying to get the latest scoop. “I told my parents about the Greene trust, about how I’d marry into this dynasty and have a shot at something bigger than what was awaiting me after college, and I took it. I chose riches over my dreams, over real love. Little did I know, despite all the money, I agreed to spend my entire life as an outsider.”
It’s heartbreaking that my mother had to give up parts of herself to fit into a life she didn’t truly belong in.A reminder that sometimes the people closest to us are dealing with their own struggles and challenges, and we may not even be aware.
Like how no one knew I was suffocating for years.
“Fitting into society was arduous. Everyone made sure to remind me that I didn’t belong, that I wasn’t quite the right fit. But, with time, your father and I learned to love each other. We became friends, and it made things easier.” She takes a long sip of her tea and sets it back on the coffee table. “When we had you, our love shifted into something more, and I found that feeling I’d been searching for…like I belonged. My own family. You probably don’t remember this, but I submitted a few pieces toThe New Yorkerbefore you were five. A part of my identity was coming back.”
My heart quakes in my chest, caught between the betrayal of never knowing this side of her and the fact that, despite her feeling like an outsider, my mother made me think I didn’t belong either.
Her shoulders slump as she continues, “Then Ray had to step in and take over the business, and the small life we started, the life that felt like home, crumbled. Suddenly, I was responsible for planning galas and benefits, as all the other Mrs. Greenes did before me. There was no room for me in my own life, and I didn’t want that for you.”
“But why Lance, Mom? Why did you risk pushing me away? Was the expansion really all you cared about? I don’t understand.”
“Your father promised that the Gold Coast would be his final impact on the business. He was going to retire, come home to me—to us—and we would be a family again.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?”
“Because it seemed simple in my head. I wanted to take care of it.”
“Lance cheated on me the entire time we were together. You were glad to leave me in a loveless marriage. You’d rather givemeupso thatyoucould be happy with Dad?” I say, anger in my voice.
“I know. I was wrong. I was so focused on what I thought was right. I got stuck playing the game, moving around the chess pieces, and I was willing to… You’re right, Molly. I was willing to sacrifice you for an opportunity to get the old days back.”
It hurts more than I expected.
I reach for her, pulling one of her hands into mine and holding on to it tightly. “I’m sorry that you felt like you made a mistake, Mom, but you’ve tried to do the same thing to me. Except, unlike you, I wasn’t given a choice. I’ve spent years being afraid to be myself around you.” I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
A few months ago, when my world shifted and I saw an opportunity for freedom, I knew I had to take it. Everything I left behind, including the many years I spent crafting parts of myself to please others, no longer mattered. While I may never get that portion of my life back, I did learn, the hard way,that being true to myself is the best choice I could have made in this one life.
“Molly.” My mom’s low voice cracks, and a tear rolls down the pale skin of her cheek.
“There have been so many times when I felt that I was sacrificing myself for you, hiding pieces of me so that you’d love me.” My own tears return. “I can’t do that anymore. If you’re going to be in my life, I need you to accept me for everything that I am, for every choice that I make. And I need you to hear me, loud and clear: you will never make a single decision for me again. I can stand on my own two feet, and I don’t want to grant you the privilege of knowing me just so you can chip away at me again.”
I don’t know what I expect. Maybe an objection, a wince. Except my mother reaches over to me shakily and wraps her slender arms around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”
I sink into her embrace. A warmth spreads between us, one I haven’t felt in so many years. It’s bittersweet and long overdue. Vivian will have to do a lot of showing me that she’s sorry. We could probably talk about boundaries for hours, but right now, I simply let myself be held by my mother.
A faint sense of safety rolls over me.I’m in control.
When we break apart, I give her a tissue from a nearby box. “Do we have an understanding?”
“Of course.” She stifles a cough.
“I also want you to know that this doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate aspects of my childhood. You’ve given me a confidence that I doubt I’d have picked up anywhere else. And Dad, for all of his years away at work, taught me perseverance. Both of you gave me pieces of yourselves that I love, and right now, I’m trying to exist with both the good and the bad.”
My mother gives me a lopsided smile, mascara coating the bottom of her lids. “We got lucky with you, Molly. You have such a good head on your shoulders.” She pulls in a steadying breath. “You’re right. I was refusing to see that I forced you to have the life I had. In my own fear and protectiveness, I thought I did the right thing, but in reality, I was only passing down the pressure that made me the person I am today. The mother who hurt you.”
Maybe there’s a chance for us to be happy together.
“Thank you for listening to me,” I say. “It would probably be best if you started getting help with your narcissistic tendencies. It’s also important to me that you fix things with my husband.”
