My mother’s hand trails up, smoothing over the already immaculate slicked back ash blonde bun at the nape of her neck. The only variation between her daily outfits are slacks or skirts and what color sweater she’s going to pair or wear over a white blouse. She always wears black pumps, and she sports enough diamonds to make her a rather outstanding target to be mugged. Not that anyone would ever have the chance. She doesn’t go anywhere without her driver, a big beefcake named JOHN, because that’s exactly the way he pronounces it in his deep, booming baritone voice, with more emphasis on the H than the N.
Today, I got the more professionaltake no prisoners, no bullshit, and none of your progeny’s excusesblack pencil skirt,black hose, black pumps, crisp white blouse, and cream sweater slung over her shoulders combination.
“Darling,” she sighs testily, changing tactics like playing nice might actually work.
I brace for it, which makes Amalphia stiffen. I can see her pulse throbbing in her wrist in the hand extended to hold her mug. Nothing good ever comes from my mother starting a sentence with that word. The way she says it, it might as well be:Listen up, you little fucker.
“Do you really want to screw up your life again?”
Told you.
Amalphia snorts, letting the obviously rhetorical question bounce right off of her. “Record number two for rudeness. I’m starting to think you’re not a morning person,Mrs. Beanbottom. Could I get you a coffee? They’re excellent.”
My blood is at the point of boiling straight over, but I’m going to keep my composure long enough to see my mother out of my house.Andchange the combination for all the doors so she can’t come back in.
“You might think I’m making bad decisions.” I punctuate that with a grind of my molars that I just can’t help. “You might see it as screwing up. Truth is, though, you never really cared what I felt one way or the other. All you cared about was the family name.”
My mother gasps as if I’ve just told her that I’m going to start a new career narrating audiobooks, but only if they involve refrigerator smut.
She’s not going to get it unless I go straight to the point that I’ve never been brave enough to circle back around to. Not since the first time I went to her. One glance at Amalphia’s gently encouraging look gives me the courage.
“I wish you would have believed me when I came to you, needing you more than anything. Needing you to be a mother and to see me, hear me, and love me.”
“I protected you!”
“You did, in a way, but you never believed me, and thatmattered.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Her brows are sharp enough to cut all the glass in here and send them shattering around our feet in a bunch of brightly lit shards.
“I don’t think I am, but that’s not the conversation we’re having. Amalphia is a beautiful person, so I’m going to ask you once, and once only, to please refrain from making judgments and saying horrible things. I won’t have you or Dad in my life if you both can’t stop being toxic human beings instead of loving parents.”
“Excuse me? Now, listen here, Warrick, I—”
I have to cut her off because she’s not listening. I expected it, but even so, it’s still a horrible feeling to have my heartfelt, extremely hard-won words bounce right off of her like she’s wearing a protective trampoline suit. “Even just regular parents would be alright. I’m exhausted, Mom. I’m tired of being controlled. I don’t feel loved, and half the time, I don’t feel like a part of this family. There’s a lot we have to work on, but we can’t do that if you’re not willing.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” my mother repeats, indicating my coffee mug like it’s the cause of all the world’s wrongs. She quickly changes her mind and snaps her fingers in Amalphia’s direction. “She’s a…a…nothing more than a coochie.”
“I think you mean hussy. This is a coochie.” Amalphia makes a whistling noise as she points down to her jeans and then back up. She can’t control the humor underscoring her tone.
My mother can’t control stamping her foot on the hardwood floor either. “She’s got your head in a mess, just like Candice did when you were sixteen, and look how that ended up.”
I think all three of us knew she was going there. No one’s surprised. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Amalphia isn’t Candice, and it could have all ended up quite differently if only you had justlistenedand had an ounce of compassion.”
“I listened. Wesavedyou.” Red is the new red when it comes to my mother’s scarlet face. I almost ask her a second time if she’s sure she doesn’t want some coffee.
On that cue, I take a deep pull of my own. Ahhh. The deliciousness hits me, but not as hard as Amalphia’s soft eyes, offering me all the support in the world. They’re like a hug on their own. A silent,it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.
I really want to get to the point of this so I can wrap. It. Up. “You came to talk about me leaving the company, and my answer isn’t going to change. My notice stands. I want to do something else.”
“What’s more important than carrying on the family business?”
“It will carry on whether I’m there or not. It’s not even anything that’s just in the family anymore. I want to make robot pets for all the kids out there whose parents can’t or won’t get them one. Affordable robot pets.”
“What a calling,” my mother scoffs. She’s getting ready to waggle her eyebrows at me again, so I bury my face in my coffee cup before I respond.
“I’m sure people thought that about Great-Grandpa when he was installing air conditioners and then came up with his own invention.”
“People need air conditioners. They don’t need stupid little robots.”
