Her question stops me cold. “Okay, Mom,” I grumble and grab the bag to halt it from swinging, finally turning around to face my intrusive and overprotective mother. “It’s clear you’re not going to leave until you say whatever’s on your mind. So go ahead. Talk.”
For one brief second, my mother stares at me as if I just slapped her, and a knot forms in my stomach. Damn. Why am I always like this with her? Every time she even tries to talk to me, all I seem capable of doing is grabbing a handful of rocks off the ground, ready to sling them at her the second she says the wrong thing. Shit.
“I didn’t mean to be rude just now… it’s just that I’m kind of busy,Mammá.”
Her shoulders relax a little as she slowly steps toward me, ever so carefully, as if she were afraid I’ll lash out again.
“Then I’ll be quick,” she says, searching my face as if trying to read every thought in my mind. “I need to know why you’ve been so unhappy lately.”
“I’m not unhappy,” I lie smoothly.
“Yes, my sweet girl, you are,” she frowns. “Which is very puzzling, considering your father finally bent to your will and agreed to initiate you into the Outfit after your graduation.”
“Mom, if you’re here to change my mind, then—”
“No,” she cuts in gently. “That’s not why I’m here. Right now, your induction into the syndicate takes a back seat to something far more important. And that’s whatever is causing you distress and sleepless nights.”
My eyes widen at her remark. How does she know that I haven’t been sleeping well lately? Did Annamaria say something to her?
No. Anna keeps my secrets. She wouldn’t narc me out to our mother. She wouldn’t do that. Besides, it’s not like I’ve told her the whole story about Ki… I mean…admiting to Anna why I’ve been feeling so low lately would be the same as admitting that I’m in lov… No. Anna wouldn’t have said anything to our mother, because she doesn’t have anything to say. Which means, my own mother has been spying on me. I’m twenty-one and she still acts like I’m a fucking child in need of her protection.
“I’m not sure where you’re getting your information but like I said, I’m fine. Great, even. I’m riding on cloud-fucking-nine. There. Happy?” I slam my fist into the bag again, the only thing I’m allowed to hit while my mother keeps needling me.
“Don’t lie to me, Stella. We do not lie to one another. Not in this family.” I clamp my lips shut, jaw tight, and rip off my gloves. Clearly, training has to wait until she gets whatever she needs off her chest. “Since you were knee-high, beingmadeis allyou ever wanted,” she begins softly. “And though I don’t support that choice, I am confused at what could have dulled such a victory for you. I was certain you’d be shouting it from every rooftop in Chicago just to show me I have no say in how you live your life.”
“I thought that was a given.”
“Stella, please… just talk to me,” she says as she reaches for my face. And for a moment, I let her. I let her palm cup my cheek. I close my eyes, hating that she’s the only one in my family who can pull this kind of raw vulnerability out of me. “Does your recent unhappiness have anything to do with the time you spent in Russia?”
My mother’s question has me stepping back immediately, forcing her hand to drop from my cheek.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Nothing happened in Russia.”
“Well, something did. Was it because you got shot and finally realized you’re not as bulletproof as you thought?” My lips twist into a scowl.
“I knew it! That’s why you’re here. Not out of genuine concern for me, but because you think you can use my injury to manipulate me out of going through with my induction in May.”
“No such words have left my mouth,” she says quietly. “I’m just trying to understand you, Stella. Please. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Am I that difficult to understand,Mother? Am I so far out of your comprehension that nothing I say, do, or want makes sense to you?”
“I will not fight with you, Stella. Not when I came here in good faith to help you with whatever you’re going through.”
“I’m not going through anything! I’m fine!”
“Yelling that you’re fine from the top of your lungs doesn’t make you so,” she frowns.
“What do I have to say or do to prove to you that you’re seeing things? Huh?”
My mother’s eyes dim as she lowers her gaze to the floor. “When did you start hating me this much?” she asks after a tense pause. “What could I have possibly done for you to hate me like this?”
“Hmm, let me guess,” I say with biting sarcasm. “Maybe since you’ve done everything in your power to steal my dreams from me? Always standing in my way, never letting me breathe?”
The moment the words leave my mouth, something sharp and sickening hits my chest. I don’t hate my mother. Not even a little. I only hate that she can’t accept me for who I am, or more importantly, who I want to become. But saying that now would only wound her more, and from the look on her face, she’s already hurting enough.
“I’ll… leave you to your practice,” she whispers. “I’m sorry to have interrupted. It won’t happen again.”
“Mom,” I sigh.
