She begins to repeat herself.
Where I spent my early teens wondering what life might be like in the White Houseas the First Daughter, because Momma had once talked about running for US Senate and then POTUS, my late teens see my mother winding down her law practice and spending more time at home.
I’m twenty-two when she finally breaks down and admits to me that she has Alzheimer’s. Momma is sixty-seven at that point. The only reason she could hide it from me for so long was that she’d hired her long-timesecretary from the law office to come to work for her when she was a state Senator, and then, after Momma left office, to be her caregiver, with the caveat that the woman couldn’t reveal her diagnosis to anyone.
Not even to me.
When Momma finally tells me, she’s still in the early stages, and has been on medications that have helped slow the progress, but won’t stop it.
I now have my firstlife-shattering secret to keep. And keep it I do, until she reaches the point she’s told me I’m allowed to begin revealing it to people.
I also make her two promises, which I faithfully keep.
The first one, that I would fearlessly follow my dreams, no matter what other people thought of me, and make a reputation for myself as ShaeLynn Samuels, and not just as Marlene Samuels’ daughter.
Done,even if I still have to sometimes convince myself I did it.
The second promise I made to her?
That I would kill her.
* * * *
Something else my mother instilled in me that I didn’t quite understand the full context of until much later in life—be careful in love. Don’t give trust carelessly. That it’s all right to fool around with someone if you want, but not to let them have leverage over you.
Especially pictures.
To never tell someone your worst secrets unless you were already convinced they’d die to protect you. Because secrets are a weakness, and you have to be diligent to protect yourself or the wrong person might use them against you.
While she never told me how she’d learned that lesson, I had the feeling it was one she’d received first-hand training in.
Momma told me she neverremarried because she’d loved Daddy. I know she had male friends, but never remember her in any kind of serious relationship. None that I was aware of. In a way, I always thought it was sweet, if not sad. I tried encouraging her to go out, to date, but she said she had me and work, and that was plenty to keep her busy.
She rarely missed school events. We had it luckier than a lot of people, somethingthat wasn’t apparent to me until I was older. Before being elected as a state senator, she tried a lot of corporate cases that made her a very wealthy woman.
I emulated my mother in many ways, including being able to support myself. I made over $400k my first full year practicing law.
I dated sparingly, and decided by the time I was twenty-five that I definitely didn’t want kids, with plansto get my tubes tied by the time I was thirty if I didn’t meet Mr. Right.
Except I really wasn’t hunting for Mr. Right.
I was diligent not to reveal much about my finances to men when I did date. I had itches to scratch, and my mother was beginning her slow downhill slide toward oblivion, so I was looking more for really great sex rather than a relationship I didn’t have the emotional energyto devote to anyway.
A smothering relationship and children wasn’t something I cared to have. My plate was overfull already. I needed simple, easy, and distracting, when I chose to have such things.
Momma was very private in some ways. I think it was due to losing my father when she did. She didn’t mind running for office, or stumping for friends, or giving a speech in front of people. But whenit came to her private life, other than mentioning she was very proud of me, she never revealed any information about me unless I specifically okayed it first.
I didn’t realize how unusual that was until I was in high school. Normal parents would talk about their kids and brag about them. I’m not even talking the normal way politician parents protect their kids. I didn’t understand why untillater.
Much later.
Childcare experts frequently say don’t treat your kids like they’re your friends, because they’ll run all over you and not respect you.
I respected my mother. I never feared her, but I think that’s because she raised me more like a business partner than a friend.
Don’t get me wrong—I felt loved and cared for. She was Momma.
But looking at my peers and their parents, I didn’tunderstand how a kid in high school didn’t already know how to balance a checkbook, or pay an electric bill, or figure mortgage interest, or understand how to read a contract.
