She peeks around the side and says, “Thought you could use some things.” She steps inside before I can thank her, heading straight toward the kitchen.
I turn around to close the door, but not before another shape fills the frame. All the tension comes hurdling back toward me like whiplash.
“Hey, Mom,” I swallow hard. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. Like we haven’t seen each other in months. “I was with your nana when you called her. Thought I’d tag along and see my grandson. That’s not a problem, is it?”
I step aside to let her in, ignoring the way my shoulders tighten. “Of course not.”
My nana reappears just in time, heading straight for Milo. “Hello, Mi! How’s my strong little guy doing?”
Milo perks up at the sound of her voice, twisting in his spot to wave at her with his good arm. He grins wide and proudly points to his cast with pride. My nana smiles brightly down at him and then disappears to the kitchen to finish unpacking the groceries.
My mom stands beside the door awkwardly, looking around my new apartment. This is the first time she’s been here, so I’m not surprised by how out of place she looks. She never quite fit into other spaces in my life either.
Finally, her gaze settles on me, and I brace myself for whatever she’s about to say. “You look tired,” she says, her tone halfway between observant and judgmental. We are off to a great start.
I force a smile. “It’s been a long weekend.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t comment. Instead, she moves toward the couch and crouches by Milo, her voice constricting into almost performative concern. “How are you doing, little guy? Are you being brave for Mama?”
Milo nods, but his attention is already drifting back to the TV. She seems mildly annoyed by his lack of response, but she brushes it off.
I clear my throat, wrapping my arms around my body for extra protection. “Thanks for coming, but like I told Nana on the phone, we’ve got it under control. He’s fine.”
Mom stands, smoothing her shirt. “Of course he is. But you don’t have to act like you don’t need help, Emma. There’s no shame in letting someone step in every now and then.”
I bristle but force myself to keep my voice calm. “I’m not acting like anything. I’m his mom. This is what I do.”
Her lips curl into a small smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m just saying, Emma. Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn…”
The rest of her words breeze past me and fade into the background, but I know what she’s trying to say. I look away, clenching my hands tightly to keep my mouth from saying how I really feel.
She’s always been like this. Offering help wrapped in barbed wire. But a part of me still waits, holding out for something genuine from the woman who is supposed to love me unconditionally. I know it’s foolish, but every time I see her, I revert to a shadow of myself begging for her affection. Begging for her to step up.
I wanted to hope and dream, but those things were hardand unforgiving weaknesses I didn’t have space in my heart for.
“I’ve been trying to call you for months to see if you needed anything, but you haven’t been answering me.” The statement pulls me out of my thoughts and my eyes reconnect with hers. I search for a hint of anger or hurt, but I don’t find it.
“Things have been busy,” I say, my voice flat. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. I don’t owe her that much.
Her brow lifts as her lips press into a thin line. “Too busy to let your own mother know what’s going on in her grandson’s life?”
The irony of her statement isn’t lost on me, but I bite down the bitter words bubbling up in my throat. “I told Nana,” I reply, keeping my tone even. “She’s always been good about keeping you in the loop.”
She exhales sharply through her nose. “It’s not the same, Emma. I shouldn’t have to hear secondhand updates about my family.”
Family. The word sounds wrong coming out of her mouth, like she doesn’t know how to use it.
“You’ve had plenty of opportunities to reach out,” I say, repositioning my arms over my chest. The sharp memory of her missing Milo’s first birthday party presses against my skull. She told me that her new boyfriend was taking her away for the weekend and that canceling her plans was a huge inconvenience. That was when I decided to stop begging her to be in my life.
Her lips part like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sighs and takes a step toward me. If she were anyone else’s mom, I would think she was about to hug me, but instead, she clasps her hands in front of her.
“I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”
The familiar sting of her words settles over me. I’ve heard the exact empty phrase for most of my life, but today, it feelssuffocating. My eyes drift to my whole world sitting on the couch, and suddenly, the urge to comply with my mother seems like a better idea than hashing everything out here and now.
“Of course,” I say, though the words feel hollow. “I’ve just had a lot going on lately.”
