“I know. So?”
“So, how can you move on if you don’t talk to her?” she insisted. “I didn’t raise you to run away from your problems. Transferring schools was exactly that.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” I had to sit up now to get a handle on my emotions. “Running from my problems? Mom, they hurt me. And now, you want me to hear them out?”
“I didn’t say anything about hearing them out.” She sounded like she was sitting up straighter too. Much like me, gearing for the inevitable head-to-head we barreled towards.
“What else does talking to them entail, then?”
“Facing them,” she corrected. “Doing something besides getting drunk, making a banner with someone’s mistakes on it and publicly humiliating them. Emmy, do you understand how immature your actions were?”
“At the time, no. I was hurt,” I said through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t exactly thinking in a mature mindset.”
“And you’re still not thinking in one now. You’re talking about going away for the weekend with this guy you’ve just met,” she retorted. I heard the creak of her office chair as she leaned back. “I don’t know where I went wrong…”
“What do you mean, went wrong?” I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me.
“In teaching you how to be a smart woman.”
I scoffed. “Smart woman? Is this why you’ve been so annoying, lately?”
“Hey, watch your tone.”
“Sorry, but you’ve been treating me with such callous. You’ve never done this before, and I’m trying to understand what I did to deserve it.”
“This isn’t a punishment.” Mom’s voice sounded softer and a little pained. “Emmy, after I heard what you’d done, I realized your dad and I hadn’t given you all the tools you need to deal with real-life things. We babied you, and your actions proved it. Your constant need to be in a relationship, even if it’s bad, proves it.”
I rubbed my hand over my face, unprepared to be read by my mom of all people today. “I’m sorry.”
“This situation doesn’t require an apology anymore, sweetheart. If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. I failed, and I… don’t know how to make it right.”
“I am doing better, Mom,” I promised in earnest. “You don’t have to make it right because I’m doing it for myself. This whole year has been an improvement. I’ve ceased all partying and most drinking. Have I told you about my doc?”
“You have and it sounds wonderful.”
I breathed a little easier at her supportive response. “I actually sourced a few subjects for myself earlier this week. Filming the interviews has been going great.”
“And what about hearing those kinds of stories?” she asked, sounding worried. “Are you taking care of yourself?”
I closed my eyes for a second and gave her question some real thought. In all honesty, I hadn’t considered my mental health much during filming. Whenever I turned the camera on, my body went on autopilot. I don’t know how long it took me, but I created a wall whenever my interviewees shared their stories. As I gave them the floor, I turned off my emotion because it wasn’t about me.
In the editing process, I’m sure turning off my feelings would be harder. But that was a struggle for future me. A struggle I’d prep for when the time came.
“I am,” I said, and almost tricked myself into believing it. Even if I wasn’t taking care of myself now, I’d take care of myself eventually. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Yet I always will,” Mom said, but there was a bit of relief laced in her words. Out of the three of us children, I was the one who was best at putting on a convincing front.
“Now, about this new guy,” she continued.
“I’ll take baby steps. No weekend getaway until we’ve learned more about each other.”
She sighed, and I could practically hear her shoulders sagging. “That’s what I was hoping to hear. I think you’re on the right track, and I want you to stay on it.”
Even though there was still aching in me to say, screw caution, I’d stick to my word. Maybe I did need to be reeled in since I was falling head over heels. Dakota wouldn’t mind my cancellation. It was for the greater good. At least, that’s what I told myself.
“Baby steps,” I repeated, mostly to myself.
“You’ll thank yourself for it in the long run,” Mom promised.
