“Oh no, Rebecca. I know we can find someone who will put up with your appearance. And look on the bright side. It’s not like your scars are genetic, so any babies you have will be normal. Unless, of course, you’re just as clumsy as you were as a child and you have another accident like you did then.”
“That sounds great. Let me know when you’ve found someone. I’ve got to go now, Mom. I’ll call you in a couple of days, okay?”
“Why don’t you just go ahead and come over tomorrow in the afternoon, around three? I’m sure I can find someone else for you to meet by then.”
“Sorry, Mom. I can’t. Remember? I’ve got a full day of family shoots planned for tomorrow. What about next week? Maybe Friday?”
I hear the frustrated breath she releases because I’ve dared to inconvenience her. Like going on dates arranged by my mother every weekend for the last two months hasn’t inconvenienced me?
“Fine Rebecca. I’ll call you with the details.”
“Sounds great. Talk to you then.”
I hang up without letting her get any more words in, poking at the end call button with as much force as I can muster. Some days, I really miss landline phones. Hanging up on my mother would be so much more satisfying if there were more of a physical component to it. Pushing an icon is not the same as slamming the handset down in the cradle.
Sometimes I wonder if having her in my life is worth all this. Every time we talk, I wind up feeling like complete shit. And now with this whole setup plan she has, I feel even worse. Seeing the types of guys she thinks I should settle for is doing terrible things to my self-esteem. But she is my only family, even if she doesn’t always act like it.
I miss Uncle Silas and Uncle Patrick . If they still lived here, at least I’d have someone telling me that my mother is full of shit. The way it is right now, all of her bullshit goes unchecked and burrows its way into my head. It’s like a parasite that feeds on any self-esteem it can find, leaving me with a head full of shit that looks and sounds exactly like the things my mother says to me.
Maybe I should call him? Not tonight, but soon I will.
Tonight, I’ll call Alex and tell her about yet another bullshit date. I know she’ll agree with me about the cell phone camera thing. She’ll share my outrage at his dismissal of my chosen career. Well, my second choice career, anyway. Fine art photography is harder to get into than I thought when I initially started out, but wedding photography pays the bills.
At least it did before Mrs. Carmichael had me blacklisted.
That bitch. I’m the one suffering because she didn’t read the contract. Maybe I should have just refunded her deposit? I wouldn’t be in the shit I’m in now if I had. But I couldn’t let her get her way like that. So my pride came before my fall. Typical. As soon as I start to feel like my life is going alright, something comes along to shit all over me.
