“I’m not allowed to call and speak with my daughter?”
She wanted to roll her eyes over that statement. It’s not like her mother ever wanted to be that close to her when she was younger, spending too much time dealing with her father. Then not sticking up for Molly when she was getting ridiculed. Tore down.
Said that she needed to change her looks, try to play some sports, get some more friends. Or more popular friends like Erika or Matt.
She couldn’t help who she was and hated that she wasn’t accepted for it.
Sad that outside of Erika, the only other person who truly accepted her was her half sister, Ruby. The one person who could resent her after finding out that Ruby grew up in foster care because their father never even told them he had another child, let alone supported Ruby.
“It’s not against the law,” she said, going back to work while half listening to her mother. Already she knew this was going to turn into a lecture of some sort and there was no reason to really pay attention since she’d heard some version of it many times in her life already.
“How is work going?”
“Fine,” she replied as she read an email.
“Have you invented anything yet?”
“I don’t invent things, Mom.” How many times had she explained her job to her mother in the past? More times than she cared to remember or would do again.
“It’s all the same thing to me. You play with food. You should have just gone to be a chef.”
“Though I enjoy cooking, it’s not the same thing.”
“Are you working or listening to me?” her mother asked.
She resisted grinding her teeth. Barely.
“I am at work. I can do two things at once.”
Her mother snorted. “I’d like to have lunch or dinner with you sometime.”
“Are you lonely?”
“I am. Matt and Erika have their families.”
Which meant she was the last choice. As always.
When her father died, and Tessa Clarke was left alone, she changed her tune. She wanted a better relationship with her youngest child. Sorry, it was too late. Especially when the judgment and critical words were still present.
But Molly didn’t have it in her to just walk away from her mother either.
Instead, she just had to put up with these calls.
“I’ve got a lot of deadlines and have been working late and on the weekends,” she said.
“Surely you get some time off to have dinner,” her mother argued. “It’s not like you go out with friends or on a date.”
Those little jabs from her youth just always slipped in there.
“I went on a date last night,” she boasted before she could think better of opening that can of worms.
“Oh,” her mother said, sounding surprised. “And how did it go?”
“It could have been better,” she said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting to go to in a few minutes and need to get ready.”
“Fine. But let me know when we can get dinner. If I don’t hear from you in a week, I’ll try again.”
“Sure,” she said. Anything to end this call.
