“Yes?”
“Fern.” There was rustling, and Mom cleared her throat. “You said something to me when we last talked. You said you didn’t know if I was jealous of you or if I hated you.”
Stunned, Fern moved to pick up her own drink but only wound up lifting and setting it down a few times over. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know, Mom.”
“But I think you were right.”
“What?”
“I think I’m jealous.”
Blinking, she could only force out a bewildered, “Really?”
Her mom had started from nothing. Orphaned young, pregnant in her early twenties by a deadbeat who disappeared before the birth, she’d made it work. She’d moved near her sister, earned her associate’s before Fern turned two, got a job that paid for her to get a bachelor's when Fern was five. By the time Fern turned eight, Mom had her master’s and a six-figure salary. Fern was supposed to follow in her mom’s footsteps—she thought.
“I was too caught up in my own path, the one I wanted you on too. Inever stopped to realize you’re already successful in your way.”
Lips pulled tight between her teeth, Fern wanted to say something, but couldn’t, for fear of bursting into tears.
“I love you, and I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I rode you for so many years. I was unfair and expected you to take after me. I think I was afraid you’d make the same mistakes I did, and I hoped, if you copied my good decisions, you’d be happy in the end. You know? I assumed you’d be like me, and I’m sorry.”
Fern swallowed.
“I don’t blame you for the direction my life went, for your father being a dick, for the work I had to put in. Or I’ve never faulted you on purpose. But you’re saying I have, and I believe you. I want you to be happy and healthy and comfortable, that’s all.”
“Mom,” her voice cracked. “Thank you. Did you get a therapist or something?”
“Is it obvious?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You’re my daughter, and I don’t need to feel jealous of you. I need to feel proud. Iamproud. And if I’m jealous of anything, it’s that you didn’t make the mistakes I made. Maybe mistakes is the wrong word, I just—”
“Mom, it’s fine. If you hadn’t done everythingyoudid to make my childhood what it was, I don’t think I’d be where I am. I wish I’d talked to you about changing degrees all those years ago, wish I felt comfortable doing it.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I think I would have left school anyway, and that’s not a poor reflection on you. If anything, it’s because you taught me it’s okay to zoom out my worldview, take a look at the places I could end up, and go for it. Because of you, I know I’ll make it to the end of whatever path I take.”
Her mom sniffled, thenhonkedas she blew her nose.
“I have some good news, too,” Fern offered. “Things I think you’ll be proud of.”
“You don’t have to try to make me proud. That’s my point. You alreadyhave.”
“I know. But I’m excited about this stuff. I want to tell you.”
“Share away.”
“Rosalind’s going to sell me the salon for a dollar.”
“You’ll be a business owner?” The excitement in Mom’s voice was palpable, but Fern only smiled. Old dogs, and all that jazz.
“I will. And I’m dating someone.”
