“My time is valuable, and when I have to waste it leaving you voicemails that go unanswered, it displeases me.”
Right, because talking to your daughter isnevera valuable use of time.
“Don’t think it went unnoticed that you and that man you were with disappeared long before it was appropriate to leave. Your poor cousin was mortified when she had to field questions about your disappearance.”
Now she’s gone too far with this self-absorbed victimization. “Mom, be real. No one at that wedding gave a shit if I was there or not, except for Nana.”
I regret the sharp words the instant I say them. My mother’s lips thin with anger and her fingers start to drum on her arm.
“When are you going to grow up, Lilian, and stop assuming the world revolves around you and your childish ways. The wedding was a very important day for your cousin and our family, and your lack of maturity and inability to put your own feelings aside for once cast a dark shadow on it all.”
I bite back the snort of derision. There’s so much wrong with what she’s saying. So many lies. And yet, the little girl inside of me, the tiny part of me that is still desperate to feel something other than contempt from my parents, wilts even further.
“Your grandmother must be getting senile with her inability to see what a disappointment you are. Why can’t you be more like Marnie and live up to your potential? Or at the very least, contribute to this family in a meaningful way. It’s no wonder Clay moved on to your cousin. What could he possibly want from you? You’re a disgrace.”
Turning on her heel, the woman who gave birth to me, who by all rights should love me unconditionally above all else, walks away. If she saw the tears that I couldn’t stop from streaming down my face, she certainly didn’t show it.
I brush them away angrily before getting back in my car. Thank fuck no one walked past us and witnessed my humiliation. There’s been other occasions when I haven’t been so lucky.
“Fuck you!” I sob, smacking my hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck all of you.”
I sniff back any more tears. Because I realized a long time ago that my family doesn’t deserve the energy it takes for me to feel like this.
If I wasn’t so attached to this town, to my friends and my work, I would leave. I would move to the opposite end of the earth to get away from the people I fervently wish I was not related to.
Rolling my neck from side to side, I turn on my car and drive home. It’s taken a lot of years of therapy to get to a point where I can convincingly tell myself that my mother is wrong. That I am not a failure, that I do provide value to the world. My energy, and refusal to conform, is not a bad thing.
I repeat that mantra over and over until I pull into my driveway. When my phone chimes with a calendar alert, my gut instinct is to sayfuck itto whatever I had planned and just curl up on the couch with a pint of ice cream and a cheesy movie. But then I remember what it is.
Nana invited Jude and me over to her apartment for afternoon tea. Somehow, when I decided to go to yoga, I forgot entirely about this. Which means I now have less than five minutes to change and get back in my car to pick up Jude.
Inside, I toss my yoga wear on the floor and grab a sweater dress. A pair of socks and ankle booties and some gold earrings that are a bit tame for my taste, but were a gift from Nana, complete the look. I’m out the door again in four minutes.
By the time I get to Jude’s house, I’ve mostly moved on from the conversation with my mother — if you can call a mostly one-sided criticism a conversation. Okay, maybemoved onis the wrong sentiment. I’ve compartmentalized. Buried it in the box in the back of my head with the thousand other sharp knives she digs into my heart any time she sees me.
Jude’s waiting outside, and just the sight of him makes me sigh with…well, with a lot of things.
Need. Want. Desire. Affection. Sadness.
Most of those make sense. After all, the man is a god in bed, even with one leg out of action. Who knows how many orgasms he’d give me at full capacity. I shiver just thinking about it.
But the sadness is the one that has me squirming in my seat as he walks to the car. I’m getting hot sex from a guy with no expectations or strings. Why am I sad?
Oh. Right. Because a foolish part of me wishes there was a chance of him having real feelings for me beyond friendship and mutual sexual satisfaction.
But my dating history has made it abundantly clear that’s not even remotely possible.
He slowly lowers himself into my car and the therapist in me sees the slight grimace cross his features. “What did you do?”
Jude’s lips tighten at my question. “Nothing.”
“Liar.” I pick up my phone and wave it at him. “Do I need to text your brothers and ask what stupidity you all got up to?”
“No,” he grumbles under his breath before running his hands over his short beard. “I might have been trying out the gym facilities at the new arena in Westport.”
I gasp in only partly mock outrage. “Jude! Are you trying to ruin all the progress we’ve made? What did I tell you about working out?” I slap at his bicep, but it’s hard as a rock, so my hand just bounces off.
The sheepish look I get in return tells me he knows he screwed up. “I know. But I was there for another meeting, and the assistant coach and I were talking, and then I just…” His voice trails off, leaving me to fill in the blanks.
