Her tiny fingers, so like mine, laced between
Daddy’s as dinner proceeded. Glancing over at me, she flashed me a smile and in
an instant, I was a little child again, basking in the light she gave out.
I
have always loved her smile. Its radiance soothed away any worry plaguing my
mind, even now as a woman, who was more, at least I hoped, than capable of
handling the real boogey men of adulthood. But it always offered me extra
courage and this occasion was not different.
It seemed like a good time. Both my
parents were in a pleasant mood, laughter flowed easily between conversations.
There probably wouldn’t be a better chance to share the news that I’ve been
sitting on for the past week. Focusing on their smiles, I told them.
The
words barely left my mouth when I sensed the shift. Daddy’s grin slacked a
little as he listened, but he tried to upkeep the façade of being happy to hear
it. Mama, on the other hand, showed her disdain immediately. Her other small hand
clutched the wine glass and I realized then, no matter what, there will never
be a right moment to share with them, especially her.
As
soon as I finished, Mama downed the remaining wine in her glass and said, “You
have got to be kidding.”
Rolling
my eyes, my assumptions were confirmed.
Daddy
squeezed her hand and tried to quiet her but she brushed him away, asking me,
“This has to be some kind of joke?”
A
laugh escaped my lips and she looked hopeful, her manicured nails stringing
through her pearl necklace. My eyes narrowed and I repeated what I said, ending
with, “I’m serious, Mama.”
She
slammed her wine glass onto the dining table and jumped out of her seat. Her
heels clicked against the floor as she paced the room, yelling, “Gina, we did
not give you everything in order for you to settle just for anything. Where is
your head, child?”
I
leaned back into my seat, folding my arms across my chest, as her criticisms continued.
Daddy’s voice peeped over Mama’s once in a while, but he clearly shared her
sentiments, only in a nicer, softer tone.
Five
minutes later, Mama, calming down, took the glass full of wine offered and
sipped half its content. She looked down at me and said quietly, “Now finish up
your dinner and we’ll talk about this some more later.”
Shaking
my head, I mumbled, “I’m not hungry anymore.” I gathered my plate and went into
the kitchen with Mama tailing behind.
“Don’t
be foolish, Gina. You hardly touched the food,” she said as I dumped it into
the trash.
“Oh Mama, I couldn’t manage
another bite after the bullshit you and Daddy fed me out there.” The plate
clattered into the sink.
Her eyes narrowed and she said, “Watch
how you talk to me, young lady.”
“No, you watch how you talk to
me. I am an adult who doesn’t need either of you questioning my every move like
that. The way you and Daddy reacted, it seemed as if I proposed committing
murder.”
She gulped the rest of the wine
and slurred, “Well excuse me for being concerned with your life. Because you
pay your own bills, does not negate the fact that you are my baby. I was born
to worry about you.”
“Mama, there isn’t anything to
worry about. I’m happy. I hoped you both would feel the same.”
We both stood on opposite sides
of the counter, glaring at one another.
“I needed your support tonight,
not your condemnation.”
“Darling, I refuse to pretend
that this is what you had envisioned for yourself,” she whispered, her eyes
softening.
“Are you angry because my life
isn’t what you dreamed it to be?” I snapped.
Her eyes flashed and she brought
the wine glass to her lips again. Realizing it was empty, she set it onto the
counter and crossed her arms.
“I understand where you are
coming from because I have been there before.”
Shaking my head like a petulant
child, I said, “You have no idea how hard it is, Mama. I am doing the best I
can.”
“You are lying,” she said simply.
“These days aren’t like those you
grew up in. I’m doing better than most people out there. Can’t you see that?”
She walked over to me and took my
hands into hers. Looking into my eyes, she said quietly, “I do not care for
those other people, sweetie. I raised you, therefore you are my only concern
and I do not think you are all that you can be.”
I shook her off and tried to walk
away, hating that she couldn’t sympathize. But she grabbed my arm, forcing me
to stay, to listen to the rest of the crap she had to say.
“Mama, you’re hurting me.”
She ignored my plea, saying, “All
we ever wanted was what you wanted. We wanted you to achieve your dreams, your
vision. Can you continue lying to my face and say you are one step closer in
completing the goals you had set for yourself five, ten years ago?”
Her words hurt me and she could tell
that they hit. She pulled me into a hug, but I resisted. She let go, looking
sad.
Brushing my hair out of my face, she
whispered, “I’m not always going to be here to remind you, Gina.” Her thumb
rubbed against my cheek, wiping away a tear.
“But it looks like you remember those
plans well enough.” With a kiss, she left me alone in the kitchen.
Her heels resonated as she walked
through the house, looking for Daddy. I heard her call out to him, asking for
another drink.
Usually when she gave me
unsolicited advice, once her back turned, I would brush it off and roll my
eyes. Now, tears fell from them as the realization sunk in: she is so right.
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