Its Deeper Than That

“It’s always never that serious to you, is it?” Jennifer had been dreading this conversation but had hoped she’d be wrong about it. The peace she’d promised herself to maintain throughout this discussion with her mother seemed to already be waning. 

Jennifer sat across from her mother, a middle-aged woman, smartly dressed in a white jumpsuit with a plunging neckline, her graying hair pulled back into a loose bun on top of her head. What separated them were two bowls of salad, two glasses of red wine, and a decorative candle, its flame flickering slightly. “What’s the matter? You wanted to hear my opinion about this, and now you’re getting all emotional? C’mon! Be adult about it!” her mother scoffed. “If you truly were to ask me, I really don’t think he loves you. You proposed to him? Please! I’d say, that’s a man’s job! Stop being so desperate.” Her mother glanced up at her, fork half-raised to her mouth. “You do agree you are being desperate, yes?” she questioned, eyebrows raised.

Suddenly, the mouthful of food felt like a load of sludge in Jennifer’s mouth. It wasn’t going down with the wine or the water. Everything smelt and tasted nauseating. Why couldn’t she just be happy for me? Why did she have to nit-pick every single thing? Why did she have to make her second-guess someone whom only she knows better, of the two? Jennifer’s mind was spinning. It’s my decision!

After a few moments of silence, Jennifer took a deep breath in. She swallowed her mouthful of food and placed her fork down. “Mom, I love him. I didn’t date him blindly,” she started. “Whether you like him or not is immaterial. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve chosen him to be my partner and that’s that. All through my life I’ve never once begged for your support… in anything. This time, I’m asking you to be the maternal figure you were supposed to have been from the very beginning and accept that your daughter is getting married to the man of her choice. Can’t you at least pretend to be happy for me?” Jennifer felt her chest closing up and tears welling in her eyes, threatening to spill over. No! I will not let her see me cry. Not now, not like this. 

Something she said seemed to have hit a nerve, because her mother paused mid-sip of her wine, and stared at her daughter, as if she had said something irredeemable. Her face held a stone-cold expression, and the air felt icy thin. She set her glass down and leaned forward, arms crossed on the table. “II am just looking out for you. You want me to agree blindly to everything you say? You’ve been with him 3 years, and not once did he bring up the topic of marriage with you until you took the initiative to. To top that off, you went on to propose to him instead of him to you. Does none of this ring alarm bells?” She put the wine glass back down and picked up her fork. “Do what feels right to you. You have my blessings, but I have my reservations. You have to give me that, at the very least, Jennifer.” 

The restaurant had seemed warm and inviting at first. An orange glow illuminating every corner of space, the smell of bakery treats wafting through the air on one side, while the aroma of rich, homey meals filling the other corner. Jennifer had picked this place to discuss this important matter with her mother because it reminded her of one of the few happy memories she shared with her - a trip to a family-run restaurant when she was a child. It had been a thoroughly memorable day for young Jennifer, because for a few short hours, her mother had had a meal with her and her 2 other siblings without shouting at them for whatever reason. She had genuinely been happy. That meal she had, it was simple. Spaghetti bolognese with meatballs and a big cup of ice-cold lemonade. The waiter and restaurant staff had been so nice to her too. They had given her sweets and even a big slice of chocolate cake - on the house! For some reason, this place she’d picked reminded her of that fond memory. It was like an intangible safe space in her mind. 

Apart from a handful of such carefree recollections, most of her childhood memories were peppered with not-so-happy moments. Throughout the years, Jennifer continued to be affected by her mother’s personality. Her father had left very early on, so coming from a single parent family, she had no choice but to soldier through the challenges, one after another. Now an adult, Jennifer had hoped for some change. Though their relationship hadn’t been the greatest, Jennifer had been trying her best to reach out to her mother and mend their tattered relationship. She had always envisioned a better adult relationship with her mother once she got older. She was envious of her peers who had stable mother-daughter relations. Now, she thought, that desire of hers seemed to be slipping away faster than she was able to grasp on to it. 

Jabbing her fork into her salad, Jennifer managed a final couple of sentences. “Why can’t you trust my judgment? I’ve gotten by all this while without much really, and I turned out fine. Abel may not be perfect. No one is. But he has shown me, more than anything, that he wants to be a part of my life. I wish you could see that before jumping to conclusions about him.” Drinking her last sip of wine, Jennifer reached for her bag. “I’ve already paid. I don’t have anything more to say to you mum. See you… when I see you.” Nothing’s changed, yet the hurt is all too familiar. Also, I’m never coming back here again. Before her mother could respond, Jennifer hurried out of the bustling restaurant, and disappeared into the evening crowd of downtown.