Being my mother's daughter

 I looked up from the hood of my car, feeling her gaze as heavy as the air that summer day.

“Are you just going to stand there?” I asked, speaking to the neatly packed contents of my trunk.

“I can’t believe you,” she finally said, as I slammed down the hood and swirled around to look at her. “I can’t believe I raised such a selfish, insolent child,” her eyes narrowed, her voice grew shrill. I could tell she was angry because she wasn’t even speaking in the low, even tones she used when she was ticked off, but didn’t want the neighbours to hear. Her bottom lip quivered, the shape a mirror of my own. I swallowed hard and stalked back to the front of my car.

“Bye, momma,” I said softly, opening the driver side door.

“Don’t Lily, please,” her voice was thick, her hand wrapped around my wrist. I finally met her gaze, eyes like a puppy’s- big and scared. “You don’t know what it’s like out there, you have no idea how people can be,” her eyes grow with every word, pulling me towards her. I swallow hard and shook my arm free.

“I’m sorry momma.”

-      - - - -

“So, I saw your mom last week.” I froze, putting the carton of orange juice down.

“And?” I asked slowly, looking at Abby’s face.

She shrugged lightly and gave me a small smile. “She misses you,” she replied, leaning forwards and picking up the glass half full of juice. “God, you have no idea how much I love this stuff,” she giggled, downing the glass in three easy gulps. She patted her round stomach fondly. “Hope he likes it too.”

“Did she say that?” I questioned, picking up another glass, my hand reaching for the carton but stopping midway. I didn’t even like orange juice.

Aby busied herself looking around the apartment. “So, this is what it’s like being a starving artist, huh?” She remarked. “I think I’ll pass.”

I frowned. “Don’t change the subject, what did she really say?”

Abi let out a deep sigh, that ended with a little head shake. “She said hi Abigail,” she started, leaning forwards, “she said, how far along are you? I said 20 weeks, she said come by for dinner sometime, I said sure, she asked how you were, I said fine, she said good.” She pushed her glass towards me. “Refill please.”

I wasn’t aware I had been holding my breath but the quivering pressure in my chest forces me to exhale as I grabbed Abi’s glass.

“You know, she hasn’t been here once,” I said, my voice sounding soft even to me, “hasn’t called, hasn’t written, I haven’t even gotten one tiny little post card.” I felt the glass tremble as I squeezed it tighter. “You know, it wouldn’t kill her to even just, like, oh, acknowledge I exist,” I snapped, setting the glass down. “Why the hell does she act like I’m some big disappointment, because I want a job and a future and a career, she acts like I’ve gotten,” I realized what I was about to say and quickly shut my mouth but Abi just grinned.

“Knocked up?” She laughed, cocking an eyebrow. “Sweetie, you did something worse.” She said gently, “you tried to live on your own, be something by yourself,” she took a breath and reached for my hand and pressed it gently in her own, “you have nothing to be ashamed of- you’re living your life by your own terms, and you don’t need to apologize to anyone, especially not her.”

As I stared into Abi’s deep, warm amber eyes- the same I sought guidance, love and friendship from my entire adolescent life, I felt a deep sense of inner calm.

“Besides, it’s not anyone could even fit in this shoebox apartment,” Abi continued, laughing gaily.

- - - - -

I fought through the crowd of students and faculty, all chattering excitedly, eyes aglow with the type of relief and thrill that only comes from commencement. I knew who I was looking for only by her pale hair, shimmering like a halo. The minute I saw her my face broke out into a cartoonish smile as we both screamed.

“Oh, my girl,” she cooed, wrapping her arms tightly around me, as I relished the feeling of her warmth, and suddenly flat belly. She pulled back to place her hands on either side of my face. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, and looking into her eyes I knew she meant it.

“What do you want to tell Aunt Lily?” Carl prompted the tiny enfant wrapped in his arms; my mouth opened in awe as he brought the baby closer to me. “Congratulations, aunt Lily,” Carl squeaked in baby-voice as I eagerly held my godson. I pressed him close to me, feeling his tiny baby heartbeat, gazing into his beautiful amber eyes.

“You are precious,” I whispered, kissing him on the nose as Abi wrapped an arm around me and smiled brightly as Carl snapped a photo.

“So, how’s it feel to be a big shot,” Abi asked later as we walk idly through the university grounds, savouring my last few moments being a graduate. “Working in New York, at a fancy journal, wearing Ann Taylor suits.” I giggled as we both thought of our old high school principal who had a penchant for pinstripe suits that were outrageously unflattering.

“It’s just a temp job,” I replied with a shrug, “no promises, no nothing really, and my apartment’s going to be even crappier than the one I have now,” I was prepared to ramble off the other endless list of things that would complicate my life in New York, but Abi squeezed my arm hard, and forced me to stop.

“Look,” she breathed, pointing up at the admissions building we wound up in front of. University of Albany was emblazoned on the stone above. “You did this,” she said firmly, “you came here, and you worked so hard, and now you’re going to New York,” she laughed and looked at me, with nothing but love in her eyes, “you show them all who you are.” I quickly covered my eyes with my hand, determined not to cry, but Abi pulled my hand away. “She’s proud of you too, you know.”

I want to believe her, to fall in love with the idea that my mom will be waiting in the car with Carl and the baby, ready to throw her arms around me and say congratulations. But the commencement invitation I sent a month ago was never answered, just like the streams of other cards and phone calls I had naively sent as well. My mom hadn’t visited me once my entire time in university, so why would she be here now.

-      - - - -

“I’m think I might actually miss this place,” I said, looking in surprise around at my apartment. With everything packed away in the truck outside, it suddenly seemed much larger, and bordered on passably attractive. With sweeping windows and rough brick, it carried the quintessential New York feeling I had fallen in love with so many years prior.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now,” Javier groaned, sneaking up behind me, his arms snaking around my waist.

“Because I don’t want to live in a big old house alone.”

I laughed and turned my head to kiss his cheek lightly, feeling his stubble underneath. “So many things can change in four years,” I remarked wistfully.

“People, too,” Javier said lightly, fingering the diamond on my ring finger. “Are you sure you don’t want to call her?”

When I first met Javier, I found comfort in the fact that he never pushed me about my turbulent family life and welcomed me wholeheartedly into his. In my opinion, between his warm, colourful parents and Abi, Carl and little Noah, I felt firmly covered in the family department. But Javier seemed to insist that I tell my mother about the wedding. I forgave the blitheness of his heart- he just didn’t know what my mother was like.

“I haven’t talked to her in eight years,” I replied, firmly, twisting out of his arms.

Javier let out a small sigh, his deep green eyes widening in a manner that pulled at my heart strings. “She did send you money when you moved here, right? She obviously still cares about you, even if she doesn’t know how to show it.”

The money he referred to was sent in an envelope from my mother’s address with eight thousand dollars inside- which had been all too necessary in paying my rent during my intern days. But despite my best attempts to send my thanks, my mother never said anything in return.

It was easy for Javier to tell me to just visit my mother and forget the past- he had never known anything other than loving, devoted parents. He couldn’t understand that my mother wasn’t the type of woman who said I love you or hugged me when I had nightmares. He never had to walk home four miles in the rain because no one was there to pick him up, or stand awkwardly at bake sales because his mom forgot to send something in.

Of course, he would tell me those were trivial things, that should be left in the past- but they were more than that to me. Each and every memory served as a reminder of the rift between my mother and I, that only grew with every passing year.

-      - - - -

She blinked in surprise when she saw me, and for a moment I feared her heart would stop again. But she only gazed at me for a second, before she went back to staring at the wall in front of her. If she hadn’t already been lying in a hospital bed, I fear I might have seriously injured her right then.

Eight years and all I had to show for it was a brief once-over in a dimly lit hospital room. By the third day of no communication, despite my best attempts to talk to her, my nerves had frayed to mere threads. I angrily crumpled the coffee cup in my hand and stood up from my vigil by her bedside- Abi and I had been taking alternate shifts monitoring her condition, although she was perfectly capable of making conversation with Abi.

Like the answer to my prayers, Javier walked through the door, and I couldn’t help from letting a stupid grin slide over my face.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, hugging me tightly as I got up. He kissed my forehead gently and gestured to my mother. “How’s she doing?”

I sat back down in my chair and ran a hand through my hair, noting from the greasy texture that I could use a shower.

“The doctors say she’s going to be okay,” I replied, “but she’ll need to take medicine from here on out, and plenty of rest.”

Javier crouched beside me, and gently squeezed my knee, “why don’t you go over to Abi’s and get some real food, and I’ll stay here with her.” I wanted that more than anything and as I nearly skip down the linoleum halls of the hospital, I thanked every god I could think of for sending me Javier.

When I got back later that night, I was surprised to hear my mother talking, and smiling, too, deep in conversation with Javier. It shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does- anyone is powerless against his magnetic smile and green eyes.

“There she is!” He said with a grin, noticing me in the doorway. I walked in awkwardly, taking in my mother’s new appearance. Her small frame was even more emancipated, bones jutting out at sharp angles. Her skin was stretched over her facial bones, lifeless and pale, but her eyes were still dark and alive with the same ferocity of her youth.

As Javier and I traded places I couldn’t help but remark. “Near death experiences usually bring people together.”

My mother didn’t respond, or even acknowledge my snide comment. She turned away to look at the wall, and then, in a voice so quiet, she could have been whispering she said. “He’s handsome, isn’t he.” I almost choked on my tongue- I couldn’t believe she had replied.

“He is,” I said softly, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice, “he doesn’t let it get to his head, either.”

She laughed at this- a shallow, light sound that died as soon as it came alive. A lump rose and began to swell in my throat.

“Why did you never call me?” I asked, my voice beginning to rise. My mother didn’t say anything. “Look at me,” I rasped. “LOOK AT ME,” the scream tore out of my throat like a dragon, releasing its fiery breath over her frail body. As her watery gaze met my own my words took on a force of their own, tumbling out one after the other. “I called you, wrote you, and you never even bothered to reply- you have never been there,” I spat in fury, “my whole life, I have felt like a burden to you, and I deserve to know why,” I took a quivering break, “why did you never love me.”

Her mouth opened and she closed her eyes and grimaced. My breath finally calmed down, although the beating of my pulse still rung loudly in my ears. When she finally spoke again, I strained to hear her.

“When you were born, I hoped you were a boy,” she began, “not because I wanted one, but because I thought it would be easier, for you,” she looked at me, “and when I saw you I prayed to god that you wouldn’t turn out like me, that I could protect you from the world.” She breathed out, and her entire body seemed to shrink. “I did a terrible job, I wasn’t meant to be a mother, though that’s not any excuse.” She reached out and without thinking I placed my hand in hers, rough and papery skin, layered over her firm grip.

“The day you left for the city, I felt like I was seeing myself all over again, about to make the same mistakes,” her grip on my hand tightened with every word, “and it broke my heart, because I failed- I failed to protect you from everything.” I opened my mouth, but she shook her head and continued. “But I was wrong, Lily,” her voice was tinged with sadness. “You’re much stronger, and braver, than I ever was, and you made your dreams come alive, despite everything I did to hold you back.”

I noticed the sudden wetness of the tears sliding down my cheek, the taste of salt tracing over my lips.

“I’m sorry,” The apology I have craved for twenty-six years is finally spoken into existence, but I don’t even care- because I’d been holding my mom’s hand longer that past few minutes than I had my entire life.

-      - - - -

I waved at the two of them, playing in the middle of the garden. Bella looked like an angel, sitting in her arms, with her soft fuzz of dark hair and bright eyes; my mother looked healthier than she had ever been, her rosy glow returned by the countryside air.

At first, she had resisted moving out here, but Javier had held firm. And when Bella arrived, I had been grateful for her presence- when Javier left town for business it was nice to not be alone. In turn, she had surprised me with the way she looked after Bella- with a foreign tenderness and love that I was thankful for.

Every time she hugged my daughter, or planted a kiss on her forehead, I felt a twinge of jealously for the affection I had never received- but it had quickly receded to love. Because my mother did love me, even if she never put it into words- and as she held Bella, I was reminded of the capacity for change she held within her, and the hope it gave me for the relationship between us.