Let Me

Emily Choi, I know you’ve been ignoring my calls and I’m not going to stop until you call me back. You know you can’t avoid me forever. I will personally stand outside your apartment until you answer me if you don’t call me back right now.

As I begrudgingly drag myself across the cold and miserable road, the sky has turned pitch black. Tiny droplets of rain have started falling, almost like a warning of the doom ahead. It will be pouring pretty soon and still, I would rather be dripping wet with my hair all messed up, than meet the devil in that cosy, warm diner.

Taking a deep breath, I yank the door open. The wood creaks as it brushes past the black and white tiled floor. Immediately, a strong wave of bitter coffee rushes towards me. Pulling my soggy hood off my head, I quickly scan the place. For a Friday afternoon, this looks more like a Wednesday 11am. There is a couple sitting by the window being all lovey-dovey, holding both hands on top of the table, their bodies are leaning so forward that their foreheads are basically touching each other. Ew. Get a room.

The only other customer is at the back of the shop. Far, far away from the exit. No doubt a tactic to keep me from a quick escape. A cup of untouched coffee sitting in front of her. I mean, you can tell she’s the devil because who wastes a cup of good coffee like this?

Shaking my head, I approach her. A tight-lipped smile automatically appearing on my face.

“Hey ma.”

She glances up at me and nods towards the seat opposite of hers. Boy isn’t someone excited to see me.

I take off my wet jacket and sit across from her. Picking up the menu, I hold it in front of my face so she can’t see me rolling my eyes. From my peripheral vision, I see Addison walking over. Already knowing exactly what I’m going to order, I scan the menu over just to see if something new has magically appeared. Nope. Same old, same old. Let’s be honest, I’m just avoiding looking at the wrinkly face that will one day be mine. Maybe I’ll just die young so I’ll forever look youthful. People in movies always look the age they die when they are in the so called afterlife. I would prefer looking pretty for the rest of my non-existence.

“What can I get you today?” Addison asks, holding a notebook and pen like she doesn’t already know. I order my usual and slowly set the menu on the side of the table. Trying to delay the hell she’s about to bring upon me.

I put my hands on my laps as I wait for her to say something. God, this silence is killing me. Is she trying to give me to leave? Because I will, in a heartbeat. I’m not the one, begging on the phone, asking the other person to meet her here. I didn’t want to come.

“Emily.”

Oh here we go. What’s she going for first? Maybe the fact that I didn’t bring my umbrella, which is just such an uncivilized thing to do because now my whole outfit is going to be ruined and I’ll give the family a bad rep. And by family, she means herself. Because someone here is definitely going to report back to her boss and say what a disgrace her daughter is just because she forgot her umbrella and her outfit is just so slightly damp from the rain that is now splattering outside.

“I don’t like you living in this, horrible neighbourhood,” she starts, “Have you seen the people here? Have you seen their old clothes and all those broken houses? They are going to rob you.”

“Ma, we’ve been over this.”

She goes on, ignoring me, classic, “Now, you listen to me. I looked at the apartments in the city last week. You know the ones I sent you? I found them near where you work. I want you to come with me and look at them tomorrow. And if you can’t pay for it, you can live with me for now.”

Oh joy. I moved out here, away from the city, away from the noise, away from her, just so she can come all the way out here and complain about my life and what a disappointment I am. This is exactly what she’s like; she takes anything good, anything I’m proud of and twist it to become some sort of failure. And now she’s trying to trap me in her house so I can never leave.  

“My driver can drive us both to my apartment tonight so you don’t have to drive 40 minutes to the city tomorrow morning. I’ve already talked to the agent and he’s agreed to give you a  10% discount because of our previous work relationship—”

“Ma,” I finally say. The 12-year-old me is telling me to look down and avoid any eye contact whatsoever but my brain is calling me a pussy because I’m a grown ass woman, so I gotta listen to the brain.

“Listen ma,” I say, trying to calm her down, “With all due respect, I don’t want to stay at your place tonight, okay? I can just... drive there tomorrow morning.”

“What have I always taught you? You do not use that attitude with your mother. And especially in this public place. Do you know how humiliating that is for me? To let people think I’ve raised such a rude daughter. You should be ashamed of yourself...”

And here comes the talk about how I should be respectful to elders because they are older than me. I know, I know. I only need to respect those who respect me, but this is my mom. And there’s always this little part of me that still wants to trust her and believe that she’s right. And maybe I shouldn’t have snapped at her because I know, deep in her heart, she’s trying to do what she thinks is best for me. But moving away from this town is not going to be what’s best for me. I’m trying to get her to see that, but how will she if she doesn’t let me talk?

“...Emily? Emily!”

Oh fuck, what the fuck was she talking about, “Yes ma?”

“Were you listening to me?”

No I wasn’t.

“Yes.”

“No you weren’t.”

If you already knew the answer, why did you ask, woman? I attempt to give her a slight smile but she just go on staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.

For a moment, I thought she has given up and I can finally go home and take a well-deserved bath, but then she continues, “I was saying, I let you move last year, and you betray me by moving here. In the middle of nowhere with all these strange people. Now I’ve had enough of this nonsense, so you will come with me tonight.”

Oh my goodness, you asked once, I said no. Asking me, or more like, demanding a second time is not going to make me say yes.

“No ma, I won’t come with you tonight. Because I don’t want to.”

“Come on Emily, you’re not five.”

“No, ma, I’m not five. I’m twenty-five. I’m an adult and I can think for myself. And still, you never let me finish telling you what I think. You don’t care about what I think, you don’t care about my feelings. You never let me do anything!”

“Don’t say I didn’t let you do anything. I let you go to university, I let you study that useless journalism degree. I let you move away. And now look at you, in this disgusting town. I told you to study medicine. You could’ve had a good life and you just threw it all away. And now look at you.”

Are we seriously bringing up the medicine thing again? We’ve been over this like ten thousand times. Just get the fuck over it. Every time, I put one tiny foot out of the box, she brings it up all over again. No, I didn’t want to study medicine, and I still don’t. And I know for a fact if I did, I wouldn’t have a good life.

“I have a good life. Here and at my job that I really enjoy. And I don’t like how you just barge in and assume the worst of me every single time. When I was living with you, I couldn’t do anything normal that all my friends could do. I couldn’t even go to their house, I couldn’t go to the movies, I couldn’t even have a boyfriend because you didn’t let me. You were squeezing me to death!”

“Oh was that what I did? I ensured you had a great future ahead of you, and you chose to throw it away.”

“No, I didn’t have a great future ahead of me because it didn’t feel great. It’s what you wanted. You’re always controlling everyone,” under my breath, I mumbled, “No wonder dad divorced you.”

Her face turned so pale; I swear she is going to faint. Shit, that is mean. But it feels so fucking good to say that after holding it in for 15 years. It’s the truth anyways. I didn’t see him until I turned 21 because she didn’t let me.

“Do not speak of something you know nothing of,” she snarled at me and slammed her hand on the table.

Oh, I’ve angered the devil. I don’t remember the last time she lashed out in public like this. Taking out my phone and recording this whole thing feels really tempting right now. It would be such a good source of entertainment for later.

“You know what mom. You know nothing about me, so don’t speak of something you know nothing of.”