Page 4 of All for You

I wring my hands. “I don’t know if I can. Every time I try, I freeze up.”

The memory of past confrontations flash through my mind—how my voice would shake, my hands would sweat, and my carefully planned arguments would crumble in the face of her disapproval. It’s like being a child again, desperate for validation and afraid of disappointing someone who’s supposed to love me unconditionally.

“Then practice. Right here, right now.” She pushes her shoulders back. “Pretend I’m your mom.”

I retreat, my gaze snapping through the opening into the diner, where Daisy dashes from one table to the next. “Sheila, I don’t think?—”

She tightens her posture and puts on a haughty expression. “Rachel, darling. When are you going to find a man and settle down?”

My ears burn as I choke on laughter at her attempt to sound like Mom—who she seems to think is British. “I... um... well...”

This is silly.

Sheila taps her foot impatiently. “Come on, Rachel. Give it to me.”

Fine. I square my shoulders. “Mom, I...” Swallowing, I start again. “I’m happy with my life the way it is and where it is.” But am I? Happy? Or am I settling, too afraid to reach for something more?

Sheila rolls her eyes. “Try again.”

Grinding my back molars and clenching my fists, I start over, slower this time. “Mom, my life is none of your business.”

“Better. Now hit me with the big guns.”

Taking a deep breath, I blow it out as I place a damp palm on my forehead and close my eyes, picturing the woman who’s popping in from across the country for a visit in a matter of hours. “Mom, I’m sick of your constant criticism. I like my job, I like my life, and if you can’t accept that, then maybe you shouldn’t come to Cupid’s Creek at all.”

The words burst out of me like a dam breaking. For a moment, I feel powerful and in control. Can I really say those things? Do I even mean them? No matter how she makes me think, she’s still my mom.

Sheila pumps her fist in the air. “Now we’re talking. That’s the Rachel I knew was in there.”

I exhale slowly.

It’s a glimpse of who I could be if I can only find the courage to embrace it. It’s one thing to play-act in the safety of the back of the diner with my friend, but facing mom in reality? That’s a whole different ballgame. Her disapproval has always felt like a physical force, crushing my spirit and reshaping me into the daughter she wants—one that isn’t a waitress struggling to make ends meet in a small town far from her home.

“See? You’ve got it in you. You just gotta let it out.”

“Yeah but saying it to you is one thing. Saying it to her?—”

“Is exactly the same. She’s just a person, Rachel. Not some all-powerful being.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t grow up with her.”

“True. But I’ve dealt with my fair share of judgmental assholes.”

I tilt my head and glance at my friend. “How do you do it? How do you just... not care what people think?”

Sheila shrugs. “Who says I don’t care? I just decided my opinion of myself matters more.”

“I wish I could do that.”

She steps up to me, grips my shoulders and stares into my eyes. “You can. It’s a choice you have to make every damn day.”

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

She lets me go and retreats. “Bullshit. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

My jaw drops. “Me? Strong?”

“Hell yeah. You’ve been through some serious shit, and you’re still standing.”

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