Page 90 of Just the Tipsy
I take a deep breath, then let it out. I’ve been thinking of ways to explain myself this whole time, but now that I have to tell her, the words aren’t flowing. Thankfully a waiter comes to take our orders. I just get what Mom gets so I don’t have to think.
When the waiter leaves, Mom looks at me expectantly.
“I just…” I rake a hand through my hair. “The pressure, Mom.”
“What pressure?” She sips her water, looking genuinely confused. Despite my relief, I feel a tinge of irritation too. How does she not know?
“The pressure you put on me to be everything.” I sit back in my seat. “When I was a kid, it was about grades and getting into the best schools, which helped me. But now the pressure to be involved in everything in town even though I’ve said no. And thepressure to settle down with the perfect person…it’s a lot. It feels like the goal post always moves.”
Mom frowns, taken aback.
“I just…” Mom is at a loss for words for once. “I had no idea. I just assumed because you did a lot in the past that you’d want that kind of life.”
“I don’t. I’d like to be involved in the board, but in my own way. And I’d like to not run myself ragged like I did when I was younger. I want to enjoy some down time instead of always chasing success, as good as it feels.”
Mom studies my face, like she’s trying to understand me –reallyunderstand me -- for the first time.
“My pressure on you to date is what led you to put together this plan with Bianca?” Mom finally asks.
I nod. “It was all me. Bianca had her own reasons for this, but it wasn’t her idea. Don’t put any blame on her.”
“I wasn’t going to.” Mom looks down at her hands for a moment. “But I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I made a lot of assumptions, and they hurt you. I just know that you’re so helpful and kind and I just wanted you to share that. In the way I saw fit rather than how you’d naturally do it, I’m now seeing.”
The apology soothes the raw part of me that’s been getting worse and worse for years. Now Mom sees – actually sees. I doubt everything will magically change overnight, but it’s a step in the right direction.
“But Bianca was a sweet girl and seemed good for you, so at least something positive came from this. And she very much liked you.” A tinge of disappointment colors her last sentence. This time, I accept it. “It looked like you liked her too.”
“I do. But I let my past problems get in the way of letting myself be with her.” I swallow.
‘Because of Catherine?”
I nod. Lady wedges herself between me and Mom, putting her head on my leg. Her warmth is comforting.
“I don’t know how to fix it. Iwantto fix it. But now she’s going to New York,” I say.
“It’s easier to stay in touch with people than ever,” Mom points out. “You could do long distance and figure something out. If it’s meant to be, it’ll work out.”
That sounds surprisingly romantic coming from Mom. Her relationship with my dad seems to be based on him finding her beautiful and her liking that he mostly leaves her be to do whatever stuff she likes to do. Plus, money.
“I’m not sure what to text her.” I rest my hand on Lady’s head.
“Texts? Oh, honey.” Mom sighs. “You can’t make a declaration of love over text. What is this young people nonsense?”
“Then what should I do? How do I actually get through to her and fix this?” I don’t want to be like her ex and constantly bother her.
Mom drums her nails on the table. “I don’t know her the way you do, so I don’t know. But what would be meaningful to her?”
The waiter returns with our food and quickly leaves us.
“A lot of things,” I say, taking a fry off my plate “But knowing which meaningful thing to do is the hard part.”
“I know you’ll figure it out, hun.” Mom unfolds the napkin in her lap. “I have a good feeling about you two.”
That’s the other side of my mom that I appreciate the most. She’ll always support me with everything she has. I’ll need all the support I can get.
THIRTY-ONE
BIANCA
