Page 100 of Arranged Control
“She’s my mother.”
“She’s fucking insane, and she’s going to kill people I care about if we don’t stop her.”
I drink my wine down. I know he’s right. I can’t even fathom why I’m starting to feel like I have to take her side on this. All I’ve wanted since this started was to catch and stop Molchanie. Now I’m trying to make excuses.
But it’s my mother. I’ve thought about what she might be like all my life. My father always refused to talk about her, except to say that I’ll never be as amazing as she was. He created this impossible standard, and in my head, my mother took on mythic proportions.
I dreamed about meeting her. I dreamed about having her in my life. Sometimes I’d picture her waiting for me downstairs to make us both breakfast. Sometimes we went on incredible adventures together. Always she was amazing and perfect, but also gentle and loving. Always she was so sorry she left, and I was willing to forgive her, so long as she never abandoned me again.
I wanted her so badly. I kept thinking, if only I could live up to her memory, maybe then my family wouldn’t treat me like old leftovers.
I’ve had a thousand different relationships with my mother in my heart since I was a little girl.
And now she’s back in my life.
Only she’s unhinged. I saw that clearly. There’s something deeply wrong with her, and it kills me, knowing my mother is finally here, but she’s not even close to the woman I created in my head.
“I have to talk to her again,” I say very softly. It’s like there’s a rope in my guts pulling me in this direction. “I have to do it.”
“Absolutely not.”
I grimace and grip my glass tighter. “She’s mymother.”
“She sent you the severed head of your ex-boyfriend in a box. I know this is hard, but that woman is insane.”
“She’s not going to hurt me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“We were talking when you came to the store. You scared her off.” I frown slightly. “You tried to shoot my mother.”
“To be fair, I didn’t know you two were related at the time.” He leans toward me and holds out a hand. I don’t take it. “I can only imagine how you’re feeling. She left when you were a baby but now she’s back, and you probably think you’re safe around her, just because she’s the one who gave birth to you. But that’s not your real mother, Alina.”
I stare at him, heart hammering. “How can you say that?”
“Sheabandonedyou. I’d never leave my family. Never, not for anything, and that includes you. That woman doesn’t get to be calledmotherby you.”
I have to walk away. I need space between us. I know what he’s saying makes sense, and he’s not saying it to be cruel.
But it hurts anyway.
“All this time, she’s been doing these things because of me. I think it’s got something to do with her marriage to my father and the reason for her leaving. She was talking about how dangerous it is to be married to a man like you?—”
“A man like what?” he asks, watching me carefully.
“In the life. You know what I mean.”
“Like your father? Because I’m nothing like him.”
“I know that. I didn’t say you were.”
“Then why are you trying to defend her?”
“I don’t know!” I throw up my hands. My temper flares, and I feel my control slipping. It’s late, and I’m so emotionally exhausted that I can’t really keep myself centered anymore. Every little thing sets me off. “I know you’re being reasonable right now. You probably think I’m being crazy, wanting to goanywhere near her again. But I just have this feeling I can get through to her.”
“No,” he says firmly, arms crossing over his chest. “No more risks.”
“You don’t get to give me commands.”
