Page 159 of Pucking Matt
“Of course, I want to see you happy,” she says, but her tone suggests there's a 'but' coming.
“Then this conversation's over.” I turn to walk away, desperate to escape this suffocating interaction.
“Matthew Scott Pearson, do not walk away from me.”
I halt, my heart racing and my palms sweating. Her use of my full name still has the power to stop me in my tracks.
“I am not finished,” she says, her voice low and dangerous.
I roll my eyes, beyond caring about hiding my frustration. “Clearly.”
She takes a step closer, her perfume overwhelming my senses. “I want to see you happy but not at the cost of your future.”
The weight of her words hangs between us, heavy with implications and unspoken expectations. I'm torn between the urge to defend Amber and the lifetime of conditioning that makes me want to please my mother. But as I stand there, surrounded by the opulent lobby and my mother's disapproval, I realize that for once, I need to choose my own happiness. My mom's words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. I shake my head, trying to clear the fog of frustration and disbelief.
“That girl has no home, no real family. She cannot offer you anything,” she says, her voice dripping with disdain.
My hands clench into fists at my sides. “This is bullshit, mom.”
“It's not bullshit.” Her eyes flash dangerously. “Look at me,” she demands, her voice rising.
I meet her gaze, steeling myself.
“I raised you to choose better. You have no idea what you're setting yourself up with her.”
The lobby feels too small, too confining. I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “No, and I'm only dating her because I see a future with her. That’s exactly what you taught me, so I’ve been taking your advice all these years. No girlfriends, only hook ups with random women because I was afraid of what my perfect mother would say if I ever committed to one. But this with Amber, it’s different.”
The irony of having Madison Wilder as my first girlfriend is like a slap to my face. My mom would’ve loved her.
“I’m trying to protect you, Matthew,” she insists, her hand reaching for my arm, desperation in her eyes.
I pull away, gesturing behind her. “Your fifth husband is waiting.”
The barb hits its mark. Her face tightens, a flicker of hurt flashing across her features before she masks it. Tears threaten her eyes, but she blinks them away with practiced ease.
“I may not be the perfect mother, but I’m only human,” she says, her voice softer now. “Do you remember growing up with your grandmother or your grandfather, my parents?”
I shake my head, a twinge of sadness hitting me as I realize I don't even recall my own father that much.
Her next words come out in a rush like she can't hold them back anymore. “Is that what you want for your kids? Life is short, but the days are long. Who you choose to be with matters, and I would have never guessed you would choose a girl who's exactly like your mother.”
My stomach sinks, and I'm speechless, her words hitting me like a sucker punch to the gut. What did she just say? She's insulting herself? This is her problem? She sees herself in Amber Hughes?
Fuck. Me.
“Yeah. That’s my problem,” she says, her chin lifting. “And look at me, Matthew. I'm on my fifth husband. I'm not saying she'll make the same choices that I have because she has you and you're a good man, honey. But you're my boy, and I want what's best foryou. Save yourself the trouble. That's all I'm saying.”
The fight drains out of me, leaving me feeling hollow. The pain I feel of not having a real family other than my own mother hits me. She’s right, and she has a right to worry about my future children. “Okay, mom. I understand.”
She reaches out, patting my face gently. The gesture is so familiar, so maternal, it makes my chest ache.
“When I'm playing in the NHL, I promise I'll take care of you,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. It’s always been my goal, and she knows it.
A small smile tugs at her lips. “I know, honey, but that money will be yours for you and your family. I'm a survivor. You know I manage.” She looks behind her. “I have to go. I love you, honey.”
“I love you too, Mom.” I’m not so mad anymore.
“Thank you for coming this weekend. You're my world.”
