Page 105 of Sunshine
“The worst part,” Mona continues, “is that I never figured out who I was, you know? I never took classes because I was interested in them, like art or language or music. Only the ones that were smart or practical—science and commerce and home economics. And heaven help me if I brought home a grade below a B. I only had friends that my parents approved of, even if I didn’t particularly like them. I wore clothes I hated—plain and ugly and uptight. I could only read books my parents bought for me. I only saw movies they wanted me to see. I was Mona Golightly—and that’s all I knew about myself. My name. By thetime I was sixteen, I felt like a sketch on a page. No color. No depth. No warmth.”
The pieces start to come together for me. An explanation for her parenting style and a reason for her fragmented lifestyle. The businesses. The projects. The causes. The men. “So—”
“I snuck out to meet a boy once,” she says over me, like talking about this after so many years has opened some kind of floodgates. “I was sixteen and in love. My father found me and dragged me home. He threw me down on the front lawn, called me a slut, and spat on me while the neighbors watched.” Mona swipes a tear from her face. “That boy’s name was Daniel Whitty. He had the prettiest blue eyes you ever saw. And I hadn’t even kissed him yet.”
It’s hard to swallow, and no amount of blinking will stop the tears from falling now. “Oh, Mom.”
“I ran away the next day. I didn’t know myself at all, but I knew enough to get out of there. And I never looked back. I never regretted it. And, yes. There was a time when I didn’t think I wanted children. I didn’t think I could be a good mother—look at the role models I had—but when I fell pregnant with you, I also fell in love.”
Mona grips my hand tight enough to hurt. “I adored you before you were born, Penelope. I promised you in the womb I would never be the kind of parent you had to survive. You would be free to live and be your own person. Make your own choices—and your own mistakes. No judgment. No standards to live up to. No expectations on your life.Yourlife. I wanted you to grow up knowing who you were. I wanted you to become the woman you were always meant to be with no interference from me.”
I bow my head so she can’t see the struggle inside. My heart breaks for her—but it also breaks for me. Mona might have done what she thought was right, but it doesn’t erase all the times I needed her and she wasn’t there.
“Perhaps I took it too far,” she concedes. “And I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel unwanted or unloved. I only ever wanted to give you a gift I wish someone had given to me. Freedom.”
“But Mom…” My voice breaks as I tell her a truth I should have shared a long time ago. I’m sick of hiding things, and I’m tired of pretending to be okay when things hurt. “I needed you. I needed my mom.”
“But I was there—”
“I’m not saying this to upset you, but I want to heal, and I can’t do that by ignoring the way I feel. Running away from my pain and hiding my hurt and lying to the people I love—that’s what put me in this position, and I don’t want to be here anymore. Does that make sense?”
Mona’s brow furrows. “It does.”
“So please hear me when I tell you that I needed you. I needed you to pay attention when I was having trouble in school so that I could be tested for learning challenges that were never formally diagnosed. I needed you to protect me from Dad’s neglect and stand up for me when I couldn’t stand up for myself. I needed you to care about where I was and who I was with, so I knew you cared. And I needed you to expect the best from me, so I could learn to expect the best for myself.”
“Oh, honey.” Mona drops her head before she bounces it slowly in a sad show of acceptance. “I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t know. And I should have. Heaven help me, I should have.”
I wish I didn’t have to cause her pain to feel my own a little less, but oddly enough, the truth is freeing. A weight I didn’t know I carried in my chest grows lighter, and I duck my head to catch her eye. “It’s not too late, you know?”
She lifts her chin and I smile at the question shining in her gray-green eyes, so much like mine. And right now, so young. “But you’re grown,” she says.
“I’ll always be your daughter, won’t I?”
“Always.”
“I’ve decided to go to college in September,” I tell her. “Study business and marketing and accounting and a whole bunch of things that’ll be hard but worth it. I’ll need your help.”
Pleasure lights up her face, all those fine lines around her eyes and mouth enhancing her beauty instead of detracting from it. “You’re staying in Aster Springs?”
“I am. I’m ready to stop running and be brave about what I want.”
“I’mthrilled. And so proud of you.”
She wraps me up in a hug that feels almost as good as her praise, and when I let her go, she keeps a hold of my hands.
“You’re a good person, Penelope,” she says. “Don’t lose sight of that because things are hard right now. Daisy loves you. She won’t give up on you. The two of you are family.”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall, thinking of Daisy with less courage than I do college. It’s hard to accept that I’m more hopeful about studying than I am about saving our friendship. “If only that were true.”
A knock sounds at the door, and Mona and I swipe at our eyes with those self-conscious kinds of laughs that people share after an intense conversation.
“Maybe that’s Daisy,” Mona says.
“No,” I tell her. “It’ll be Dylan. I’m expecting him.”
Mona stands and adjusts her robe, then stalls at the closed door to give me a moment to dry my cheeks and fix my hair.
“Ready?” she asks.
