Her Big Neighbor

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

I roll my eyes. “Then you’re being incredibly self-centered. You know that in the two months since I moved home, you never actually asked me why I agreed? You never asked why I would be willing to leave college to help you start a charity, something that you are more than capable of doing by yourself. But you haven’t been yourself, and I get it. But that doesn’t make it okay.”

For a second, she looks startled. “Why did you—”

“No,” I say. “You don’t get to ask me that right now and turn this into a caring mother-daughter conversation. We’re way past that point.”

Her eyes harden. “Fine. I don’t want you seeing Edward.”

“What reason could you possibly have for that other than projecting your own feelings about men onto me?”

“Are you serious right now?” She tosses back the glass of alcohol. “I’m assuming that he told you what happened?”

I grab my own glass. If she’s going to drink, then so am I. “He did because you didn’t. Is this why you quit your job? Why you’ve been acting weird? Why you got blackout drunk out of nowhere?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. You have no idea how that kind of betrayal feels, Julia. It cuts you to the bone and never lets you go.”

It’s mean, and I know it, but I laugh. “No fucking shit. It’s not like you’ve been living out Dad’s betrayal for the last twenty years or anything. Yeah. It sucks, and no, I haven’t experienced it myself, and I’m glad. But you still could have told me. You don’t think I would have understood?”

She starts to pace across the kitchen, eyes wild. “All I’ve ever tried to do is protect you. You don’t need to see me fuck up. And if his brother did that to me, I can’t imagine what he’ll do to you. They cannot be trusted, and you’re not allowed to see him.”

“I do need to see you fuck up, Mom. If only because you’re human. Nobody is perfect and it’s not fair to you or me for you to pretend otherwise. And now, are you starting this charity out of guilt? Because if you are, it’s not the right reason to do it.”

“No,” she sighs. “That’s not it. The stuff with Kevin was just the catalyst. The firm had a pro-bono case that landed on my desk last year that made me aware of the problem, and it’s not something that there’s a lot of giving for. And I was tired of doing what I had been doing. And so when everything happened I needed to do something that made me feel good, so I decided to go for it.”

“Good,” I say. And I do think it’s good. I want Mom to be happy, and I want her to do something that’s fulfilling for her. I just want those same things for me.

Mom pours another shot. “You didn’t seem to hear that you’re not allowed to see him.”

I swallow the growing ball of fiery anger growing in my chest. “I was choosing to ignore it, because as I said earlier, I am an adult and I get to make my own choices.”

“Julia Elizabeth Palmer, I will not allow it while you live here.”

I thought that I might explode if I were this angry, but instead I feel a steely calm. Like I could skip a stone across the surface of my mind and it would go forever. I slowly drink the rest of the liquid in my glass, savoring the burn that reflects my emotions. “So let me get this straight,” I say to her. “You ask me to move home to help you with your new business, and I say yes. So now I’m here, helping you. And because you had a bad experience, I’m not allowed to date? Is that seriously what you’re saying?”

My mother straightens her spine and puts the lid on the bottle of bourbon and puts it away. “It’s for your own good.”

“Or what?”

She looks at me. “What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do if I tell you no, I’m not going to let you interfere in my personal life because it’s none of your business?”

Slowly, she approaches the kitchen island, and I’ve seen this stance before. This is her lawyer stance. She’s moving intentionally and deliberately. “Then you will have to choose. If you continue to see him, you will have to move out, and you can expect no contact from me while the two of you are in a relationship. You can have me or him, but not both.”

“Are you hearing yourself?”

“I’m not deaf, Julia.”

I’m the one who scoffs now. “I’m not so sure, because if you were actually hearing yourself you would be able to see how absolutely unreasonable you’re being.”

“I think eventually you’ll see that I’m right, and you’ll thank me for saving you from a world of pain.” She’s adopted that tone that every person is familiar with, the placating tone that parents take with children when they’re talking down to them.