I’d decided to help her because I couldn’t watch her live on the streets. She had no family she could turn to—she was estranged from the few who were still alive. But I needed her to start doing something with her life so that I didn’t have to worry about her all the time anymore.
“You should set a time every day and get the words out, no matter what,” I said.
Mom pursed her lips together, and her eyes became misty.
“I know. It’s just not always that easy.”
“I know it’s not,” I said. “But it will get better. In time. You just need to keep pushing.”
Mom’s eyes welled with tears, but she squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to reel herself back in.
“I shouldn’t cry about it,” she said in a wobbly voice. “I know I did this to myself. It’s just so hard.”
I felt sorry for her. She had nothing now. She’d lost it all. She hadn’t thought things through. She’d acted on a whim.
Mom was like a child in some ways. She dreamed with her eyes open. She lived in the now. She refused to see the bad in the world.
And when the time was right, there was nothing wrong with her outlook.
But she needed balance. And Mom was all-or-nothing. She threw herself into an idea, or she didn’t do it at all.
Buying curtains instead of groceries was irresponsible, but it didn’t hurt anyone but herself. It was when she’d acted on a whim with another man, living in the now instead of thinking about what it would do—and it had ripped through our whole family—that things had gotten ugly. Then, the perpetual childlike wonder wasn’t a good thing.
And the dreams she’d built had all come crashing down.
“How’s work going?” Mom asked. She blew her nose and smiled brightly and erased all proof that she’d been emotional a moment ago.
“It’s going okay,” I said. “I have a really big client. I presented an idea to him a couple of days ago, and he was happy, so we’re moving forward.”
“That’s good, honey,” Mom said. “You should streamline your design process a little more. If you get that assistant of yours to do the foundational work, you can focus on the bigger things that really bring in your money. You should always delegate the small things.”
“I know, Mom.”
“Did you read that article I sent you about time management?”
I nodded, even though I hadn’t read it. I hadn’t had time.
“Have you started applying it?”
“My system works fine as it is right now.”
“But you can do so much more if you use your time right.”
I was getting irritated. My mom couldn’t even finish two articles for the magazine that had been gracious enough to give her a spot. At this rate, she was going to lose the job altogether. But she could tell me exactly how to run my own company, the one I’d started by myself.
I took a deep breath to stay calm. She wasn’t in control of her own life. She was just looking for something that felt more normal. I had to remind myself of that. It was easier to look at others than to turn the criticism inward.
“Did you get rid of that client you told me about?” Mom added.
“Mr. Barnett?”
Mom nodded. “That’s the one. He wanted you to do everything all over again.”
I shook my head. “No, I didn’t get rid of him. He was happy with how we ended off the last contract, so he asked me to do another project.”
Mom looked disapproving. “You can’t just hang on to these people that make you miserable. I told you the sooner you get rid of him, the better.”
“I can’t just get rid of clients when the job gets hard, Mom. Where would my money come from? This is part of it; it’s how things work. Whenever you work with people, you butt heads sometimes.”