I shook my head even as I sat. “Mom, I’m really not in the mood to talk right now.”
“Well, tough shit, sweetie.”
“Mom!”
She shrugged. “I’ve let you get away with this ‘don’t be a burden’ routine for far too long. It was easier for me to rely on you to always behave. To always be the easy daughter. And that’s not fair to you.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, dear, sweet, heart-of-gold daughter of mine: Stop trying to be so damn perfect.”
I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to have this conversation any more than the Knox conversation.
“You’ve lived your whole life trying to make up for your sister. Trying to never burden anyone, never ask for anything you needed, never disappoint.”
“I feel like that’s something a parent wouldn’t want to complain about,” I said defensively.
“Naomi, I never wanted you to be perfect. I just wanted you to be happy.”
“I’m…happy,” I lied.
“Your father and I did everything we could to help Tina be happy and healthy. But it wasn’t her path. And it took years, but we finally understood that it wasn’t our path to turn her into someone she’s not. We did our best with your sister. But Tina’s choices are not a measure of our worth. It’s a tough lesson, but we got it. Now it’s your turn. You can’t live your entire life trying to make up for your sister’s mistakes.”
“I wouldn’t say that’s how I’ve lived my entire life,” I hedged.
Mom reached over and brushed her hand over my cheek. I felt the grit of dirt transfer to my skin. “Whoops! Sorry about that.” She licked her thumb and leaned in for the Mom polish.
“I’m too old for this,” I complained, backing away.
“Listen, sweetie. You’re allowed to have needs. You’re allowed to make mistakes. You’re allowed to make decisions your father or I might not agree with. It’s your life. You’re a beautiful, big-hearted, intelligent woman who needs to start figuring out what she wants.”
What did I want?
Right now I just wanted to crawl in bed and pull the covers over my head for a week. But I couldn’t. I had responsibilities. And one of those responsibilities had conned my father into taking her to the mall.
“Do you even want to be a guardian?” Mom asked.
I stilled at the question.
“I can’t imagine that taking in a soon-to-be twelve-year-old fit neatly into your life plan.”
“Mom, I couldn’t just let her end up with strangers.”
“What about your father and me? You didn’t think we’d be thrilled to make room in our lives for a granddaughter?”
“You shouldn’t have to raise your daughter’s daughter. It’s not fair. Dad’s retired. You’ll be there soon. That cruise was the first big trip you two have ever taken together.”
“Do you want to be her guardian?” Mom repeated, ignoring my excellent points.
Did I want this? Did I want to be a surrogate mother to Waylay?
I felt an echo of that warm glow in my chest. It pushed back against the cold that had settled there.
“Yeah,” I said, feeling my mouth do the impossible and curve into a small smile. It was the truth. I wanted this more than I’d ever wanted anything on my to do list. More than any goal I was single-mindedly marching toward. “I really do. I love her. I love being around her. I love when she comes home from school bursting with news to tell me. I love watching her grow into this smart, strong, confident kid who, every once in a while, lets her guard down and lets me in.”
“I know how that feels,” Mom said gently. “I wish it would happen more often.”
Ouch. Direct hit.