1
Susie
I love my mother, Nanette. She gave me life. She raised me, fed me, made sure there was a roof over my head. All in all, she’s a great person.
But man, is it exhausting to talk to her.
“Mom, I don’t see why you insist on trashing my clothes during every conversation.”
My mother huffs indignantly. “I’m not trashing anything, sweetheart, I’m just making a friendly suggestion, that’s all. All I’m saying is that it wouldn’t hurt to put a little effort into your wardrobe. After all, how are you going to find a husband to provide for you if all you wear are t-shirts and jeans? They’re so stained and old, and you look like a ragamuffin.”
I look down at my outfit, but the thing is that we’re on a video call, so she can’t see below my shoulders. Where is Nanette even getting these comments? I could be sitting here in my panties, for all she knows. But I put on a patient face.
“Maybe I don’t need a husband to provide for me. That’s why I’m at college, remember? So I can provide for myself like a strong, independent woman who’s able to stand on her own two feet.”
My mom scoffs, waving one bejeweled hand in the air.
“Nonsense, Susie. You’re in college to prove a point, and you’ve proven it, okay? I know that you’re smart and you don’t have to hammer it in with every conversation. But you have to get real, sweetheart! No man wants to be seen with someone who could be mistaken for a hobo, and a dirty one at that. Now, start putting on those skirts I bought you, and maybe a corset too. Then, spend some wandering the halls of the law school and try to strike up a conversation with one of the male law students. They would make for great husbands, I’m sure.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, but I don’t want to find a rich husband. This isn’t the seventeenth century, Ma. I’d rather get married for love.”
Nanette’s snort is quite unladylike.
“Love doesn’t exist, darling. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
I roll my eyes.
“Being on your fourth husband doesn’t automatically make you a love expert. Or an anti-love expert, come to think of it.”
Nanette flips a coil of long, blonde hair over her shoulder.
“No, but it proves a point. Your father and I were barely married two years before he took off, so I had to survive. I know what love is, and what it isn’t too, and trust me, do you really want to live in a cardboard box with the man of your dreams? That’ll get old really fast, I assure you.”