“Why are you here?” I ask, letting her arm go immediately. I don’t want any connection with her. I can’t even believe she showed her face at Spencer’s apartment. Somewhere she wasn’t invited. Talk about rude. This goes against all of those decorum lectures she used to give us as children.
She huffs, tugging on the hem of her jacket, straightening it. “My entire family is here, yet somehow my invitation was lost in the mail.”
I decide to be truthful. “You weren’t invited.”
Her lips part, a soft exhale escaping her. “It has always been the Lancaster way for all of us to be present at family events. Holidays. Your father and I made sure that happened once the divorce proceedings started. We may not want to be together any longer, but we still want to be a family.”
“I don’t want to be a family with you,” I tell her. She noticeably flinches, and there’s a part of me deep inside that feels terrible for saying such a thing, but she needs to hear the truth. And it has to come from me. “Not after everything you’ve put me through.”
“Darling, that should be all the reason for us to become closer.” She takes a step forward, and it’s my turn to flinch. “We have been through so much together, and look at us. We came out of it alive. Thriving.”
“No thanks to you,” I retort, glancing over at the server who walks past us, a new table setting clutched in his hands. “Don’t bother,” I tell him. “She’s not going to eat.”
He stops, his gaze sliding between me and my mother. “Uh…”
“Set it,” Mother says firmly. “I’m staying.”
“You’re not,” I return. “You need to go.”
“Sylvie! You’re being ridiculous. I’m staying,” she stresses. “Go set the table.”
Mother waves a dismissive hand at the guy and he takes off, most likely freaked out by our power struggle.
I can’t blame him. I’m freaked out too. I’m shaking, and my stomach roils, threatening to send back up the lovely lunch I just ate.
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I turn to my mother once again, hating the triumphant expression on her face. She believes she’s got me cornered. That I’ll give in to her like I always do.
“You can’t just show up to places you’re not invited. You know better than that.” God, I sound just like her, but it’s the truth. “We don’t have a relationship anymore, Mother. I don’t want to be around you.”
She blinks at me, shock in her gaze. On her face. “Why in the world not?”
Is she that oblivious? That delusional?
I glance around before I speak, lowering my voice. “Because you hurt me.”
She rests a hand on her chest, scandalized. “I did nothing of the sort. I would never hurt you. You’re my child! Your health issues were brought on by…hysteria. Thankfully, you weren’t as sick as we thought you were. Was I a little overprotective in my quest to heal you? Probably, but I don’t see how anyone can fault me for wanting my child to be well.”
Yes. She’s completely delusional. It’s clear.
“The last time we were together, I woke up to you holding a pillow over my head,” I remind her, my voice turning into a whisper. “You were trying to smother me.”
“Not at all. I was checking on you because I knew how distraught you were, and I brought a pillow with me for your comfort,” she says, changing the narrative. “You were going through such a tough time after Earl passed. I was trying to be there for you.”
“Please. For whatever reason, you were trying toendme. You’ve always tried to end me, ever since I was a little girl. At the very least, you tried to control me. Smothering me with your constant attention, when all I wanted was for someone else to notice me, especially my father. Anyone, really.”
Her expression is somber. “It’s amazing, how similar we are.”
I flinch at her words. I hate hearing her say that. “We’renothingalike. For one, I don’t try to destroy the people I love.”
“Oh darling.” She makes a tsking noise. “Look at what you’ve done to Spencer over the years.”
Rage floods me, making my head feel like it’s going to pop off. “Keep his name out of your mouth.”
A sigh leaves her and she slowly shakes her head. “Why do you always say the worst things about me, when I only wanted the best for you? You were a sickly child. Don’t you remember?”
“Only because you made me sick. There was nothing wrong with me. It all came out of nowhere. The sudden visits to the emergency room in the middle of the night. The endless consultations and tests. I remember thinking you enjoyed telling the doctors what was wrong with me, and how you fought for my well-being like you were some sort of saint. You always said you were my greatest advocate.”
Her chest seems to puff out with pride.