Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Serene . . . and slightly startled. That was all she was getting from her mother’s shiny, smooth face.
Her mother abruptly spoke into the increasingly strained silence. “After three boys, I was desperate for a daughter. And I was so happy when you came along. My precious baby girl. I imagined us doing so many things together. But the older you got, the more apparent it became that we had very little in common.”
“Not quite the raving beauty you—”
Her mother interrupted her sharply. “You stop that! I was never disappointed in the way you look. Although you can stand to lose a few kilograms, Martine! Let’s be honest.” Tina rolled her eyes at that but kept her own counsel, waiting for her mother to continue. “You’re my daughter. I love you! I was disappointed that you never wanted to go shopping with me or experiment with makeup or do all the mother-daughter things I was expecting us to do.”
And the prickly, defensive teen Tina had been had always assumed that her mother’s attempts to shop with her or teach her about makeup had been the older woman’s way of trying to improve her disappointing daughter. It had never occurred to Tina that maybe it had been her mother’s idea of bonding. She stared at her impeccably dressed mother—with her perfectly made-up face and her Botox injections and her discreet cosmetic “improvements”—and felt sudden and complete shame at the way she’d always assumed the worst of the other woman.
“I was naturally disappointed when you got pregnant.” Her mother continued to speak after taking a delicate sip of tea. “You were always a marvelous student. I was never that good at school, and I was proud of you. Of your ambition. You would have made an excellent doctor. But a baby, that was something else. You couldn’t raise a baby. You were only a baby yourself. You were my baby.” Despite the absolute lack of expression on her mother’s face, Tina was shocked to see the tears in her eyes. There was a wobble in the older woman’s voice as she uttered the last two words, and Tina’s own eyes flooded with tears.
“I felt like you were ruining your life,” her mother continued. “I didn’t agree with your decision to keep him, and perhaps I should have been more supportive, but all I wanted was for you to get your life back on track. He was a beautiful baby. But I didn’t want to bond with him, because I truly believed he was destined to be someone else’s grandchild. What happened was terrible. Your father and I weren’t sure how to deal with it, how to deal with your grief. I’ll be the first to admit that we handled it wrong. But we were saddened by his death, Martine. He was a helpless baby. We wanted more for him. We just didn’t want that more to come from our baby.”
It was the second time her mother had referred to Tina as “her baby,” and the words created a little lump of emotion in Tina’s throat. And she couldn’t seem to swallow past it.
“But after he died, it felt like we’d lost you along with him. You just were never the same. Our clever girl who had so much potential. It’s like all that potential died with Fletcher.” It was the first time Tina had ever heard her mother refer to him by name, and the lump in her throat expanded. “Your father and I were saddened and disappointed by your resulting lack of drive and ambition. We didn’t know how to make it better. And I suppose our concern and our attempts to offer advice probably seemed condescending and critical.”
Probably? Considering all the other truly moving revelations, Tina was happy to let that understatement slide. She felt like she was meeting her mother for the very first time, and the lump in her throat was starting to choke her.
Her mother was an unapologetic, controlling snob who had never understood Tina’s friendship with Libby and who still tried to dictate every aspect of her adult children’s lives, but there was absolutely no doubting her sincerity right now.
“I’m sorry our relationship was never what you wanted it to be,” Tina said quietly. “I’m rubbish at shopping—I order all my clothes online.”
Her mother offered her the tiniest of smiles. Her Botox guy had really gone overboard today.
“I really do like the fashion sense you’ve developed over the years, Martine. Making the best of your assets, so to speak. Your dresses and those pencil skirts are very attractive.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’ve wanted to tell you for years: you have a glowing, flawless complexion, so your decision to only wear eye makeup and lip gloss is inspired.”
“Thanks,” Tina said with a slight grin. She understood that her mother had said everything she was ever going to say on the subject of Fletcher, and this was her idea of pleasant small talk. And Tina found that she didn’t mind that at all. For the first time in years she felt that she actually had a semblance of a relationship with her mother. And if that meant talking about clothing and makeup, then so be it. She now knew that it came from a place of love and concern. And that was enough for her.