Classes start back next week. I wish I'd gotten more writing done this week, but I've been productive in other areas of my life instead.

Chapter 59

I never thought I'd be able to spend an entire morning with my mother without her making me feel like I was the worst daughter on earth, but since realising that relationships are a two way street and that I was just as much to blame for the dysfunction we'd allowed to fester as she was, we'd turned a corner. She still didn't like my line of work, and occasionally tried to convince me to apply for a job at the button factory, but I was usually able to put an end to it by pointing out that I was doing much better now than before I went to England, and I got a sense of accomplishment and empowerment from what I do. This morning she was trying a different angle.

"You worked so hard to get your business degree," she implored from other under the dryer hood at Mr. Alexander's. She'd been expressing displeasure with her current salon, so when I booked my trim, I decided to extend an invitation to her to give his services a go. He'd never done wrong by me, even when I walked in with post-explosion hair still sizzling. Mr. Alexander had entrusted Mom with his best associate to fix her colour and restyle her hair, and so far she seemed to be enjoying being pampered. Unfortunately, the down time involved with the hair drying process had given her time to turn her thoughts to my situation again. "And now you're not even using it."

I wanted to roll my eyes, but knew that the outward sign of exasperation would only push Mom into the danger zone where she started making more personal attacks, so I suppressed the urge. Instead, I took a deep breath and considered the situation from her point of view. She and Dad had spent the first eighteen years of my life funnelling money into a college fund, which I'd happily used to get a degree. It wasn't necessarily a subject area I was super interested in, but it was good enough to allow me to move out of home for three years and experience the world. I'd used the degree for a while at E.E. Martin. The linear application was obvious. Since being laid off and working for Vinnie I can understand how she would think that all their money had been flushed down the drain, but while the type of work is wildly different, I was still using things I'd learned in college almost every day I stepped out to bring FTAs back into the system.

I tried to explain this to Mom, but I'm not sure she caught all over it over the sound of the dryer, because she just reiterated the her forlorn view that I wasn't using my business degree.

Frustrated, words were escaping me before I could stop them. "Val's no using her degree either," I pointed out, crossing my arms over my chest.

That, she caught. Her expression transformed from the relaxed, conversational motherly friend I'd begun to enjoy and appreciate hanging out with occasionally, to that of the devil woman I'd dreaded visiting most of my adult life. Her lips pursed, eyebrows drawn in judgement. "Valerie married and raising three young girls," she informed me. "She has a duty as a wife and as a mother."

"So just because I'm childless and not married, I have to be putting my degree to use in the exact way it was intended?" I asked.

"Maybe if you'd made a better effort with Dickie-" she started.

I recognised her shift in tone. I didn't need her to berate me about my marital status, especially if she was going to use Dickie as ammunition. "Dickie Orr was a lying scumbag who had probably been cheating on me the entire time we were together," I cut her off. "You praise Val for being strong after her first husband left her for the babysitter. Why do I get lectured for my failed marriage when it essentially boils down to the same thing?"

Her face was frozen in an expression of surprise, but she didn't say anything to defend her actions. She stared at me for several seconds, eyes wide with something might have been hurt, but I wasn't going to apologise for finally expressing an issue that had been weighing me down for years. When the hairdresser returned to turn the hood off and started removing the curlers from her hair, I spun my own chair away from her, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror before me by opening up the email Tank had sent me this morning with links to cars he'd found for me to consider. He was taking tomorrow afternoon off to go with me to look at them, but being the kind of man he was, needed a plan of action in place before embarking on the mission to find me a new car.

By the time Mom's hair was done, I'd reviewed the selections he'd made, sent a reply, vetoing two of them, had a brief text conversation with Bobby about how his day was going. Spoiler Alert: it was going better than mine. He found a house he liked last week and had met with his real estate agent to go over some paperwork this morning before work. The house should be his by the end of the month.

With Mom's hair finished, the we walked together to the front counter where she insisted on paying for both of our appointments. The silence between us was thick as we made our way back out to Big Blue and buckled in. As I reached for the ignition, though, she reached out and laid a hand on my forearm, drawing my attention to her face for the first time since I'd rendered her speechless.

"I'm sorry," she said, and the sincerity in her tone was escalated by the worry in her expression. I wanted to ask what she was sorry for, to be able to mark off exactly which of her actions she had remorse for, but she beat me to it. "I didn't realise the damage I was doing. I never thought about the way my actions affected you. I praised Valerie's strength because she needed it. She was shaken by what had happened, struggling to deal with it, she was weak. If I'm being honest, she's always been weak." She paused, letting that sink in for a moment as my hand fell away from the key. Something told me we were on the verge of a breakthrough in our relationship, and it deserved my full attention. I'd never heard Mom talk negatively about Val. Not even when she was making terrible choices.

"You've always been strong, Stephanie," she told me. "Strong will. Strong opinions. Strong sense of who you are. I didn't think you needed the same support Valerie did."

"So you tore me down instead?" I questioned.

Mom winced, clearly not proud of what she'd done. "I was afraid that your strength would get you in trouble," she said quietly. "A lot of the time I was blinded by the gossip that was circulating. I wanted to protect you. I didn't realise I was doing more harm than good. I didn't realise I was pushing you away until you came back from Beth's. I realised you'd changed when you defended me to your Grandmother. You've always sided with her over me. Having you take my side for once made me realise how estranged we'd become. And I-" She swallowed hard, averting her gaze to her lap where her hands were twisting the hem of her dress. "I should have been more supportive. I realise now that the way that I treated you was wrong. When you discovered Dickie's infidelity, you didn't fall into a depression, you didn't lament your misfortune, you squared your shoulders, and kicked him to the curb. I guess a part of me believed Phyllis Grover when she said that you must not have been living up to your duties as a wife for him to have strayed, that you were looking for a reason to leave him. You were strong, but you don't exactly have a great track record when it comes to sticking with it. Look at how many extra curriculars you started and dropped in middle school."

"Mom," I said, shaking my head in wonderment. "That was middle school. I was figuring out who I was, what I liked. This was a man who had promised to be faithful to me for the rest of our lives but couldn't even wait a year before betraying that promise."

"I know," she agreed. "I was just so afraid that you'd end up alone and miserable."

I sighed. "I'd rather be alone and miserable than trapped in a loveless marriage," I pointed out, reaching into the back seat where I'd tossed my handbag and retrieving a Tastykake I'd been saving for an emergency. I broke it in two and offered her half which she took gratefully. "So, you didn't praise my efforts or openly show support because you thought my strength meant I didn't need it?" I asked.

She nodded.

"And you criticised my marriage to Dickie and pestered me to settle down and find a husband because you were afraid I'd be miserable on my own and worried that people who barely know me were right in their assessment of me?"

Another nod.

Shaking my head, I shoved my half of the Tastykake into my mouth and chewed slowly in an effort to control the emotions swirling through me. I didn't know what to think. On the one hand hearing Mom say that she admired my strength was the kind of gratification I'd been missing my entire life, but on the other hand, she'd allowed the Burg gossip to colour her view of me and push her to pick holes in my every decision, which had lead to a gaping chasm between us, and a deep well of self-doubt in the pit of my stomach. But then a thought occurred to me and I groaned as head listed backward. Mom had been just as much a victim of the Burg as I had been. They'd influenced her actions and driven a wedge between us.

"I've really enjoyed spending time with you these past few weeks," Mom said almost timidly, oblivious to the mountains shifting in my brain. "You've been making such an effort to let me and keep me informed, please don't let this ruin everything we've built."

I shook my head, finally swallowing the cake and lifting my head. "Of course not, Mom," I assured her. "We can't change the past, but we can learn from our mistakes and make a better future."

"Exactly," she agreed, relief evident in her expression as she sent me a small smile. "I promise to try not to nag you about your job."

Her wording didn't guarantee I'd heard the end of the pestering about my career path, but it did show that she was making an effort to be understanding and change her ways, and for that I was grateful. "Thanks, Mom," I said, reaching for the ignition once more just as my stomach decided to inform me that the half Tastykake I'd fed it was nowhere near enough this close to lunch time. "What do you say we grab something for lunch on the way home?" I suggested.

I think we're getting close to the sequence of events that leads to the end of the story...