Chapter 17 #2
“She asked about you, told her you were busy cooking,” Maggie said dismissively.
She knew her daughter was curious about the woman she called “Grandma” even though it made Maggie cringe internally.
Maggie had never gone into details about her relationship with her parents or her childhood for that matter.
It was all dark and she didn’t want even a piece of that to touch Maya.
Sitting at their table sans Damien made her wonder if it had anyway.
“You never talk about her,” Maya said, starting to put food on her plate.
“I suppose I don’t,” Maggie said, taking a sip of her newly poured wine.
“Why is that, Mom? I mean, I always assumed because home or Maplewood for you was painful to talk about, but then you came back here after the divorce, so now I am thinking that’s not the case?”
Maggie looked into the brown eyes of her daughter.
God she was stunning. Tawny brown skin and coily dark brown hair covered her shoulders.
Her lips were full and she held herself with such sureness that Maggie had never had in her twenties, let alone in her forties.
How her life would have been different if she had.
Maggie sat there, as she often did when she looked at Maya, in awe that such a human had come from her.
She had raised her, and here she was, beautiful inside and out.
How then, was she supposed to sit here and tell her her mom was horrible, critical, sexist and racist and that Maggie had kept her away from her grandmother to protect her?
She remembered when Damien had had to explain racism to Maya when she was four.
She hadn’t been invited to a birthday party and when she’d asked why, the other little girl told her that she didn’t fit in because of being Black. Plain and simple and devastating.
“Am I bad?” Maya had asked both her and Damien that night.
Maya had wept at the notion someone could hate her for just being alive, for just existing, and Maggie had wept later that night.
She had felt guilty for it, knowing that it was Damien and Maya who had to carry the actual pain, but her heart had broken for her daughter and for her husband and best friend.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about the emotional impact of racism before, but here she was seeing it in real time on a four year old, who was learning to see herself the ways others around her saw her. It was just life.
Maggie had been on the fence about her mother, feeling like on one hand their relationship was separate from the relationship she would forge with Maya, and that it would have to be Maya’s decision if she wanted her grandmother in her life.
But after witnessing her child’s tears that night, she had promised herself that she would protect Maya in every way she could.
The world was cruel enough, Maya wouldn’t need intolerance and hate from within her own family.
But Maya was a woman now, an adult. The woman who sat across from her had endured much worse than a racist grandmother at this point.
They’d lived in Boston for crying out loud.
And while in theory Boston was a tolerant city, Maggie soon learned that in practice, there were still some entrenched sentiments of a not-too-distant past, no matter how many Black Lives Matter signs were hung up.
Maya also went to Harvard. And while there were plenty of student organizations dedicated to diversity, inclusion was a harder subject.
Maya had told both Damien and Maggie that every semester she was told her admission was all because of affirmative action and not because of merit, even though her daughter had been valedictorian of her high school.
“And even so, let’s say Black and Brown students are somehow just let in on a whim, how are they graduating?
” her daughter had said. Maggie had been impressed, mainly because Maya seemed to take the whole thing in stride, and here she was four years later getting ready to graduate.
She was tough. And Maggie needed to remember that.
“Your grandmother is a very complicated woman, one who wasn’t that great to me growing up, and I didn’t want her to not be great to you. I would have left that decision up to you, except, she’s also—”
“Racist?” Maya asked as if she were asking what color the woman’s hair was.
“Yeah totally, she hated the fact that I married your father, even though she insisted that I marry a well-off guy.”
“Yeah well, Dad’s parents don’t seem to be crazy about your marriage either.”
“Yeah, but I suspect those are for reasons that are less about hate and more about some kind of familial principle that you’ll have to ask him about.”
“Fair enough,” Maya said, sipping her wine.
“I know I don’t talk a lot about my childhood, and it may seem weird that I came back here, but, like I’ve told you before, this was the last place that felt like home, and it wasn’t all bad here.”
Maya nodded and said, “Good, because Mom, I am worried about you being here alone. I mean, like at least you could have stayed in Boston and been close to me, and there’s stuff to do in Boston…
here feels so isolated. I just want to make sure you get out and have fun again.
” Maya looked at Maggie from across the table with serious eyes and Maggie was once again struck with how grown up her daughter had become.
She had handled the news of the divorce and the move fairly well, though Maggie suspected there was a sadness there she didn’t talk to her about, but that she hoped she talked to someone about.
Maya was so busy at school and with her on again, off again writing hobby that Maggie wanted to make sure she had found her people.
She wasn’t like her mother, she didn’t need it to be a romantic partner for Maya, but she needed her to find her tribe.
“So how’s school?”
“Pretty good, got my grad school applications done and am just trying to enjoy the last of senior year.”
“I am so proud of you, you know that, right? I am amazed by you everyday, and I can’t wait to see what you decide to do during this next chapter.”
“Mom,” Maya said, slightly blushing but playing it off with her telltale eye roll.
“I’m serious, I know all of this has been a lot, and I am so grateful that you came to have Thanksgiving with me this year. I really appreciate it, I would have been lonely without you.”
Maya reached out her hand and Maggie took it, relishing the squeeze her daughter gave her, feeling like her little girl was still in there somewhere.
“Of course Mom, I will always be here for you. Should I come home for Christmas?”
“Would you?” Maggie said before she could stop herself.
Maya smiled back at her and said, “Of course, can’t wait.”