36. Lizzie
THIRTY-SIX
LIZZIE
My mother called me the next day while I was lounging on the couch with a cup of coffee. I stared at my phone for a while and considered not answering, but the guilt got to me and I swiped. The new me needed more practice, apparently.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Lizzie. I’m glad I caught you. How are you? How are the kids?”
I stared at the stockings hanging on the mantel and tried not to feel bitter about her questions. Would it have been impossible for her to simply ask how I was? She followed up so quickly with a question about the kids that it was obvious she didn’t give a flying fig about me.
But maybe I was being harsh. “I’m okay. The kids are great. Isaac and June are taking them to visit his parents today.”
“Oh, good for them.”
“Hmm.”
There was a silence. Then my mother inhaled. “Listen. I want to talk about what happened at Christmas.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You and Sean…”
“We kissed.”
“Right. I know that. See, Lizzie, the thing is, Aaron was really upset about it.”
“Is there a reason you’re telling me this instead of Aaron telling me himself?”
I could hear her shock in the gap of silence that followed my question. “Well. I just thought I’d reach out and see if you were ready to apologize.”
I blinked. “What am I supposed to apologize for?”
“Lizzie!”
“It’s an honest question.”
“You’re supposed to apologize for hurting your brother’s feelings!”
“What does this have to do with Aaron? Am I supposed to ask permission every time I kiss a new man?”
“That’s not the issue here, and you know it.”
I pinched my lips. She wasn’t wrong, exactly, but I still felt the burn of self-righteousness down the back of my gullet. Sean was Aaron’s best and oldest friend. Me getting involved with him wasn’t the same as getting involved with some other man. I knew that.
Still, it galled me that my mother was calling me to berate me, or to try to convince me to bend for the sake of family unity.
When she spoke again, her tone was softer. “I’d just like to get this resolved so we can have a nice New Year’s together. Wouldn’t that be good? And I also wanted to ask you what you need from me before the party.”
“There won’t be a party, Mom.”
“What?”
“Well, not at my house.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not hosting New Year’s this year.” And if I continued to feel the way I did, there wouldn’t be any family parties at my house, ever. Nor would I be relegated to the kitchen while everyone else enjoyed themselves. Nor would I be the de facto babysitter for every gathering.
Something had snapped within me, and I wasn’t sure it could ever be fixed. I wasn’t sure it needed to be fixed. I felt freer and lighter than I had in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
“Lizzie,” Mom chided.
“You know at Thanksgiving, I asked for one thing,” I told her. “I asked you all to save me a portion of stuffing.”
“Listen, there were lots of people there, and we were having a good time?—”
“I cooked almost everything on that table, and then I spent the entire day taking care of everyone else’s kids. I was a maid and a babysitter and a host, and it wasn’t even my house. And I asked for one single thing, Mom. One little spoonful of stuffing.”
Her silence echoed between us.
“I wasn’t even worth that,” I finally said, my throat growing tight. “So forgive me for not feeling like I want to put in hours and days of work to host a bunch of people who don’t give a fuck about me.”
“Lizzie, language!”
“Oh, give me a break, Mom,” I said, even though that might have been the first time I’d sworn in front of her since a few memorable teenage storms. “When Isaac betrayed me and I finally worked up the courage to leave him, do you remember what you told me?”
I heard her breath, but she said nothing.
“Your exact words were, ‘Are you sure about this, Lizzie? What did you do to make him look for comfort in another woman?’” I swallowed thickly. My arms and legs tingled like I needed to run around the block just to let off some steam. When I spoke, my voice was surprisingly steady. “You blamed me for his betrayal, Mom. You made me feel like I should have just accepted the scraps of his attention. And now I finally understand why. It’s because that’s what you, and Dad, and Aaron, and Kyle, and everyone else in the family think I deserve. Nothing but scraps. Not even one measly spoonful of stuffing.”
I heard her sniffle, but my heart was made of stone. When she didn’t speak, I pulled the phone away from my ear, waited a few seconds to see if she would say something, and then slowly hung up the call.
I felt like garbage. Tension stole through my entire body, and that need to run or box or scream still coursed through my veins. I felt like I’d just hurt my mom, which I hated, but the other, bigger part of me was so fucking angry that I’d let myself be treated this way for years.
I was done.
Done catering to everyone else’s feelings. Done putting myself last. Done working myself to the bone with a smile on my face.
I took a deep breath, exhaled, and stood up. Then I got dressed and packed up my camera, and I headed out to search for peace in the crashing waves and bare trees, where no one demanded a thing from me.