Chapter 67
CHAPTER 67
DIXIE
T he tension in my shop was thick enough to cut with a knife. My mother stood there, her arms crossed, her eyes scanning every corner of the space with that critical gaze I knew all too well. It was the same look she’d given me my entire life—like I was a project that needed fixing, a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she had never given me a lot of reason to trust she was truly interested in me. Or knew what was best for me.
I hated to think it, but that was just the way I felt.
I didn’t like having her in my space. This was where I created the pieces I loved. Her negative energy was not helping.
“Mom, let’s go for a walk. We can talk outside.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. It’s probably better for you to get some fresh air.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I seriously doubted she cared about the air in my shop. I put the lids on any open cans and led her outside.
Mom made a big show of taking several deep breaths. “Maybe you should get some better ventilation in there,” she said.
I bit my tongue, trying to keep my irritation in check. We walked in silence for a few moments, the tension between us palpable.
“It’s a nice day,” she commented.
“Yes, it was.”
“I was thinking about having your father build one of those raised garden beds in the backyard,” she said.
Clearly, she wanted to dance around the subject, which was fine with me. We continued walking.
“The weather’s been nice lately,” Mom said, glancing up at the clear blue sky.
“Yeah, it has,” I agreed, kicking a small pebble along the sidewalk. “Good for working outside.”
“Speaking of outside, I was thinking of planting some new flowers in the front yard. Maybe some hydrangeas.”
I nodded. “Those are pretty. They’d look nice by the porch.”
“I thought so too. Your father’s not so sure. He says they’re high maintenance.”
“They can be,” I said. “But worth it when they bloom.”
We lapsed into silence again, the tension still thick between us. I could tell she was trying, in her own way, to bridge the gap between us. But years of misunderstandings and hurt feelings couldn’t be healed with a simple conversation about the weather. But it was better than arguing and saying things that only served to hurt each other.
We continued walking, making small talk about flowers and the weather. It was awkward, but at least we weren’t arguing.
“I’ve been thinking about redecorating the guest room,” Mom said after a pause. “Maybe a nice pale yellow. Your old room. Your father has taken over Frankie’s old room. I’m bored with the boring white. All this sunshine makes me think yellow.”
I nodded. “That could be nice. Very soothing.”
“I thought so. Your father says it might be too feminine, but I think it would work well.”
“It’s a guest room,” I said with a shrug. “I don’t think the color matters that much.”
Mom hummed in agreement. We walked a few more steps in silence.
“Have you thought about what color you might paint the nursery?” she asked, her voice hesitant.
I tensed slightly at the mention of the baby. “Not really,” I admitted. “It’s still early.”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “I just thought…”
“Mom, what are we doing?” I asked. “I have work to do. I’m happy you’re painting the guest room, but what are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you about what happened when you came to the house,” she said. “About how you yelled at me.”
I stopped walking, turning to face her. “I didn’t yell at you, Mom. I was honest. There’s a difference. My voice might have been raised, but that was warranted.”
She frowned, her expression hurt. “It felt like yelling. And it was cruel.”
“Cruel?” I repeated, the word catching me off guard. I couldn’t believe she was here lecturing me about being mean to her after what she had done to me. Done to Hayes and nearly did to my child. I actually believed she was hoping to make amends.
I should have known.
“I was being honest, not cruel. If you don’t want me to say things like that, don’t behave the way that you do. You were out of line.”
My mother stopped walking, her eyes widening in shock. “I was trying to help you!”
“Mom, you tried to run off the father of my child,” I said with disgust. “If he gave you the money to give to me, what were you going to tell me? Were you going to tell me he just did it on his own? Were you going to let me think he wanted nothing to do with me or the child? Do you even understand how hurtful that is?”
Mom’s face flushed red. “I was trying to secure your future! And the baby’s future. You don’t understand what it’s like to raise a child on your own. I was just trying to make sure you’d be taken care of.”
“By lying to me? By trying to manipulate Hayes?” I shot back, my voice rising. “That’s not helping, Mom. That’s meddling in the worst possible way.”
“I didn’t want you to struggle like I did!” she exclaimed. “Is that so wrong? To want better for my daughter? Your father and I were married, and we had it tough. Do you really think you’re going to be able to do it by yourself? We had a house and were established. You live in a shoebox! I just thought having a financial cushion would take some of the weight off you.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I did think she was trying to help in her own twisted way. “Mom, I appreciate that you want to help. But going behind my back, trying to get money from Hayes? That’s not okay. It’s not your place to interfere like that.”
“I’m your mother,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s my job to look out for you. To protect you.”
I sighed. “Mom, I’m an adult. I can take care of myself. And Hayes and I are figuring things out together. We don’t need you to interfere.”
“But what if he leaves?” she asked, her eyes wide with worry. “What if he decides he doesn’t want to be a father after all? You’ll be left alone with a baby and no support.”
“Then that’s something I’ll have to deal with,” I said firmly. “But that’s not for you to decide or try to prevent. Hayes is committed to being there for me and the baby. Believe it or not, he wants to be with me.”
“Dixie, Hayes is… wealthy. Attractive. He can have any woman in the world.”
And there it was.
I wasn’t good enough for Hayes in her eyes. She thought so little of me. It hurt. It burned somewhere deep in my soul.
I took a deep breath, feeling a surge of courage. I did have Hayes. I had support. She didn’t get to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough.
“Look,” I said, my voice calm. “You have been hurting me for years, and I’ve never spoken up. I’ve let it happen. But I’m not going to let it happen anymore. I’m going to tell the truth, regardless of whether it hurts your feelings. The truth is you have always loved Frankie more than you have ever loved me. You have always looked at me like I was a disappointment. Like you can’t figure out where you went wrong. I don’t know what I did to earn such disgust from you, but too bad. I am who I am. I’m not going to change. You don’t have to like it because believe it or not, other people do, including a man like Hayes.”
My mother opened her mouth to protest, but I held up a hand, stopping her.
“It’s okay,” I said, my voice softening. “Frankie’s fucking awesome. I get it. And it took me a while to figure out who I am and where I need to plant my feet. But I’ve found that now. I don’t need your approval. I don’t need your support. Honestly, I don’t even need your love that you’ve been withholding for most of my life. I’m not ever going to be Frankie. I don’t want to. I’m me.”
Her mouth opened and closed. Her shock and horror were evident. Once I got started, I couldn’t stop. It was like a dam breaking. I had been holding back my feelings for years. Since I was a kid.
I lifted my chin, feeling my chest open up, like I was standing tall for the first time in a long time. “I’m going to be okay. More than okay. I’m happy. I’m healthy. And I’m in love. I want you to be there for all the good things that are coming for me, but if you can’t find your way through whatever this negativity is, I don’t think that will be possible. I cannot let you keep trying to tear me down. Especially once my baby is here. I will not have my child thinking his mom is a piece of shit because my own mother can’t seem to accept me for who I am. I’m not a loser. I’m not a bad person. Most of all, I’m not unlovable.”
I paused, my heart pounding in my chest. “I love you, Mom. And I’m going to go back to work. You can do whatever you want, but you and I have nothing more to say to each other. No, I won’t be coming for dinner. Not until I know you’re going to accept me for who I am.”
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving my mother standing there. I shed a tear as I walked, knowing this might be goodbye to my mother for a long time. Maybe forever. But I was also proud of myself for finally speaking my mind and standing up for myself. I felt like I’d done it with integrity, and I knew I had to choose something better for me and my child.
Back at the shop, I got back to work, putting on some seventies rock and telling my baby that I was going to make sure they had good taste in music. I felt lighter. I danced while I worked, humming to the lyrics. I was no longer carrying her displeasure and disappointment. I couldn’t believe it had taken me this long to release that burden.
I caught myself pausing to look in a mirror and examine my lower tummy.
No bump to be seen, and probably not for some time, but if I pushed my tummy out, I could imagine that I was several months ahead in my pregnancy. The reflection made me smile. My overalls weren’t going to be just functional for work. They were going to be very handy when my belly outgrew the waistband of my jeans.
I felt a sense of peace, of hope. I wasn’t sure what the future held, but I knew one thing for certain: I was going to be the best mother I could be. My mother could feel otherwise but it didn’t matter. It was so freeing to be able to let go of her expectations and judgments.
As I worked, I found myself daydreaming about the future—about holding my baby for the first time, about Hayes by my side as we figured out this parenting thing together. I imagined lazy Sunday mornings with the three of us cuddled in bed, Hayes making silly faces to get the baby to laugh.
My future was bright.