Seventeen Evelyn
"No, you can’t come. I cannot host you right now." I paced around my office, trying to stay calm.
"I'm at the airport already. I am coming all this way for you, so you're letting me stay," she barked back.
"I said I don’t like surprises! This is not my fault. I'm sorry, but this is not going to work." Walking faster, the hand gripping my phone began to shake slightly.
"I don’t care what you said. Show some gratitude, sweetie.”
"Again, I didn't ask you to. And stop calling me that." My voice was rising.
"Oh, would you look at the time, my plane is about to board," she announced with joy, disregarding me and my wishes.
"No, no." I was speaking more to myself, refusing to accept this.
"Actually yes, yes," she corrected with insincere charm, making me picture her nauseatingly giddy smile.
There was a singular sharp knock on my office door. Only one, because the person obviously heard I was on an aggressive call and left. I barely heard the knock as my voice grew significantly louder with each word.
"No! You're not!" I practically screamed. Nothing else mattered in this moment other than being heard in the limited time I had to change my mother's mind. I hung up, realizing there was nothing I could say or do to handle this over the phone.
I swung open my door with dangerous force, needing to get out of my office. Our conversations always left me feeling guilty regardless of knowing I shouldn’t. I hoped the change of scenery would help me regulate. Then I’d plan how to handle this with a clearer mind.
Hastily stepping into the hallway, Vanessa stood only a few steps away. She turned around at the loud slam, concern etched across her face.
Fuck. She overheard that conversation.
We were back on good terms, if not better than before.
But it was a fragile type of better with neither of us having actually said what happened out loud.
The jealousy thing especially—she realized what I’d assumed, and then forgave me for my reaction, yet no boundaries were set after.
We both seemed to have decided it was easier not to define anything and just enjoy whatever we had.
So, we buried the inevitable conversation we’d need to have under the way we teased each other back and forth daily.
Though not officially, something had intangibly changed between us, she held back less and seemed to care much more.
But after losing it at her only a week prior, and now her hearing this, she was going to think I had issues.
She wouldn't understand my family dynamic. How could she? Yelling was the only way I’d been heard as a child.
It was a habit I’d picked up in order to survive in my family.
I’d completely outgrown it once at college, but whenever I interacted with my mother the worst parts of myself were brought out once more.
Vanessa tilted her head, analyzing me as she took a step closer. "Evelyn?" she asked, placing a tender hand on my forearm.
Despite constantly craving her physical comfort, I couldn't handle it right now when actually touched. Reflexively, I pulled my arm away, my instincts getting the better of me. She wasn't trying to shut me up or control me. But it didn’t matter—it still felt trapping.
If she noticed, she didn't let it show. Yet she didn’t touch me again, respecting the boundary without taking it personally.
She cleared her throat lightly, hiding her previous worry to change the atmosphere. "I wanted to ask you about a conference opportunity—" she began professionally.
The elephant in the room was still apparent, and although she was ready to ignore it, I couldn't.
"You heard all that, didn't you?" I cut her off hesitantly.
"Yes, but sweetheart, it's not really my business." She gave me a small reassuring smile, but it wasn't enough.
"It’s not what it sounded like," I muttered anxiously, only making this worse.
"Evelyn, again, it doesn't concern me. You have nothing to justify."
Her soft expression was filled with comfort. But I didn't want to be comforted; I wanted to be heard, to be understood.
"Vanessa, I don't—you don't understand," I stammered, trying to have this conversation while my mind was still racing.
"Of course I don't. A mere few sentences of a conversation don't give a fair picture. Wouldn't you agree?" Her evident sincerity helped me relax.
"Yes, but after last week…I haven't created a good look for myself." I fiddled with my hair.
"I appreciate your concern for your work image, but I can assure you personal matters won't interfere with it." She was giving me an out, making it clear I didn't owe her anything personal.
"I just need you to understand that I don't have a temper," I said quietly. "I was handling something the only way I knew how."
"Honey, I'm not going to judge your reactions when I don't know what provoked them."
My whole body relaxed.
"Evelyn, you have every right to stand your ground. You know that, right?" she asked thoughtfully, her eyes reading my reaction to the question.
No. I didn't.
All I'd ever been taught was respect your mother—never respect yourself.
Emotion welled up in my chest, but I forced it back down and settled for a small nod. But she didn't press, seeming to realize she'd already gotten her answer.
"Wait, you said you wanted to ask me something about a conference, right?"
She let me change the subject, sensing I was ready.
"Yes, there's a marketing conference in Tampa next week, and the company decided rather late that your attendance would be beneficial, given your technical data skills.
It's entirely optional, but I do need to know whether you'd like to attend.
Vector Line will be covering all associated expenses. "
"Oh, how long is it?" All of this was so new, I had no idea what to expect.
"It's a two-day conference," Vanessa explained, "but we'd fly you out for three nights in a five-star hotel suite. The flight's about six hours, though first class makes it far more tolerable."
"Thank you for the opportunity," I said sincerely. "I'm definitely interested. It just feels like a long trip across the country for only two days. How long do I have to decide?"
"If having an extra day before or after the conference to unwind and enjoy Tampa would make the trip more worthwhile, I'm sure we could arrange that." She smiled. "As for your decision... sooner rather than later. Tomorrow evening would be ideal."
"I think an extra day would help," I admitted. "I can never sleep on planes." In truth, I could barely sleep anywhere most nights, but I kept that part to myself.
"I can make that happen," she said without hesitation. "But again, there's absolutely no pressure. If it feels like too much, we can always send someone else from your team," she assured, sensing I was deep in thought and assuming it was over how to best turn down the offer.
But that wasn't what I was thinking at all.
"How many others are going?" I asked, my decision dependent on that fact alone.
A faint smirk played on her lips, seeing straight through my question.
"The conference has the most networking opportunities there's been in a while, so they want me to go.
But it's technology-heavy, and that's not my specialty.
That's why you'd be a great help. Actually, it was my rather last-minute idea for you to come, hence the late notice. "
Of course she’d waited to mention that. We could've saved time if she simply proposed this idea as time with her.
"Sweetheart? What are you thinking, as of now?"
"Yes. I'd like to go," I answered with a horrible poker face.
"I thought so. I'll have my secretary begin the arrangements and send you the details as they come."
"Okay, I'll get started with preparing some relevant research myself."
"Good, sweetheart, and I like your idea of an extra day. I think I'll take one as well—maybe test out my friend's sailboat collection. It'll be nice."
Was this an invitation or just small talk?
"I just want to go in the ocean and escape this cold weather. Send me everything soon, please. I like knowing stuff in advance."
"We are similar like that. You can trust me to."
After approving the final edits on a major project, my thoughts drifted back to my mother's unwanted arrival.
Her plane would be landing any minute, and she still hadn't told me how long she planned to stay. If it was only a week or two, the inevitable drama of throwing her out wouldn’t be worth it.
For now, I just needed to get home before she did and make sure there was nothing in my apartment she'd criticize, snoop through, or destroy.
During the day she'd be out doing whatever she pleased, but every evening I'd have to supervise her like a havoc-wreaking toddler.
Why did I keep doing this to myself? Every interaction with her always involved sacrifices.
Instantly, all my previous excitement for next week vanished at the realization of what I'd have to sacrifice this time. My plans to leave for the conference in a week wouldn't work if she was here.
If she was still here, I couldn't leave.
I pulled out my phone. By now she should have landed.
She answered on the last ring.
"Mother, how long are you staying? I need to know."
"As long as I want," she replied coolly. "You can rearrange your plans whenever I decide."
I closed my eyes. "Mother, listen. I may need to leave town. What if I pay for a hotel—"
A sharp, shrill scream erupted through the speaker, forcing me to yank the phone away from my ear.
"Absolutely not! I'm staying in the apartment."
"It's my apartment—"
The line went dead.
What if I locked her out? No, I wouldn't. It would mess up my relationship with the rest of the family. I could already hear the lectures about respecting my mother, the disappointed looks, the guilt. Again, not worth it.
She couldn't wait around while my mother decided what she wanted to do. Unlike me, Vanessa didn't build her life around someone else's unpredictability.
I stared at my phone for a long moment before deciding to text instead.