Chapter - 23
ELOISE
“I should just be grateful you’re here at all.” My mother sniffed, once again reorganizing the flowers scattered all around her backyard dining area. This house that I had lived in with my parents for years felt alien to me. It was gaudy and flashy and reeked of the one percent lifestyle, but it also just felt…empty.
Perhaps that was why my mother was big on formal brunches and tea parties with her friends. Perhaps my mother needed to fill in the emptiness of the space, too.
“What does that mean?” I asked, taking a deep breath through my nose.
It had been about three weeks since Logan and I became official. Since he stayed the night at the townhouse, we both woke up to Courtney and Josh flipping pancakes in the kitchen. It felt a little weird to have them making breakfast for us, in a clear congratulations-to-finally-becoming-official kind of way, but not weird enough that Logan and I didn’t eat every single bite of the blueberry pancakes Courtney had mastered over the years.
But then Susan asked if Logan and I were being safe, and I wanted to melt into the floor. Logan narrowed his eyes at the old woman and nodded his confirmation, and then Susan dropped it. Almost like she felt the need to check that box before continuing on with her line of questioning. She was suspicious that Logan and I had been sneaking around ever since Logan ditched the bar to cuddle with me on the couch during my period. She had even heard someone leaving my bedroom in the early hours of the morning multiple times, but didn’t ask if it was Logan out of respect for my privacy.
I stared at the charcuterie board I was finishing putting together, and I realized that there was no chance in hell that my own mother would respect my privacy in such a way.
I could see her stiffen in my peripheral vision, because talking back to her or challenging her in any way was still something she was getting used to.
“It just seems like you have been too busy for me lately,” she said, feigning innocence as she plucked the wilted petals off of the flower bouquet.
“That’s because I have been,” I replied casually. That made her straighten and stare at me, so I straightened and stared back at her. I could see the blue in her eyes, identical to mine, studying me. Trying to figure me out. I noticed when they landed on my arm tattoos, and the short cut of my hair. Two big “fuck you’s” for how she had styled me growing up.
A flicker of sadness crossed her expression before her cool mask of indifference fell into place again.
“I just miss you, Eloise.” My mother’s voice was small, lower, giving away the melancholy that her indifferent expression tried to hide.
I felt my heart squeeze at that.
“I miss you too, mom,” I admitted, “But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t need to be on my own. Be my own person.”
She narrowed her pale eyebrows at me, “What does that mean?”
I sighed, feeling my shoulders slump as I readied myself for the conversation my mother and I needed to have, something that Logan had been hyping me up for via text while he was out of town yet again for an away game. “I don’t feel joy from this.” I vaguely let my hand gesture to the classic and elegant random ass brunch my mother was setting up for her girlfriends, who were due to arrive within an hour. “I don’t like pretending that I get along with your friends. I don’t like pretending that I agree with everything you think I should be doing. And I don’t like pretending that it doesn’t suck that I need to tiptoe around my mom’s feelings instead of prioritizing my own.”
My mother stared at me; her mouth slightly parted in surprise from my words. I didn’t back down, though. I fought against the urge to immediately apologize, to tell her that I was feeling tired or silly or whatever excuse I used in the past to put a band-aid on the whole situation.
“I didn’t realize that I was causing you so much distress.” She frowned, but I could see her pinched brow and redness starting to line her eyes as she fidgeted with the bouquet on the table she was decorating.
I wanted to roll my eyes at the manipulative language she chose to use, but that wasn’t how progress was made. “I’m glad you know now.”
Boom.
She physically winced at my confirmation, clearly surprised that I didn’t immediately try to coddle her or explain that she wasn’t causing me distress. She was, and it was okay for her to know that. That didn’t mean that I hated her. It just meant that we had some things to work on.
“Look,” I sighed, walking over to her so that I could rest my hand on top of hers, “I am not angry or upset with you, though it feels like you’re irritated with me.” My mother opened her mouth to say something, but I ignored her and kept going, “But it’s okay for me to be on my own. It’s okay for me to have friends and a job and a life outside of you, to not have you be my best friend. I’m a grown woman, and I am just starting to figure out what I truly want for my life. Before, I just kept turning to you. I was more worried about doing whatever would make you and everyone in your circle happy, instead of what would truly make me happy. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to want as my parent? For your daughter to be truly happy with herself?” I blinked away the stinging in my eyes, a reaction that must be from finally, finally getting all of this off of my chest in front of my mother. “I would love to keep coming over to help you with your parties, occasionally. But that’s not the focus of my life anymore. Since I moved out this last time, I learned what I need to prioritize, what I need to do to keep my peace. And sometimes that will include putting a little bit of distance between you and me, between me and the world I was brought up in.”
A world I now thought of as privilege, snobbery, and shallow interests.
My mother blinked at me as she squeezed my hand, staring at me with wide eyes as if she was seeing me for the first time. As if something was clicking for her, pieces of a puzzle coming together in her brain.
She looked down at my hand, the one that had the flowers tattooed on them and lifted it up for her to look at as she squeezed my fingers again.
“I…” my mother swallowed, “I think I knew I was pushing you away.” I kept quiet, trying to create a space for her to get her own words out. “I think I knew, even before I came home that day to find your room cleaned out, that I was pushing you away. I didn’t want to push you away, but…I didn’t know what else to do.” She shrugged before biting her lip. My mother was biting her lip. A move I had never seen the elegant Mrs. Bane do.
“I don’t want to keep pushing you away, mom,” I took a step closer and wrapped my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulder. I felt relief blanket my chest when she rested her cheek on top of my head, her hands coming up to grip my arms that wrapped around her. “But it’s okay for children to create boundaries with their parents, you know? I still want you to be part of my life, but just let me take the wheel. It’s okay for you to be in the passenger seat every now and then.”
My mother giggled a little, “That’s a cute analogy, Eloise.”
I laughed with her, “I know, I’m super clever.” My mother laughed again and pulled away, wrapping her arms around me instead.
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “I love having you home, but I will try to remember that you have your own life, too.”
I squeezed her back, “Thank you.”
We held each other, hugging tightly as we let the words that we just exchanged float around us. With each second that passed, it was like a new foundation was being built between us. Each squeeze reminding the other that this was okay, that we were okay. That we weren’t angry or bitter or upset, we were just simply adjusting to what a new normal between us would be.
Finally, we pulled away from each other and casually wiped away some stray tears from our eyes. It was a short discussion, but it was more of a heart-to-heart than we had ever had with each other.
I wanted to break the ice, while also throwing down a white flag. “I met someone.”
My mother’s eyes widened as an excited smile broke apart on her lips. “Do I know him?” she asked. I laughed and shook my head.
“Do you keep up with hockey at all?”
My mother’s brow furrowed in confusion, like her answer should have been obvious to me. “No?”
I smiled, “I don’t either, but he plays. You’d know him if you were a fan of the Ducks.”
“Oh, a professional athlete?” Her eyes glowed with the realization, and I also realized it would take a while for my mother to become someone who prioritized who my partner was on the inside, instead of their occupation or income.
“The fact that he plays for the NHL is probably the least interesting thing about him,” I replied. My mother’s eyes softened at that, and as she studied me, I understood that she was willing to try. That she wanted to try. That she prioritized having a relationship with me over what she was expecting our relationship to be. I smiled as I pulled out my phone to show her pictures, and she responded by pulling out a chair at the table to sit at before we spent the next thirty minutes doing what mothers and daughters did best.
Which was ogling her daughter’s boyfriend, and intently listening while I filled her in on everything that I wanted her to know. Like how Logan and I met, and how I truly hated him for a while. I delighted in her gasp as I shared with her the story of pie-maggedon, and how her daughter had the audacity to act so irrationally.
But then she grinned, like she didn’t realize until that moment how proud of me she truly was. Perhaps I was just being hopeful.
“I’m glad you made him work for it,” she said after some time, “He sounds special.”
“He is.” I sighed, staring at one picture I had pulled up intending to help my mother see what he looked like. We had also accidentally stumbled upon some marketing the Ducks had done this last summer, and my mother and I stared a little too long at one picture of Logan all oiled up and shirtless in front of his team’s logo. He was clearly irritated with the whole ordeal, and his glare at the camera immediately made me laugh. My mother saw me laugh at his expression, before smiling brightly herself as she took in my response.
“You are special too, Eloise,” she whispered, “You deserve somebody just as special.”
I sniffed, a wobbly smile tugging at my lips, “I really like him, mom.”
She grinned, her eyes glancing down at the shirtless Logan on my phone, his pants pulled dangerously low. “I can see why.”
“No,” I laughed, “Not that, though that doesn’t suck, either.” I closed out of the browser and set my phone down on the table. “I just…I’m scared, I think. I haven’t seriously dated someone since Adam, and we all know how that worked out.” I rested my chin on my fist, feeling emotionally exhausted and missing my boyfriend terribly. My mother sat there next to me, studying my face with a thoughtful expression of her own.
“You won’t have your mother and his mother meddling in your relationship this time, though.” I widened my eyes at her, because we hadn’t talked about that specifically, but she still acknowledged the fact that she did, in fact, overstep.
“Are you sure?” I asked, because last I knew, Adam’s mother was still kind of an asshole to Beck. Still bitter that her son picked someone she didn’t pick out herself.
“Unlike Edith Hall,” my mother rolled her eyes, “I know when to put aside my pride. That woman basically has no relationship with her only child now, and I do not want to make the same mistake as her.” She emphasized her words with a swipe of her hand, and I giggled at the relief I felt expand in my lungs at the sight.
“Thank fucking god.” I breathed. My mother gasped at my language and swatted my arm, but I just laughed and flinched out of her way.
“Please, do not use that sort of language when my guests arrive,” she squeezed my arm in reassurance, “And be patient with me if it takes some time to hear you use that language with me in private.”
I rested my hand on top of hers, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret that you’re a cool mom.”
She smiled again, before pressing a motherly kiss on my head and wrapping me up in her arms once more. I felt significantly more relaxed than I did an hour ago when I first arrived at her house. I pictured the worst-case scenario. I had seen how it worked out for both Beck and Adam when they stood up to their parents for their own reasons, and Beck hadn’t spoken to her parents in any capacity for a couple of years now. I had only heard about this ending in catastrophe, where the parents couldn’t handle their children putting up boundaries.
I was lucky because my mom and I wouldn’t follow that pattern. We both wanted to make our relationship work. I was sure that we would hit snags and bumps, as any mother-daughter relationship played out. But knowing that there was a willingness to meet me halfway made me feel at ease. Like it would all work out in the end.