“I know, Dad.” I squeeze his arm. “I remember. I just wanted her to be proud of me the way she used to be, but I’ve given up at this point.”
He nods in understanding. “You never met your grandmother, but she was a real piece of work.” He releases a breathy laugh that has no humor in it. “She treated your mom exactly how your mom has been treating you. The only difference is you got out. You formed your own path and didn’t do every little thing she expected you to do. But your mom, she had some big dreams she put on hold to try to please her own. We got married much younger than we planned because her mother was pressuring us. She went to a college her mother chose for her.” My dad nudges me as if he’s silently asking, Sound familiar? “Now, I’m not going to put words in her mouth, but I think there’s some jealousy going on, and instead of being proud of you, the way a loving mom should be, she’s envious. But you know, I think she’s starting to see it, and the realization is hitting her that she treats you the exact way her own mother did. Who, by the way, she resents still to this day.”
I stay silent, absorbing this new information. I’ve never known much about my mom’s past or how she was raised. Her perfect little mask is hard to see behind.
“I’m not trying to make excuses for her,” my dad continues. “But generational trauma isn’t easy to break, and for the first time in a long time, I have a bit of hope that she might be able to learn and grow from this.”
I can physically see the emotional toll it’s taking on him, trying to be an empathetic husband while also standing up for his daughter. No part of cutting my mom out of my life was supposed to affect him or their relationship, but of course, it did.
Holding my beer out for him to cheers, I add, “Well, maybe something good can come out of those stupid headlines after all.”
He connects his empty bottle with mine. “Maybe.”
“I think I need another beer after that.” Standing from the couch, I grab two more from the counter.
“Speaking my language.” He takes a swig of his fresh one. “So, tell me everything else. How’s work? How’s the shelter?”
“The shelter is great. I love being there. The owner is the best, and the dogs are so sweet. As far as work goes, I don’t know how much longer I’ll have a job, so there’s that.”
“Do they know it was you in the picture?”
“Officially, no, but it’s only a matter of time until my name is released, and I’ll be out of a job.”
“When Ryan called, he mentioned there’s a couple of airlines hiring, and one happens to be out here in Seattle.”
“Yeah, but that’s off the table. I can’t leave him in Chicago. Not after he worked so hard to get me out there in the first place.”
“He wanted me to encourage you to look into it.”
That causes me to pause. “Wait. Really?”
“Yeah. If you want to.”
“Why didn’t he say something to me?”
A knowing laugh heaves in my dad’s chest. “Because it’s Ryan. You think that guy could look you in the face and tell you to move across the country without him choking back tears? That kid is a brick wall of emotion unless it comes to you.”
When that job posting popped up last week, I didn’t think twice about it. Moving away from Chicago was off the table. Zanders and I were still together at that point, and I never thought Ryan would suggest I leave the city. But nothing has helped me feel better. Nothing has helped soothe the broken heart that’s been wearing me down. Maybe a two-thousand-mile distance will jumpstart the healing process, and at this point, I’m desperate enough to try anything.
I just want to feel better. I don’t want to walk out of my apartment and see Zanders’。 I don’t want to think about him every time I’m at SDOC when I notice a small repair that his donation paid for. I don’t want to relive finding him on his steps on Christmas any time I pass his building. I don’t want to think about how much he loves his niece whenever I inevitably run into them while Ella is on his shoulders. I don’t want to remember that for the first time in my life, I felt a genuine connection to friends whenever I see the Maddisons in the lobby of my apartment. I just want some reprieve from everything I lost.
My whole life, I’ve been waiting for someone else to choose me, and I constantly let myself down, holding out for others’ approval. But why am I waiting around for someone else to make me a priority when I can do it myself?