Page 37 of Loathe at First Sight

“Ronnie still calls this place her home. Yes, she travels a lot, but she still spends a lot of time here. Despite that girl’s desire to see the world, I knew she would never stray too far. Plus, she and Dylan have the weird twin bond thing which ensures that she won’t stay away for long.”

I interject with, “Yeah, their twin thing is kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know that I will ever fully grasp the relationship that those two have,” she agrees. “But I knew that when you left, you were going to want to stay gone.”

“I didn’t want to stay gone forever. It just seemed like every time I came back, you and I fought. It just made it easier to avoid all of that.”

“I get it. And I know I was hard on you when you did come back, but sometimes, I’d just get so hurt. I guess it came out as anger.” She pauses for a moment. “Eliza, I didn’t grow up with a great home life. You know that. I didn’t have the gaggle of siblings and great parents like your dad had. I was anxious to get away from there but for a slew of entirely different reasons than you had. Mine were based on self-preservation. I told myself that I wanted a big family, and I promised myself that I would do anything to keep us close. When you strayed, I felt like I failed.”

I know bits and pieces from my mom’s early years, but she’s never wanted to talk about it much. I know she was close with her grandma, but she died while Mom was still a kid. That grandma was the person I was named after. Aside from that, I know next to nothing. Mom’s always said she wanted to live in the present rather than the past. Because of all the issues with her parents, I’ve never even met them. I don’t think she’s had any contact since she left at eighteen. Hearing her talk about it now makes me a little more empathetic to how she’s acted.

“Mom, you didn’t fail,” I say. “You have five kids who all turned out pretty awesome. Well, maybe not Michelle,” I joke.

“I know you think I’m hard on you. You’re right. I am. And I hate to break it to you, but that’s not about to change any time soon. You can think I’m a bitch if you want, but I’m not just going to let you flounder and fall into a deep, dark hole that you can’t get out of.”

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, Eliza. Laying around eating junk food and playing on your phone all day isn’t going to move you forward in your life.”

“Maybe not. But who says I need to move forward right now? Isn’t it okay to just lay around and be lazy while I adjust to all of this?”

“What have you been doing for the past year? Back in LA, weren’t you doing basically what you were doing now…after all the court proceedings were done?”

I avoid eye contact and pick at my fingernails. “Maybe.”

She has a point. After things blew up, I had a lot of free time on my hands, waiting for answers that seemed like they would never come. During that time, my days didn’t look much different than they do now—except there I was worried yet simultaneously in a constant state of denial.

I finally look up at her and see her looking back. “Honey, it’s time to move forward. Time to stop looking in the rearview mirror and figure out where you’re going next. And for the love of God, you have to stop organizing my house.”

That manages to get a quiet laugh out of me. “Sorry. I thought I was helping.”

“I know you did. And I appreciate the sentiment. But I want you to imagine me walking into your neatly organized house and moving things around. It would drive you crazy, wouldn’t it?”

I nod. “I see your point.”

Seeing that I’m barely picking at the chips in front of me, she asks, “Are you okay?’

“I guess,” I answer honestly. “I just feel like I let everyone down. My stupid business decisions put me in a huge mess.”

“Well, it’s a good thing messes can be cleaned up. Look, Eliza, you put your trust in the wrong person. It happens. Was it a mistake? Sure. But everybody makes them. And for the record, I’m still proud of you.”

“Why?”

“You went out there and you tried. Yes, you got knocked down, and I expect it will happen again. The only time I wouldn’t be proud of you is if you didn’t get back up and keep fighting.”

“I have no idea what to do now. I just feel like I have no purpose.”

“Well, I have a couple different ideas about that.”

“Oh?” I ask, relatively intrigued to hear what she has to say.

“One, you could come to the bar and work. We could always use more hands around there.”

“Oh.” This time, that word is far less enthusiastic. “Look, Mom, I love you and Dad both. But I think that us all working together is just a bit much. We may end up killing each other.”

She smiles. “I was thinking the same thing, but that one was your father’s idea. You know him. He thinks that the whole world should sit around singing Kumbaya, and everything would be fine.”

“So, what’s your other idea?”

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