Page 31 of Lost in the Current of You

“Hey,” he patted my shoulder before squeezing it. “I may not be in contact with your mother much anymore, but I know she only wants the best for you. She had a hard time growing up, and she doesn’t want that for you. It may not be the best tactic she uses, but just know that she does love you.”

My shoulders slumped. I had been told this when I was younger. On the times Mum had given me just the slightest of her attention, she had told me to dream big. That I wasn’t meant for this regular life with minimum benefits. Because she knew how that felt. She had grown up in a low-income and could barely scrape together money for their next meal.

She worked hard to get to where she was, I knew that. But then she had kids straight after getting her law degree, and she never knew how to sacrifice just a little bit of that time for her kids. It’s why, eventually, Dad divorced her. She didn’t have time anymore to love everyone when she was only focused on her job, her first love. It didn’t upset me when it happened. I guess I was already prepared for it. I never really saw them together much and when they were, they would argue like nothing else. They were two different ends of a jigsaw puzzle that never fit together.

I waved it off. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s just watch a movie before I have to suffer.”

He wrapped his arm around my neck and messed my hair with his other hand. I giggled, moving out of his arms before we settled and chose a movie to watch for the two hours before I had to get ready to leave.

When the movie finished, Dad didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. He just kissed the top of my head and passed through to the kitchen.

I took my time getting ready, all the while my stomach was in knots, and I chewed my thumb nail right down to the quick.

I chose the perfect clothing to my mother’s standards and kept my makeup light to cover any blemishes or flaws I might have had. I made sure to make everything about my appearance to her high standard to minimise the things she could criticise about me.

I was prepared for the talk about my future, but I was still running on a bit of a high since graduating high school and I knew anything else she would bring up would send me plummeting.

So, I prepared and tried to quiet my nerves all the way to the fancy restaurant she had picked out in the city. My palms were so sweaty that I tried to subtly shake them dry.

But, I knew nothing could ever prepare me for these meals with my mother. I should have known that. I’ve always known that.

11

It was almost forty minutes of waiting in this fancy, way too expensive restaurant before I saw my mother walk through the door looking unrushed. Her blonde hair was pinned to perfection, and not a smear of makeup was out of place. She looked as put together as she usually does — the exact opposite of how I felt, especially with the wait. I’d been talking myself out of leaving and feeling extremely out of place.

My mother and I were complete opposites. She liked order, I took every day as it came. She likes the city, I like the beach. I think maybe that’s why we clash a lot. We are not alike. The only thing we share is a similar face.

She walked to the table with her head held high and in a perfect posture, and to be honest, I kind of envied that, the way she could put on a front of confidence. Because, there I was, slumped in my chair, making myself small and wishing I wasn’t there.

I half expected her to be a normal mother and show some sort of motherly affection, even just for the show of it. A hug would do, even with how tense she usually was on the rare occasion she gave them. So, when I went to stand with a forced smile on my face, it slipped straight off when she slid into her chair before I could even leave the seat.

That was how the majority of that dinner went, with a tiny sprinkle of hope that it wouldn’t be as bad as I thought, doused by disappointment when it went exactly how I thought it would.

She talked about all the possibilities that could come with following in her footsteps, just like Nate was. How I could be just like Nate if I just gave it a try. If I just put some effort into my life. I zoned her out mostly after her second comparison to Nate and me as the food arrived.

It wasn’t until during dessert that I could feel it all taking a toll on me. I had practically blocked out her voice and was only nodding and humming at reasonable times, so she thought I was still listening. But then, the next words made me snap back into the world.

“I wish you were more like your brother. He was so much easier and knew exactly what he wanted at this stage in life. He was never this clueless.”

I could feel the muscles of my shoulders tense with that comment. Before I could even think about it, everything I’d ever had to swallow down and hold myself back from saying because she was my mother, bubbled to the surface. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep quiet while she ridiculed my life and continued to compare me to my brother.

My gaze snapped to hers and my jaw clenched.

“Well, maybe you should write me off as your daughter with how pathetic I am then. If I’m too much, maybe you should just forget that I exist and make your life that much easier.”

She gaped at me before leaning forward to speak in a hushed, sharp tone. “Dakota Summers, how dare you?—”

I interrupted her. “You know what, I’m over this. I’m leaving.”

I got up out of my seat as she seethed.

“Dakota, you are making a scene. You better not leave me here. We have much to talk about.”

I turned to face her as I pushed in the chair. “No, Mother, you have much to talk about. None of the things you want to talk about interest me.” I shook my head and looked to the ceiling with an exasperated scoff before looking back at her. “Have you ever thought that maybe I don’t want to go to university? Maybe I’m not meant for academics because I’m certain you knew what my grades were like in high school. So stop pushing me to be this person you want me to be. Because I’m not her.”

I left before she got the chance to say anything more. I couldn’t handle hearing any more words from her.

It was like the restaurant had been so stuffy that it restricted my ability to breathe. So, when I stepped outside, I gulped down every bit of fresh air. After standing up for myself, it was like some of the weight had lifted. But, I could still feel the burning heat of anger inside me from her comment. I was so frustrated and dejected that I felt like I was five seconds from bursting into tears. All I knew was that I needed to get out of there.

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