Page 143 of That First Flight

“Is that anyway to greet your mother when you haven’t seen her in almost a year?” she says.

“Nine months,” I correct.

“Semantics, dear.” She laughs coldly. “I knew we would find you at some point and bring you and Mackenzie home with us.”

“How did you find me?”

“You know Bill. Our private investigator,” she says with a cheeky grin.

My gaze shifts to my father who sits there in silence sipping on a glass of what I assume is a very expensive whiskey.

“Dad,” I breathe out. Begging him for some help here.

“Sorry, dear. I think it’s time you stop playing these little games here in this rat-infested city and come back home to Montana.”

I will not let them win. I will not let them win.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.” I shake my head.

“Don’t tell me you can’t because of this stupid little temporary job,” my mom scoffs. “Besides, I asked to pay compliments to the chef, not the dishwasher.”

Her words pour out of her like venom. I don’t know how I put up with her as long as I did. I already knew leaving was for the best, but this entire interaction just goes to show that it truly was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

I push down the thoughts that start to creep up about what life would look like if I did stay.

Mackenzie would be miserable.

I would have never met Oliver.

I wouldn’t be here.

“Excuse me,” my mother calls the server over before I can speak. “I asked to speak with the chef, not the dishwasher.”

The server's eyes widen as she looks up at me, fear taking over her features.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer her.” I place a hand on her shoulder before looking back at my mom, forcing a flat smile to my face. “Youarelooking at the chef,mother.”

“It’s cute you think you could make it here,” she adds.

“It’s cute that you think Icouldn’t,” I retort. “I’m not coming home. I’m a grown adult and this is where I want to be.”

“Watch your tone with your mother,” my dad hisses.

“Watch my tone?” I can’t help but bark out a laugh. I lean down over the table to bring myself eye level with her. “I’m done with that life.”

“What life? The life where we gave you everything you could’ve ever wanted? The life where we raised your daughter because you had to be a little slut and get knocked up at sixteen?” My mom’s mouth twists up as if she’s won with that argument.

I lower my voice, bringing myself even closer to her to avoid causing a scene in the restaurant. “The life where you made me feel less than I was. The life where you controlled not only my life, butmydaughter’s. Why can’t you seem to understand that? Why can’t you leave us be and understand we’re the happiest we’ve ever been?”

Mom scoffs and adds an eye roll for exaggerated measures. “You can’t be serious. The concrete jungle is what makes you happy? There's no way Mackenzie wants that life. I’m sure she hates it here. She’s probably even regressed in school. That poor girl. She was doing so well in her advanced classes.”

“The way she tells me multiple times a day how happy she is, tells me otherwise.” I shrug.

My mother sits there in silence, but the look on her face tells me she still thinks she's winning this argument.

“I hate to break it to you,mother, but we’re doing better than ever. I landed my dream job without your help. I’m standing on my own two feet without your help. I’m raising my daughter the way she deserves to be raisedwithoutyour help. She loves her school and is doing amazing for your information. Listen closely when I tell you that leaving Montana was the best decision I’ve ever made next to keeping my daughter after you told me to… and I quote… get rid of her.”

“You were sixteen years old,” she seethes.

---