Page 44 of Misery and Ecstasy

But she’s made it impossible over the years. I had to limit my access to her.

Even Alexander has tried to help me by occupying more of her time over the years, but Mom always ends up needing more from me.

“I was out shopping yesterday and saw a shirt I thought you’d like. I almost called to see if you wanted me to get it for you, but I didn’t because I know it upsets you.”

I groan inwardly and silently count backward from five to calm down so I don’t blow up. I’m tempted to remove the AirPods from my ears and lay them next to my cell phone until she’s finished talking. My head is still hurting, but despite the guilt trip ringing in my ear, luckily not as much as before.

We text throughout the week, and I finally got her to a point—for the most part—of understanding that if I don’t text her back right away, I will as soon as I’m able to.

But I allow her an hour or two every Tuesday to voice her concerns, ask any questions she’s gathered for me throughout the course of the week that she didn’t already text me, and tell me how her other friends get to talk to their children whenever they want.

And when I remind her that I’m her only friend and I don’t have children, she huffs at me and asks the exact question she’s asking me right now.

“Honestly, McKinsey… What’s so wrong with me wanting to talk to you more? Am I really such a bad mother that you can’t stand talking to me every day? That you won’t allow me to come see you on the weekends? It’s bad enough you moved two hours away…”

“You’re not a terrible mother. I’ve told you that countless times. Just like I’ve told you a million times that I’d be happy to spend time with you. You can even come stay here the whole weekend if you want, but you have to run it by me first so we can make plans. You can’t just assume I’m not busy because it’s the weekend.”

“But I like surprising you.”

“And thatwouldhave been fine every once in a while. But, Mom, you did it three months in a row my first year of college and six months straight last year when I moved into my house. Alexander had to threaten to hide your car keys if you kept it up.”

And these are just a few of the many ways my overbearing mother has ruined any chance of us having even a semblance of a normal relationship. She’s alienated herself from her friends in Wilkes-Barre in her quest to prove to me that I’m the only person she has in her life. When in reality, she has Alexander… Her fucking husband. Saint Alexander I should call him, who has provided for us and made sure we had everything we could ever want or need since the time I was fifteen.

If he didn’t work as much as he did, I’m not sure they would still be married. Even a saint can only take so much. She guilt trips him as much as she does me, but she also pushes him away, whereas she doesn’t want to let me go.

I’m not the only one in this family with deep, unhealthy relationship issues.

She can’t comprehend why it seems like I don’t need her as much as she needs me.

And part of me understands where she’s coming from. Truly, I do. We were both abandoned by Rick, my good-for-nothing father. But instead of her being there for me, or shit, even us being there for each other, she became fully dependent on me.

For everything.

For four years, I struggled to get her out of bed to go to the revolving door of jobs she went through. She wasn’t able to keep one for long because she lost her fucking mind the night we realized Rick wasn’t coming home.

It was my full-time job helping her to keep hers, in addition to going to school and … I don’t know … trying to be a teenager? She stopped being there for me, and I’ve never forgiven her for it.

She’s part of the reason I can’t bring myself to rely on anyone else.

My phone vibrates on the side table next to the recliner I’m in as I stare out my front window. Picking it up, because I need something to steal my attention from this phone call, I see a text from Draven.

My stomach drops.

Then it flip-flops as an image of him pressed against my body in my bed yesterday flashes in my mind.

I’m hesitant to open it, afraid he’s going to turn out to be the clingy type.

I let him stay for way too long after we finished yesterday. I was enjoying his company until he started asking me questions about myself. That’s my job. I ask the questions to keep the focus off of me.

And the comment he made about my mother worrying about me when he has no idea of our background made me angry. Everyone always thinks I’m a bitch and too hard on her. But they don’t understand.

Draven would be the perfect man if he could learn to fuck meandkeep his mouth shut.

Holy shit.

Okay, maybe Icanbe a bitch. But it’s one of my best defense mechanisms. It goes hand in hand with me not letting people get too close.

If they don’t know me, they can’t hurt me.

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