Page 7 of Worth the Trouble

“What was that?” Mom’s eyes skim me over in assessment.

She never looks at me like a daughter she loves. Instead, her gaze is detached and cold. I’m a project. But I’m not sure if she considers me a good one or a mistake she’s still trying to correct.

“Dancing.” I roll my shoulders back and brace for her impact.

Her eyes snap to mine. “It was pitiful. You can do better unless you’re ready to hand over your career to Angelica or Simone.”

Little does she know her threat sounds like a dream come true right now. I might have spent my entire life working up to this performance, but I’m exhausted, and her comments aren’t helping.

“You can’t rely on a rehearsal for practice.” Mom tips my chin up and focuses on the circles under my eyes, seeing straight through my makeup. “I’ve told you again and again you need to be dancing at least two hours a day.”

“That’s what I’m doing.”

“Make it three, then.” She narrows her gaze, brushing her hand over her slicked-back blonde hair to make sure not a strand is out of place. “And I’ll have Milano cut your calories by another hundred.”

“Mom—”

She pinches my side, and I wince. “You’re looking fluffy, and you’ve only got four weeks until your performance.”

“I’ve lost five pounds.” I frown.

“Either way.” She shakes her head. “Maybe you should move back into the city for the next few weeks. Galivanting in the forest is no way to prepare for the biggest show of your career. You don’t even have a proper practice space.”

“The entire living room is empty; I’ve got plenty of space to practice. We talked about this. I need some alone time to clear my head before the show.”

My fingernails dig into my palms at the thought of Mom insisting I listen to her, and I’m relieved when she doesn’t.

I’m twenty-two, so she technically shouldn’t have a say in where I live or what I do. But she’s managed my life more than she’s parented, and it’s a role she didn’t relinquish just because I grew into an adult.

Besides, we both know she could veto any of my own decisions by simply hanging the threat of my career over my head.

Or worse, she could usehimto do it for her. My spine stiffens at the thought.

Mom might not be much of a parent, but I’d like to think she’s at least invested enough to care the slightest. She’s the one who has been there every step of the way and made my career flourish. She made all my childhood dreams come true.

The trouble is that some days I wonder whose dreams they were in the first place. Not to mention, the rift chasing them formed in our relationship. Something further solidified by Dad’s death.

He was the light we shared, and when that went out, everything else did as well.

It’s been difficult, but I’ve learned to accept it. This is my life.

And it’s also why, for my own sanity, I’m not moving into the city as she wants me to. I need the clean air, the trees, and the distance. I need a little freedom to remember why it is I’m doing this.

There’s no finding that in the middle of a city.

“I’ll practice more,” I say, diverting her attention. “And Milano can update my menu starting tomorrow.”

I’m already starving and tired at the thought of it, but if it will allow me to keep what little power over this situation I have, I’ve got to make the sacrifices that will appease her.

Mom nods. “You will. And, Lili, no distractions.”

“No distractions.” I force a smile and hope it looks genuine.

I’m not sure what it’s like to actually smile anymore. The ability to feel joy faded with my loss of tears, and my body’s constant state of hunger.

Mom looks me over one final time before turning and walking away. No hug, no goodbye.

I should mind.

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