Page 27 of Love Medley
And the fact she noticed hits me hard. But she obviously had to have a reason for doing those things for me—the therapy andthe piano lessons. Perhaps she was more perceptive than I gave her credit for. Maybe she wasn’t able to express her love for me in ways I could appreciate back then—like hugs and smiles.
But I see it now.
The realization batters against my carefully constructed armor—fear and hope warring equally in my chest. It’s so risky to expect anything from my family. In some ways, it’s easier to keep that door closed, keep the lid on that box and bury it deep.
“Your father tends to be hard on all of you,” she continues. “And while I may not voice my observations of you at the time, I do take note.”
My eyes sting unexpectedly hearing her words. From my mother, so composed and even, this admission is huge.
When I dialed, I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d say. What she’d say.
At first, I just wanted to hear my mother’s voice. But what will happen if I open that door between us just a crack?
If I don’t, I’ll always wonder.
“I want to thank you,” I say finally.
Her voice is surprised. “To thank me?”
I’ve opened the door, and now I need to step through. “Yes. Even though Dad would have disapproved, you still got me the piano lessons and set me up with Nina. Music comforts me. It gives me a way to express myself. And from Nina, I learned how to calm myself when I was stressed. ”
I pause. Bringing up Lucy is a bigger leap than I’d intended for this phone call, but the words come out anyway. “In fact, I was able to teach someone else one of the techniques that Nina taught me.A woman was having a panic attack during one of my shifts, and I guided her through it.” Another beat. “I may not have said it at the time, but I appreciate you doing those things for me.”
Something breaks loose as I speak. I don’t usually say things like this to anyone in my family. It’s always felt too fucking risky. But even though I have no control over how she’ll react, I don’t regret speaking the words out loud.
My mother is silent for a moment. “As you know, I came from old money in Boston. When I met your father, he was always intimidated by my family’s wealth and high standing in society.”
I’ve never met my grandparents on my mom’s side, probably because of the bad blood between them and my parents. I know some of my parents’ backstory, but not all of it, and they rarely speak of it. Because of this, I’m undeniably curious.
Even though this call is heavier than I expected, I want to know more.
“Your father wasn’t from the same background as I was. His parents were blue-collar workers who died in a factory accident right as he graduated high school. After their death, he put himself through college and business school, and that’s when I met him. Regardless of how smart and hardworking your father was, my parents were dead set against me marrying him. He was determined to prove to them that he could amass his own fortune and keep me in the lifestyle I was accustomed to. He thought if he accomplished this, then they would embrace him into the family.”
It doesn’t escape me—the irony that my father was once in the same position I’m finding myself in now. Longing for someone out of his league. But in his case, she returned his feelings.
My mother sighs. “But new money is not the same as old money, and my parents didn’t care about how much he could eventually earn. They told me I would be disowned if I insisted on marrying him, this boy from the wrong side of the tracks. Obviously, I married your father, and we’re here in Missouri, and they’re still in Boston. I haven’t talked to them since.
“When we got to Blackwell, your father was successful because he astutely got into agriculture and manufacturing early on. Business was booming, and we did well. But he was desperate to change my parents’ minds and worked himself to the bone, becoming a shadow of the man I used to know. I just wanted the man who had swept me off my feet back then.”
Nothing she’s saying is recognizable to me. I can’t imagine my father being anything even close to romantic.
“Then the stock market crashed in 1987—before any of you were born—and your father changed, not in a good way. We lost not everything, but almost. He had to rebuild his businesses from the ground up. Because he was terrified that this could happen again, he became obsessed with you boys making your own fortunes in case we didn’t have anything to pass on to you.”
“Wait… what?” I’m flummoxed by the idea that my father ever had a period of uncertainty.
“You didn’t know. He never wanted any of you to know. But that’s part of the reason he’s been so hard on all of you. He’s terrified that you’ll end up with nothing.”
Frustration builds inside of me. This is all due to some…misguided fear? “But he’s the one who cut me off. It’s not like I’m unemployed.”
My mother sounds resigned. “I know it’s not rational, but he means well. But you rattle him because you’ve always walked your own path, and he’s never known what to do about that. And honestly? You probably remind him of himself.”
I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “We’re nothing alike.”
A small chuckle. “Actually—you’re more alike than you think. He used to lead with his heart over his head. He’s just… out of touch with the man that he once was.”
I’m reeling—the fact my mother thinks I’m anything like my father? It’s ludicrous. All of this is too much to comprehend.
Overwhelmed, I blurt out, “I tried for a really long time to make him proud, but eventually, I realized I’m just not the same as Sterling and Wyatt. It just made more sense to stop trying.”
