Page 42 of Worth Every Moment
“Why you ungrateful little…” Mum’s footsteps rattle down the stairs behind me. “You do realise that without me, you wouldn’t be who you are now?”
“Yes. You’ve told me.” I open the door to the street and pass outside. The breeze is a welcome change from the stifling heat of the consulting rooms.
I keep walking, not knowing where I’m going, Mum running along behind me. The urge to turn and scream at her builds in my chest, bolstered by a fog of anger. I need to get away from her before I lose it.
“You should be grateful I’m taking such an interest in you,” she calls out.
I spin to her. “Ishould be grateful thatyoutook an interest in me? In your only child?” It comes out louder and harsher than I intend, with years of resentment and repressed rage bubbling up behind it. But I no longer care that people might recognise me or hear what I’m saying. Mum’s expression turns brittle, and an unpleasant tingling heat spreads out from my heart, but I force myself to speak despite how fast my pulse is racing. “Do you even like me? Because it doesn’t feel like you do.”
“Of course Ilikeyou.” Each word is simultaneously clipped and over-exaggerated, the implication that I’m being ridiculous all too clear. “I love you. I want the best for you.”
“Then why do you keep trying to change me?”
Mum rests a hand on her hip, stepping a little closer to me and glancing around like she’s checking who’s watching.She’s still thinking about the fucking brand.“You know what I’m seeing here, Erica?” Her voice is cool and level. “I’m seeing judgment. Millions of women have breast implants. Why do you think you’re better than they are?”
“I don’t. You’re not listening. I don’t have a problem with breast implants. If you want them, have at it. Get them as big as you want. What I do have a problem with is not being able tochoose. It’s my body.” My voice breaks. “My body,” I repeat, and it sounds pathetic. I loathe that she’s reduced me to this. “I want to choose. For once, I want to choose. Why is that not enough?”
“Settling is not a life choice. I wantperfectionfor you. No one can hurt you if you’re perfect, Erica.No one.The more beautiful you are, the safer you are. I’m protecting you.”
This is so warped.Those creepers wind around me, dragging me under where I can’t understand what’s real or right, but I fight against it.“I’m fine. I’m fine as I am.” I try to sound confident, but I don’t feel it.Maybe I’m not fine. Maybe I need all the diets, the exercise, the salon appointments, the physical trainers. Maybe I need plastic surgery too.
“Fine isn’t good enough,” Mum says. “You didn’t get to beErica Lefroybecause I settled for ‘fine’.”
I can’t make myself heard. Nothing will get through. I shouldn’t have come to this stupid appointment because I was never going to go through with it, but I was too afraid to say no. Nothing I think or feel matters, because to the outside world, it looks like I have everything, and to my mother, I’llneverbe good enough.
A cruel longing rises in me as I stand in the street, staring at the woman who raised me. Why couldn’t I have had a mother who loved me forme? Instead, I have one who critiques me and changes me and makes me into what she thinks the world wants to see, rejecting every aspect of me that doesn’t meet her exacting standards.
I don’t know who I am without all of that. I am so lost. And now I’m yelling at her in the street.In public. People are looking. People are looking because she turned me intoErica Lefroyand now I can’t walk outside without being recognised.
“You need to take a long, hard look at yourself, young lady,” Mum hisses. “You owe me everything. Your fame. Your fortune. Your career. I got you that big break, dragging your portfolio toArthur Knatchbull and making him see you. That’s what got you here. My grit and determination. Without me, you’d be nothing. How do you have the nerve to walk out of an appointment like that and tell me I did the wrong thing? When I’m the one who built you up? Imadeyou. Iownyou.”
The urge to cry rises up my throat. I’m choking on it. Sheownsme? It’s always felt that way, but hearing her say it aloud is new. To know that sheactuallysees me that way changes my reality in an instant. The awful thing is, that while I hate it, I know Mum has a point. I wouldn’t be where I am without her. She drove me to this high. Always pushing, pushing, pushing. Greedy for more. And it got us a really long way.
Us.
“I hate you. I really fucking hate you.” I put out my hand, curling my fingers. “The keys to my apartment. Give them back.”
“Erica—”
“I’m serious. You can’t let yourself into my life whenever you want anymore.”
“This is pathetic. I’m surprised at you, stooping this low.” She digs into her bag as though she’s trying to find my keys. “I wasn’t going to do this, but now I will.” She pulls out a newspaper, flashing it at me. “I always know best. I knew those tiny breasts would hold you back.” She flaps a hand at my chest, which feels as though it cracks in half at the dismissive way she gestures towards it.
“What are you talking about?”
She thrusts the article at me, and I glimpse the headline. ‘Erica Lefroy, the world’s least sexy supermodel’ before she pulls it back.
“They saw you buying a copy of thatTaming the Beastbook, so now it’s all the gossip that you’re trying out for the movie. And to make it worse, one of your old audition tapes has been leaked.It breaks my heart to say it, but you are a terrible actress, Erica. Completely wooden.”
I take a step back from her. People are passing us by on either side, staring in that way people do when they think they recognise you. A hard stare. The ‘Where do I know you from?’ stare. It’s difficult to concentrate on Mum, knowing people are watching.
Mum flaps the newspaper again and starts quoting from the article. “‘Breasts so small they might as well be inverted’.” She smiles as though this insult delights her. I freeze, my throat growing so choked up I can hardly breathe.I’m going to cry.
“How on earth do you expect to become a movie star when the papers are talking about you like this?” Her eyes dip back to the paper. “‘Completely devoid of sex appeal’.They call you anIce Queen. I could have protected you from this if you’d only shared your aspirations with me. If you hadn’t hidden this desire to shift into the movies. We could have sorted out your breasts long ago. I only want the best for you, Erica. I want to give you everything so that you can fly. And look at you now.” She wafts the paper up and down my form. “So near the top. So close to being a superstar, and you’ll fall at the final hurdle because you won’t go through with that surgery.” She raises a shoulder in a tiny shrug. “It’s just a little cut here and there.”
I raise a trembling hand, my voice quavering just as much. “It’s not just a little cut. It’s you saying, yet again, that I’m not good enough. That there’s something wrong with me. What kind of mother does that? What kind of mother says—”
“Well.” She cuts me off with a disgruntled breath. “I’m glad you’ve got all that off your chest. Making your poor mother feel guilty. No one else will look out for you the way I do. No one cares as much as I do. How you can be so cruel to me, I don’t understand.”
