Page 112 of We Were Something
“Why? Because she’s so much younger than you?”
I blink again.
“She gave me a laundry list of all the reasons she thought I might not like her,” my mom says, a laugh falling from her lips, “but then she told me all the reasons why I should give her a chance. And Logan? It was very compelling.”
“Yeah, Paige is great.” My words come out with a bite because I’m starting to get irritated. “But there are just…too many circumstances working against us, alright? And it wouldn’t be fair to her to…” I trail off, gritting my teeth and pushing an angry breath out through my nose.
“What isn’t fair is pushing someone away because you think you know what’s best for them,” she tells me.
“That’s not—”
“Is Paige better off without you?” she asks me.
“Obviously.”
“Why?”
I stand, shoving my hand through my hair. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I want you to see that you’re not Paige’s doctor.”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“You’re not Paige’s doctor,” she says again. “You don’t get to look at all the circumstances and make a decision for her based on whatyouthink is best. That’s what you do, because you’re so used to it and because you’re so good at it. But she’s not a patient, baby. She’s your partner. The person you make decisionswith, notfor.”
I pace the room, wishing I were brave enough to tell my mother to shut up, because the last thing I need is someone trying to convince me I made a mistake by breaking up with the woman I love. It needs to be okay that I let her go. It needs to be…
“So tell me: why is Paige better off without you?”
Scraping my hand across my beard, I let out a frustrated breath.
“She’s young and deserves to live a life that isn’t burdened by me and all my baggage.”
“Did you talk to her about that baggage? About whatever it is you’re so convinced she would see as a burden?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Logan. Why?”
“Because she would have no problem with it,” I say, my voice growing loud as my anger at this fucked-up situation finally boils over. “She’d be fine with it, and I don’t want her to have to sacrifice her happiness for me.”
My mother’s eyes cut into me.
“The greatest gift you can be given is a chance to sacrifice for someone you love.”
My shoulders fall at her remark. I lick my lips, my throat suddenly dry, as I realize what she’s telling me, my eyes growing watery at the implication behind her words.
My mother spent her entire life sacrificing for me, bending over backward, working extra jobs, figuring out ways to support and encourage me when it was just her. Just us.
As soon as I was able, I tried to pay her back. Tried to take away some of that burden she shouldered by being a single mother and handling everything on her own.
But maybe it wasn’t as much of a burden as I’ve always assumed it was. Maybe she saw it completely differently.
“I was never more happy in my life than in the moments where I chose to put you first,” she continues. “And that happiness was so much more satisfying than any fun experience or bit of freedom I would have had if I’d never had you.”
