Page 15 of Just for Fun
“Yeah.” I sigh again. “We’ll see what happens with that.” I have already made up my mind that I’m not going if thisHolidatesdeal falls through.
“It’ll be good for you, Zara.” She almost sounds like she’s chastising me. “There is life beyond you coming to see me every time you have time off.”
A knot forms in the back of my throat. “I thought you enjoyed that.”
She’s never indicated that I wasn’t welcome back. It became out tradition, something I heavily relied on. It gave me the stability I always seemed to crave.
“Zara, you know I always love seeing you, honey,” mom tells me. “But God forbid something happened to me, I need to know you would be able to go on with your life.”
My eyes fill with instant tears. “What’s wrong?”
My mother has been my rock over the years. Just the thought of something being wrong with her makes me sick to my stomach.
“There’s nothing wrong,” she tells me. “I promise.”
“Mom…”
“Zara,” she says, her tone firm. “Everything is fine. But I am so worried about you, my girl.”
I frown in confusion. “Why are you worried about me?”
Now, it is her turn to sigh, and I don’t know what to make of this.
“I’ve always fought for you kids to have the best life I could give you,” she starts.
“You did give us the best life, mom,” I rush to assure her, but she’s not done with me.
“In doing so,” she continues, “I fear that I might have encouraged all your phobias.”
I am at a complete loss. “I don’t have any phobias.”
“You are terrified of forming a meaningful connection with anyone new,” she informs me very matter-of-factly. “It’s called phobia of commitment. And I blame both myself and your father for that one.”
My lips tremble as I try to come up with something to say that would convince her that she’s wrong.
“You were so little when he left,” mom continues. “I tried to make up for him not being there for you. In doing that, I coddled you to the point where I don’t think you are capable of being in a relationship.”
I sniffle in my hand. “I don’t need to be in a relationship, mom. I’m happy on my own.”
“I know, honey.” She sounds much more emotional now. “But you’ve never experienced the kind of love a partner could give you.”
She is right about that. And, I have to be honest with myself and admit that I often wonder what that would be like. But she’s right. I am scared of it, terrified even.
“You had a partner who you thought loved you,” I remind her. “It didn’t end well.”
She chuckles at that, like she was expecting for me to bring it up.
“It gave me you and Owen,” she says in a much softer voice. “I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world. I don’t regret one minute of it.”
My mother has always been the most affectionate person I know. She never hid how much she loved me and my brother, nor did she ever spoke badly about our father, despite all the wrong he did to her. Now I wonder if she’s telling me all this because deep down, she might regret having put her life on hold to raise us.
“Do you wish you had a boyfriend after dad left?” I force myself to ask.
“Well…” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I had my hands full at the time. I wouldn’t have been able to focus on another relationship.” She pauses for a second. “But now I can. And I do.”
“You do what?” It’s like she speaks to me in riddles.
“I do have a boyfriend,” she confesses. “I love every second of it. And I’ve been hiding it from you for a while.”
