Page 104 of Sunshine
Mona lowers herself into the armchair next to me and sets her elbows on her knees, hands hugging her steaming mug. “What happened?”
I wipe away a sniffle with the back of my hand. “Dylan and I…”
Mona shakes her head like she knows whatever I’ve done is going to be a huge disappointment. “Oh, Penelope.”
“We’ve been seeing each other in secret,” I admit. “Sneaking around behind Daisy’s back. Before we could come clean, she overheard me talking to Izzy’s mom about it. And I said so many stupid things. How much I love Dylan. How I’ve always loved him.Dammit.”
I drop my phone beside me and hide my face behind my hands. “What was I thinking? Dylan doesn’t even know that. I’ve never told anyone. But now Daisy knows I’ve been lying to her forever, and she wants nothing to do with me. I’ve ruined everything.”
“Oh, honey.” Mona sits back in the armchair, and her silk dressing gown falls open as she crosses one long leg over another. “You haven’t ruinedeverything. You’re human. You made a mistake. And Daisy loves you. She’ll come around.”
I raise my head and glare, her detachment from my pain making it hurt even more, and all my insecurities crash over me at once.
“Why did you have me?” I demand.
Mona’s brow creases. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re not like other mothers. You’ve never been like other mothers. Some days, I wonder if you ever wanted a child. So why? Why did you have me?”
“What’s this about?”
“Just answer the question.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her gray-green eyes so much like mine shining with hurt as I fall apart inside until I’m convinced she’s got no answer for me. But then she leans across and takes my hand. Or tries to. My fingers are motionless in hers.
“Because I did want to be a mother. And I wanted you.”
In my current state of mind, with all my fears and inadequacies bubbling to the surface and knowing for the first time in my life I can’t run away, I can’t make myself believe her.
I choke back a broken laugh. “Nobody’s ever wanted me. Not really. Not permanently. Not by choice.”
“You can’t think that.” Mona’s throat works in a swallow, and her eyelashes flutter with rapid blinking. “It’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? My father never cared about me. You were always so distracted that I felt like an afterthought. Wade was an asshole who treated me like garbage—and I let him because I didn’t know to ask for more. Every family I’ve ever worked for has let me leave without a second thought about where I was going next. And Daisy—Daisy—is going to wipe me from her life completely because even though Dylan is as much to blame for what happened between us, I’m the disposable one. I’m not blood. I’m not family. I’m not anybody. Not anymore.”
Mona is silent, the apartment feels eerily calm, and a single tear falls down each of my mother’s cheeks. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m so tapped out on emotion—guilt and fear and self-loathing—that I’m throwing punches at the closest target. And she doesn’t deserve it.
“Mona—”
“You say I’m not like other mothers?” Mona interrupts. “You’re right. I’m not. And maybe—no, definitely—I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve always done my best. I’ve always tried to do what I thought was best for you.”
“Mom. I’m sorry. You don’t have to explain. I’m disappointed in myself. Not you.”
“No. I think you are disappointed in me. And that’s okay. I didn’t think I had to explain myself, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I assumed an understanding between us that was never really there.”
“An understanding?”
“Yes.” Mona drops her head back, looking through the ceiling like she’s weighing up her options, then with a deep breath, she pats my hand. “You know a little about my upbringing. You know my parents were strict, I lived in a very conservative neighborhood, and I ran away from home when I was sixteen.”
I frown and intuitively tighten my fingers around hers. “Yes.”
“What you don’t know is they weren’t just strict. They were abusive. My father abused my mother. They both abused me. Mentally. Emotionally. Sometimes physically.”
My stomach turns as bile burns the back of my throat. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t supposed to have any idea. These are my demons—not yours. But my childhood… It was not a happy one. My parents criticized everything I did. Every word. Every action. Every friend. Every grade. Every dress and shoe and hairstyle. Nothing happened in my life that they didn’t judge, and if they disapproved of a single one, I was punished. It was not a nice way to grow up.”
I’m suddenly grateful I don’t know my grandparents. Mona doesn’t often talk about them, and there were many times when I was young that I wished they were around, but these aren’t people I want in my life. “It sounds awful.”
