Chapter 11

GINNY. After a wonderful shift with May and a generally pleasant day, the last thing or more appropriately person I expect to see at my apartment is my mother. "Enough is enough." She says barely glancing at me as she drops the saucer and cup on top of my foldable table. My jaw works and it takes every decorum lesson I've learned to keep my fucking cool. At this point, I know how she operates, I can't let her get to me so easily. I fold my arms, my voice is as low-pitched as I can make it. "This is trespassing. Hell, it's breaking and entry." This accusation doesn't bother her. At my mother's age and with the influence she has gathered as the Black Widow, not much fazes her. Mother lifts an immaculate eyebrow at me, her eye finally settling on me and looking at my outfit with more disdain than I knew was possible for a person to have in one glance. I suddenly feel inadequate in my messy ratty low ponytail, jeans and casual shirt compared to her designer pantsuit and her tastefully styled shoulder-length hair. Mother's voice drips with disdain when she finally decides to respond to me. "I have given you far too much time to get over this phase of yours. Not anymore." Her words hurt me more than a stab wound. Probably. All my years of independence are simply termed 'a phase'. Years of breaking free of that life and not going back even when the goings had gotten tougher. A phase. This time, my cultured voice slips and my anger cannot be held back. "When will you understand that I want to work for myself instead of inheriting your money?!" Something flickers in those eyes that are a replica of mine but are so cold and unfamiliar at the same time. Mother raps her fingers against the plasticky table giving off a hollow sound. "You say it with so much disdain." Her cultured tone is slipping too and I am weirdly glad that she's not the only one who's gotten under my skin. "This money helped train you in the most lavish schools." Right. Our money. Or more appropriately, her money. When I spoke of her as the black widow it wasn't just a dude nickname, it was the truth. My mother, born in the most mid of the middle classes with not a penny to her name, but with a pretty face and a more vicious mind, had built her empire with her blood and sweat. She decided rather early that she wanted no part of the pathetic life her parents lived of being middle-class people who would never be known. Who would work until their later years then settle down with their families and live their quiet insignificant lives. Mother married her first husband at nineteen, he was her boss in her college internship program. She divorced him before she was out of college taking a large percentage of his properties and investing them. I am the daughter of her third and half husband and her only child. People say she really loved my Dad. That was why she had me. I am not so sure some days. Some days. As for sending me to the most expensive schools, I was a child. What else could I do but go? I refuse to be bullied because of that into doing what I have zero intention of doing. I face her resolutely. "I never asked you for any of that. That's why I left and you can't make me go back." Back to the life of empty smiles and empty promises. That life that was as pretentious as it was materialistic. A life where I always had to put on a mask and be so fucking pleasant. I love my life now. My life of being goofy with May, hanging out till late with people I actually gave a shit about, wearing whatever I wanted without having eating disorders just to look perfect all the time. Mother must see the determination in my eyes because her demeanor shifts slightly, moving away from her forced politeness to full-blown aggression. "I have invested too much in you for you to waste your life away mixing with riffraff." This is Mother for you. She would see me refusing to walk in her footsteps as a betrayal and mingling with the 'riff-raff'. Mother would refuse to understand that I was glad that we had that money. I didn't feel ashamed that we were stinky rich. But more than that, I was glad that the need for more wouldn't push me to make the same decision signs she had made. Her money had given me enough leeway to realize what I wanted for myself. My calm returned and I pointed to my door feeling cooler than I'd felt in a long time. "Please leave. I don't want to repeat myself." Mother stands up without an argument and my jaw nearly drops to the ground in surprise. Then I am instantly suspicious. Why isn't she arguing? Mother is in front of me before I can think about it too much and her best words rock my world. "I'm dying." "What?" I pause. The world slows and I forget to breathe. This is impossible. I refuse to believe it. But this close, I can see the resignation on her face. The fine lines on her face have never looked so pronounced and when I look at her eyes, I don't see understated arrogance. I see my mom and she looks tired. Her hands, which have never felt so fragile yet strong, wrap around mine, her eyes locked on mine and her voice low and insistent. "I want us to stay together with whatever time I have left." My heart breaks and tears fill my eyes. "Mom, why didn't you tell me?" All this time we had spent apart. It didn't seem to be like she was just finding out about it. She wasn't. Mother had just chosen to keep it from me. Why? I have never heard her sound so remorseful in my entire life. "You were always fighting me, Ginny. I didn't know how to tell you." So she had come over to yell at me instead because that was what we were so used to. I am a bad daughter but I don't intend to anymore. "I'm sorry, Mom." I hug her. It feels stiff and uncomfortable at first then she relaxes into my hug and it is beautiful. So beautiful that I want to do it again. Then my mom pulls away, the grief in her eyes gone and replaced with a cunning many have underestimated. "Before I die, I want to see you married. Properly." I am done with this. How can she be thinking of wedding alliances? Now of all times? "Mom, not this again?!" She doesn't back down. It's as though hearing she was going to die sent her into an overdrive where she wanted to get everything she wanted done as soon as possible. Mother holds on to me tight. "I want you to have what I did not. Having money isn't enough. You must be in the right family as well." Mother is talking about old money. Because for all the money that she has, she would never be allowed in some circles, never land some deals because we weren't born into a rich family. We are the new rich, despite the fact that we have been so for decades. But is this really worth it? Is me getting married into a high-class old moneyed household what she needs right now on her deathbed? "Mom–" She shakes her head softly, her eyes firmly settled on mine. "Don't deny me this." I should say no anyway. She is manipulating me. But she is dying. If I don't make amends now, when will I? I nod once feeling like I have been caught in a trap. "Alright." My mother's face lights up and she hugs me for what has to be the second time in a long time. She doesn't look sick as she tells me animatedly about a party that she has managed to snag an invitation to. It is apparently a very exclusive event where I will meet my potential groom. All those years of hard work gone down the drain like that and when I look in the mirror it even feels like I have changed already. No, I refuse to do that. Refuse to become a stranger. I can remain the person I have become without slipping back to who I was in the past. I reach for my phone. "Hey." May seems relaxed. I wonder how she will react to this secret I have been keeping. "Hey, stranger, what's up?" I smile. "Feel like gatecrashing a fancyass party?" May pauses and I can hear her unspoken laughter. "How many shots have you had?" I laugh for both of us. "Enough to lose it." My voice is more serious when I ask, "Will you come?" "Tell me where." I hope our friendship can come out of this intact.