Romans & histoires Cosas Que Nunca Hable Con Mi Madre

“You two need to stop talking to my mother. If she has something to say to me, let her say it to me herself.” Only that she can’t. She’s not allowed here and I’ve blocked her on every channel possible.

Hollis I take a full step back from Candace before my brain catches up with my body. We were supposed to go try to get some of the staff on our side today—and if the idea appealed, maybe have a private lunch in the kitchen, without all the pressure of a formal meal. Talking about Mother is… not exactly the opposite but far from what I was hoping for. I don’t talk about Mother to anyone. A few days after the funeral, Eva asked me if I was sad, and I told her never to ask me that again. She hasn’t broken that rule since. I have no map for conversations like this.

“Don’t you ever say those words out of your mouth again, or you won’t like what I do, do you understand me?” “Whatever.” She replied, rolling her eyes before walking out. I stood still in the middle of the room, thinking back to her words. Could I really admit that I was so scared to discuss such a topic with my own mother? I stagger onto the chair, laughing hysterically at myself. “What a pity.”

Maya said. They talked for another half hour. Small things mostly. Her mother's house, the neighbours, a cousin who had moved, things that had changed and things that hadn't. Normal things. The most normal conversation Maya had been part of in over a year and every word of it felt like water after being thirsty a long time. When they finally said goodnight her mother said, "Maya." "Yeah," Maya said. "Don't you ever do that again," her mother said. "Don't you ever disappear on me like that again."

If eyes could kill, her glare would have left me in pieces. I looked at her calmly, "Do you even know why I gave up my dream of being a lawyer and joined the entertainment industry instead?" My mom frowned as she tried to recall the past. She bit her lip when she remembered. "Why do you hate me?"

this man has somehow become the person I look for first. Later that night, Mom wakes up while I'm helping her drink water. She's quieter than usual, thoughtful. I remember the anonymous message from the vineyard. *Ask your mother why she never talks about your father.* Maybe it's nothing. Maybe it's stupid. Maybe…… "Mom?" "Yes, sweetheart?" I stared at the water glass for a second before shrugging. "Random question." Maria smiled. "Those are usually dangerous." "Did my father ever like flowers?" The smile vanished immediately.

“Max, I'm not in the mood to argue at the moment; I have a lot on my mind.” "Like what?" I asked her. "It's nothing. Stupid stuff, I guess," she sighed. "Well it's not stupid if it's bothering you this much," I told her. "Maybe it will make you feel better if you talk to someone about it." "I did. I spoke to Brenda about it earlier, and she didn't make me feel any better." "Is there someone else you can speak to about this?" "Yes," she answered. "My mother, but this is about her, so I can't talk to her about it."

It was from my mother. *We need to talk. Tonight. No excuses.* I clenched my jaw, already knowing what this was about. My mother didn’t reach out often unless it was something important. And whenever she did, it usually meant bad news. I exhaled slowly and texted back: *I’ll be there.*

but I am fine. Doctor Angela sighed, "I’m sure you’re fine, but can I offer one piece of advice? You don’t even have to pay for it." "Sure." I replied, not wanting to insult the woman. "Talk to your mother. Like a real conversation. Tell her what losing your dad was like for you. She can handle it." I wasn’t going to do that. Me and my mom weren’t talking much at all. She was still angry about my behavior during the party, and I had been avoiding her.

I chuckled as I shook my head, “She’s worried I would tell the world about what she did to me.” Theodore asked, “I know I’m going to regret asking, but what did she do to you?” I answered, “You really don’t want to know and, to be honest, I would rather not go there right now. It wouldn’t do any good anyway.” He asked, “Do you want me to continue speaking with her?” I shrugged my shoulders and sighed, “That’s up to you. I’m not going to tell you not to.” My last conversation with my mother was the straw that broke the camel’s back for me.