When Your Mother Doesn't Novels & Stories

She kept talking about how she would spend the two thousand dollars just on me. When I did not respond, she assumed I was sulking. Her tone began to change. “Anna, I already said I’m sorry! What else do you want from me? Are you seriously going to ignore me forever? Stop sulking, okay?” I drifted beside her and said, “Mom.” She could not hear a thing. Mom had a prideful temper. She was not going to keep begging. She walked away and joined a card game. It was not until midnight, just before the fireworks, that she came to knock on the door again.

The fire I'd managed to suppress for the past few days suddenly reignited in my crotch, and I felt like I had to finish what I hadn't managed to finish with her that day. "I've been feeling terrible these past few days, Mom, but Rina won't even let me touch her… I really can't take it anymore… "Do you think I'll eventually die if my condition continues worsening like this?" I asked, looking at her with an aggrieved expression.

Frank sighed, “Sonia, you’ve always been the strong one. Why lose hope now?” “Who did I offend?” She whispered bitterly. “Don’t do this to yourself,” Frank pleaded. “Why wouldn’t I? She burst out, her voice cracking. “I saw the joy on Rose’s face tonight. Don’t you think I want the same? Am I ever going to be a mother?” “Don’t pressure yourself, Frank said gently. You’ve been like a mother to Tyler. You’ve helped raise him.” “Tyler is not mine, Frank! Don’t you get it?” She snapped. “I love T, but he’s not my child.”

“How could you not want me anymore?” She was trying to awaken something in me. Maternal instinct.Guilt.Love. But all I felt—Was clarity.

We have rented this boat and will camp on this weird island we found on g****e maps. "Good morning." I don't look up at the sound of my mother's voice. She enters the kitchen, wrapped in her dressing-gown and thick eyelashes draped with yesterday's makeup. She brings my thoughts to that song "Prom Queen" by Molly Kate Kestner. My father is no longer in the picture, and my mother sleeps around with younger men, and the guys probably only stick around for her money. I can't see anyone falling for her because my mother lacks a soul. She drowns her sadness with vodka, and a little piece of her soul dies every time she opens a new bottle.

Valerie raised a brow. “Is it possible for anyone not to have a mommy?” Audrey asked with tears circulated in her eyes, and Valerie swallowed hard. “Huh? Of course not. Everyone has a mother, there's no one who has no mother” Valerie commented. Audrey smiled dryly, and sniffed a little before saying, “Does that mean I'm the only one who doesn't have a mother in this world? I think I'm the only one who has a father with no mother”. “What? Listen, Audrey, there's no way you won't have a mother. I'm sure daddy has his reasons for telling you whatever he must have told you” Valerie kissed her fist.

The truth about your mother. Anne’s breath caught in her throat as she continued reading, her eyes widening in disbelief. *Your mother didn’t die in childbirth as you were told. She left. She betrayed your father and chose a different life, a life of fame and fortune. She became a celebrity, someone who valued the spotlight more than her family. Your father did everything he could to shield you from the pain of knowing that she abandoned you. He wanted you to grow up feeling loved and secure, without the burden of her choices.*

"My wife and I have a contract—" "Tell me about your mother," Dr. Morrison interrupted. "I came here because of my wife." "And your mother left when you were how old?" Matthew stopped. Set his jaw. Decided he didn't like this approach. "Twelve," he said flatly. "And I don't see how that's relevant." "Your wife left you yesterday," Dr. Morrison said calmly. "Your mother left you thirty-one years ago. Tell me you don't see the pattern." Matthew didn't respond. He looked out the window at the city, at all the people living lives where their parents didn't abandon them and then they didn't spend three decades learning to control everything as a way to make sure it never happened again.

Enzir brushed away her teacher’s hand angrily and said, “But I don’t need a mother!” “Everyone needs a mother, little Enzir,” said the teacher. “Whenever you find yourself alone and feeling bad, you would feel that your mother is always watching over you and taking care of you.” Young Enzir had pouted and looked at her teacher like she was crazy. “I don’t need a mother!” he repeated before running away.

This was not a thing. It was not okay. I pushed that feeling I put it back in its box. I locked the box. I buried it. I tried to ignore it. Then I said to my mother "You are not taking me anywhere." My mother said, "Then listen carefully." Finally, we were getting somewhere. My mother looked at the stairwell. She was listening. She was thinking. Time was important. It probably did matter. This was annoying. My mother said, "Your father was never supposed to die."