Chapter Eleven - Mommy Issues

Oh Killian, Killian!

Why can't I get you out of my head?

What is it about your eyes that has got me so mesmerized?

Why did our encounter have to be so brief?

I paced around the office with my hand on my tummy. The thought of him was making me feel like my insides were jelly. I have never felt that way before. It was bizarre and confusing. It made me feel sick. My heart was also acting a bit weird; skipping beats and doing somersaults in there. It has never done that before.

I've read about it before; the butterflies that people feel when they liked someone. I didn't really realize how overwhelming this feeling could be. Those tiny rascals playing somersaults in your belly. It was a strange, new feeling that I wasn't sure I quite liked. It made me feel weak all over and I hated feeling weak.

I should've known that man was troubled when he walked in.

I don't remember what happened in today's meeting. I think I must've agreed to everything they suggested. I wasn't thinking straight. I couldn't think at all. Luckily, Monica was there to guide them to what she thought I'd easily agree on and what would work best for this new, extraordinary issue.

The only thought that consumed my head was that of Killian. I felt so stupid. How could one encounter with an engaged man do all this to me? This wasn't me. I don't usually show interest in men unless I've carefully studied them. And even if I did show any interest, it would be momentary and it would pass the moment after. No one has ever made me feel like this before. I wasn't sure what scared me most; the thought of Killian or his effect on me?

And now not only do I have to see him at work, but he will be snapping pictures of me so that he could make money out of them. It felt so wrong. But the thought of him always lurking around was somehow exciting. Maybe I could give him a special one-on-one shoot in my bedroom. I bet there would be a few poses in there that he could personally enjoy.

There was something distressingly wrong with me.

'I'll see my daughter whenever I bloody want to see her', someone yelled outside and snapped me out of my reverie.

What the hell?

The door to my office flew open and walked in the woman who made my life a living hell.

'Is this any way to treat the woman who gave birth to you?', she shrieked as she took off her gloves and her Chanel sunglasses.

Madison walked in behind her, looking as frightened as ever.

'I tried to tell her you were busy...', she began apologizing.

'It's alright Madison. Leave us', I dismissed her.

I went to my drawer and pulled out my cheque-book. There was no need in prolonging this painful, unexpected encounter any longer.

'How much do you need?', I went straight to the point.

She looked at me in awe, but I hadn't a feeling to reciprocate.

Ever since I made a name for myself, my mother saw me as a source of income. Between all her failed marriages and boob jobs, the only time she had for her daughter was when... well, there was none.

My mother was a constant reminder for all that is wrong with the world; abandonment, betrayal and the pain of losing something you never really had.

'Why would you assume that I'm here for money?', she sounded hurt.

'Why else would you be here, Helen?'

'To see my daughter', she said firmly as she placed a loose grey lock behind her ear.

'Really? I didn't know you had one', I couldn't help but say sarcastically.

'I'm serious.'

'I'm busy', I told her in short.

The last thing I needed right now was to get into a heated argument with her. Nothing good ever comes from it. It's a waste of time and energy.

'Then make time', she persisted.

I crossed my arms and stared her dead in her eyes. She flinched in her place.

'Make time for the woman who only remembers me when she needs something? I think I'll pass', I said and made my way to my leather chair.

Her presence only brings back a lot of disturbing memories from my childhood. The voice of her yelling and screaming and calling me names still gave me nightmares sometimes. It was why I never really entertained her presence anywhere near me.

'Make time for the woman who gave you life', she said.

'And, as usual, you hold that over my head', my temper flared.

'Gen, I'm not here to fight. I'm here to make peace with you', she tried to calm me down.

Make peace with me?

This was new.

My mother has never showed interest in making peace with me before. She must be in some serious trouble. I couldn't think of any other explanation as to why she would be this friendly. I was scared out of my wits.

'What's going on?', I asked slowly, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

'Nothing, I just think it's time for us to bond for a change', she said chirpily as she took a seat opposite me.

My mother, despite her age, always enjoyed dressing in pink. She wore a baby pink pencil skirt and jacket and had a satin scarf tied around her neck. Her fashionably grey hair, which seemed like it needed another dye, was tied up so that she could show off the bling-bling on her ears.

I looked at her for a moment; assessing the situation. Something wasn't right here. She wasn't acting like the bitchy, hard-hearted woman I knew. There was something completely off about her.

'Are you on something?', I whispered, remembering the time she thought smoking weed was fun.

'Why, what do you mean?', she was taken aback.

'You're different. Weird. What's up with you?'

'Well, if you would answer my calls more frequently you would know what was "up" with me', she said as she made air quotes then took a sip of water from the cup that Killian didn't touch.

Killian, he seemed so far away now; a forgotten dream.

'What is up with you, Helen?', I asked again between gritted teeth.

I knew my mother wouldn't get out of here unless she said what she had to say. She also enjoyed taking her sweet time, always wanting to be the center of attention and all. I was in no mood to entertain her, least of all today. The faster I get her out of here, the better.

'I know I haven't exactly been the best of mothers to you. It's the only thing in my life that I ever really regretted. So, I decided that I want another go at it', she said as she interlaced her fingers out of nervousness.

That, by far, had to be her Oscar-winning performance.

I couldn't help but snort.

This was the lady who's missed every piano recital and scholastic decathlon, both my high school and college graduation. This was the lady who let her ex-boyfriend, Byron Casley, wreck my car because she dumped him for the next piece of hot-dog she could find. Now she wanted a second chance to amend all that she has broken?

Somehow I had a hard time believing that. No one changes overnight, especially not my mother.

'You're thirty-five years late, but I appreciate the gesture. Is that all?'

She slouched with disappointment.

'It's never too late', she murmured.

'It is with me.'

'I told my therapist you would say that. I promised her that I would talk to you regardless of how you'd react and let go of these feelings that were holding me back and I have', she spoke more to herself than to me.

'Good for you', I sighed as I went through my e-mail.

'There's one more thing I must tell you', she added.

My head began to throb.

'And what might that be?', I sounded irritated.

'I really do want another chance at motherhood', she said after a long pause.

I rubbed my temples.

'Didn't we already go over that? Thank, but no thanks', my voice rose a few octaves.

'Genevieve, I'm pregnant.'