Chelsea

“When are you going to tell him, Chelsea?” Dottie’s voice was elevated, although it wasn’t in anger. She simply didn’t want me to face raising a child on my own.

“I already told you.” I struggled to remain calm. I’d repeated this same thing so many times I was tired of hearing myself talk, all because Dottie refused to listen to reason. “I’m not going to put that on him before he goes to Paris.”

“Why is his relationship with another woman more important than his responsibility to his child?” She wouldn’t let this go. I couldn’t tell if it had more to do with my own mother having walked away from my father, or her desire to resurrect her relationship with her child, or a million other things. All I knew was that her constant pushing me to do what she thought was right suffocated me.