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Mom sags into her chair at the table as I place the cake in the center of the confetti. “I just… I don’t know where I went wrong as a mother.”
Cold dread runs across my skin.
Ollie sighs. “Right here is where she’s going wrong.”
My heart jumps, and I look at him.
“She’s raised one beautiful, kind, and intelligent daughter alongside one confident enough to follow her beliefs, no matter how outrageous they seem in the world she knows. Right here? Right here where she thinks her definition of success is the only applicable one…that’s where she’s going wrong.” His eyes meet mine, distress darkening the irises. “Being a parent isn’t about obedience or control. Being a parent is about supporting someone so they can become the best parts of whoever they are. It’s agreeing to hurt when your child makes a mistake you warned them about, and it’s also agreeing to let mistakes happen without making them impossible to heal from.”
My throat closes. “But how do you get someone to understand that?”
“Sometimes you can’t. Other times, you just tell them your truth and hope it finds its way out past the back of your tongue.”
Mom lifts her attention to me, then looks toward Ollie, eyes unfocused. “What…” Something restarts in Mom’s brain, and she turns toward the cake. “Is it lemon?”
“Yes,” I say, voice small. “Sorry. It wept a little.”
“It’ll taste the same.” She clasps my hand. “Please, consider your options. You have so many.”
“I’m…happy in Mountain Vale. I’m not too far from family.” I may be closer than I know if Ollie teaches me how to use faerie paths. “I’m figuring things out, Mom. You can’t live my life for me.”
“I just want you to learn the things I have sooner.”
My gaze drifts toward Ollie again. “I think…maybe I’m learning different things instead. All I need to know is that I can count on you when I ask for help, not while I’m still in the middle of making my own decisions. Does that…make sense?”
She sighs. “Alana.”
“Hm?” Alana jolts, blinking rapidly. “Sorry. I was documenting this momentous occasion. It’s like you’re both all grown up.”
“Don’t patronize your mother, Alana Charity Page.”
Alana chuckles, wrapping her arms around us both. “I’m just happy to see a fine example of healthy communication in my very own lifetime. What a miracle.”
Mom fixes a dry eye roll on the cake as she murmurs, “You’d tell me if your sister were in trouble, wouldn’t you?”
“Define trouble? Are we talking abduction by evil faerie prince or…”
Mom deflates like one of the very interesting balloons my father has now found to amuse himself with. For a simple pre-brunch family birthday cake time, Alana and Dad really dressed the room up nice.
Mom sighs. “I don’t know why I try.”
Smiling, I hold her tighter, leaning fully into Alana’s mediating hug. “I know why.”
“You do?”
“Because you love us.”
Her eyes glass before she finds her composure and snaps, “Arthur, sit down and let’s cut this cake already. I want to get nice pictures before my daughters make me cry.”
Alana snuggles. “I told you the exchange rate was amazing.”
With a huff, Mom says, “Actually, you said it was incredible.”
“Okay, well, did I lie?”
She rests her cheek against Alana’s shoulder. “No.”
¤
