all.
“ It ’ s not a hobby. It ’ s my passion and it has been for three years now. I ’ d like to make it my career. But, I need your help .” I ’ m barely able to get the words out, but I do my best to remain strong against her judgmental face.
“ Whatever do you mean, darling? What do you need from me ? ” She looks defensive already; she knows I ’ m about to ask for money.
“ Well, starting a business can be costly, and I ’ m basically spending all of what I make at the bar on living expenses. I was hoping you and Dad would agree to give me a loan. ”
“ I don ’ t know, ” she begins, “ this is really something for your father to decide, not me. ”
“ Why not you, Mother? It ’ s your money, too, ” I say, wishing I had bit ten my tongue. This conversation is going nowhere quickly.
“ You and I both know your father makes all of the money decisions in this household, and I wouldn ’ t have it any other way. If you ’ d like me to talk with him about it, I will. But, I have to be honest, Katherine , I don ’ t see him offering you anything. ”
“ Why? ” I hate the way she says my full name. It makes the hair on my arms stand up. She only uses it when she ’ s being condescending.
“ You ’ re not exactly a good investment, ” she deadpans.
Did my mother actually say those words to me? I ’ m not a good investment? Is she fucking kidding me? Who says that to their daughter?
“ I ’ m not asking you to invest in me, Mother, I ’ m asking you to lend me money so that I can make something of myself doing the one thing I love to do. ”
“ The one thing? Hardly. Kate, you have been a pianist, a sculptor, a painter and a songwriter. You were bound to be a photographer at some point, but it ’ s highly unlikely that you ’ ll stick with it. It ’ s not how you operate, my darling .” Her words are like venom. My heart is shattering within my chest.
My eyes are quickly filling with tears as I come to the horrid realization that my mother has no faith in me. She thinks I ’ m a flake, someone who never follows through. Does she not know me at all? Or am I living in denial? Maybe she knows me better than I know myself . . . maybe Evan is the one who doesn ’ t know me at all. He ’ s been pushing me to pursue this, telling me how talented I am, encouraging me to pursue my passion. What if he ’ s lying to me?
What if Angeline Armour is the only one willing to tell me the truth?
“ I have to go, ” I say, quickly wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes before my mother can see them.
“ Kate, darling, please don ’ t go. I wasn ’ t trying to hurt you. I was just being honest. ”
“ I know, Mother, it ’ s fine. I ’ ll be in touch soon, ”
As I ’ m walking to my car, Evan sends a text: W here are you babe? I’m about to head to your place
Flustered from my horrendous conversation with Angeline, I quickly form a lie: Shopping with Bree , be there in 30
He doesn ’ t respond, but I ’ m so preoccupied over my disheartening conversation with my mother, I don ’ t think about him during my drive. I just hope he ’ ll be at my place when I get there. I need to feel reassured, to know that I ’ m not kidding myself. That Angeline is wrong about her daughter. But, by the time I reach my apartment, after stewing for thirty minutes, I ’ m convinced that she ’ s absolutely right about me. I ’ m kidding myself if I think I can ever pursue a career in photography. Evan ’ s in love with me, and therefore, being sweet and supportive. He ’ s being a good boyfriend. My mother knows me better. And so anger begins to rise in my chest. I need to get it out.
Walking into my apartment, I hear music playing and smell something cooking in the oven.
“ Hey, ” Evan says. Something in his eyes looks off. His brow looks knitted and the corners of his mouth are turned
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