Ring! Ring! Ring!

“Hello?”

She picks up her phone and presses it to her ear.

“Hello. Who is this?”

“Um. Hi. Mom. It’s me.”

She's surprised to hear that voice. She hadn't been expecting to hear it ever again.

“Oh . . . It’s been a while.”

“Yeah. Since the wedding. How are you? Are you and Dad doing okay?”

“Yes. We are. He’s just got a promotion at work. He keeps going on and on about what we’ll do when he retires.”

“I see. That’s great for him. I hope he gets to do whatever he wants to do. He’s been looking forward to retirement for a while, hasn’t he?”

“Yes, he has. [She chuckles.] He keeps saying we’ll move to the Algarve's, raise a few donkeys and visit the beach each week.”

“Heh. That’d be a cool. Portugal is a nice place to live. What’d you say about it?”

“I told him it’s a nice place for vacation.”

“But not to live there?”

“Well, as much as I like the idea of seeing other countries, I’d miss here. . . And you.”

She holds her breath, hoping her daughter can hear her sincerity.

“You know I could always come and visit . . . You know, if you and Dad'd be okay with seeing me by then.”

“Why wouldn’t he be, baby girl?”

Her daughter gives an exasperated sigh. She flinches, hoping her daughter won't hang up.

“Mom . . . You know he hasn’t once called me all these months ever since the wedding, which he only showed up to see if I’d actually go through with it.”

“Sweetie! He cares about you very much!”

“Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“H-He just isn’t good at expressing his emotions. He’s better at handling your brother.”

“They’re both men, duh. They're not good at expressing things. Period. He’s never once tried to open up to me. Then again, this family isn’t so good at opening up at all, is it?”

She lowers her eyes, hurt that that's the way her child perceives her own father, brother, and men in general. She hopes what happened hasn't completely corrupted her daughter's outlook on the world.

“Sweetie, if you’re calling just to talk about that then why don’t we try this another day?”

“ . . . . . . Sorry. I’m just . . . still bitter about the whole thing. To be fair, you didn’t do a lot to help me.”

“ . . . . . . . . . . .”

“You were there at the wedding, too. I specifically remember you and Dad sitting together in the front row as we exchanged our vows. You were so expressionless. Dad was practically fuming. It made us both so uncomfortable, like we were committing a crime by loving each other!”

“Baby–”

“Don’t baby me, Mom! Do you know how embarrassing it was for us? For me? I invited you guys because I thought you deserved to meet my partner, which means it's my own damned fault everything turned out like it did. You could’ve at least pretended to look pleased. My own brother was capable of doing that for six hours so why couldn’t you?”

She knew this had been coming, but she was still working it out for herself. She didn't want to risk her worst fear coming true, that she might never understand her daughter or accept her or her partner's love for each other.

“I-I’m sorry. It was new for us at the time, your engagement. Your brother isn’t married yet, so we didn’t know how to deal with the fact that your youngest child, our only daughter, was getting married to a–”

“Don’t say it. I swear, if you say it I’ll leave right now!”

“ . . . Okay. I won’t use that word. Is there another word you’d rather I use?”

“Mom. [She sighs in resignation.] The point isn’t what words you use. Forget what Dad did, he hurt me enough that I won’t be speaking to him for a few more years. Not until he apologizes. I think we both need to blow off some steam about the way he treated me and my partner.”

“We can agree on that. What is it about, then?”

“ . . . I knew you’d be the one to pick up. I wanted to ask you before I decided if I’m not going to talk to you for another six months.”

She sucks in a breath, biting her lip nervously.

“Alright. I’m all ears.”

“Mom. Why didn’t you support me? Why didn’t you tell Dad to cool it for my wedding? Why did you come at all if you weren’t going to be happy for me?”

Long silence ensues between the two. She has to respond quickly or else her daughter will believe she's more heartless than she already thinks.

“I grew up in a time when different kinds of marriages, interracial, homosexual, non-religious, you name it, weren’t acceptable. Neither your father nor I hate people who have these kinds of marriages. It’s just that, it comes as a shock sometimes when you realize your child is all grown up. That they’ve been raised in a world completely different than our own. You’re more open to the world. Your generation is encouraged to be diverse and more accepting of differences.”

“Did you ever think about how I’d feel?”

“Of course. Every day. I knew you were going to marry them with or without our blessing. The reason we came to your wedding, [She murmurs to herself, ] the reason I came to your wedding, was to make an effort to try and understand you.”

“ . . . Try?”

“We didn’t do a good job, clearly. [She sighs softly.] I didn't do a good job. I’m sorry. I haven’t been the mother you needed. I know I should’ve recognized what we were doing was only hurting you. I can’t fix the past. . . If you want, though, would you be willing to forgive me? To give me another chance?”

“What do you mean?”

Her daughter is suspicious, but she doesn't blame her. She hurt her, so it's only right that she has to earn back that trust and love.

“Baby girl, please don’t ice me out for another six months. Talk to me, please. We don’t have to talk about your marriage. We don’t have to talk about your father. Just please, at least let me know that you’re alright, that you’re happy. Can we do that, at least?”

Her daughter considers it for a while.

“Okay, Mom, but you have to promise me you’ll be more sensitive.”

Her daughter hadn't said "try." She wants her mother to truly be there for her.

“I promise. You have my word! I-I love you, baby girl.”

And there was no way she was letting her little girl down again.

“ . . . Okay, Mom. . . Listen, I should probably go. I promised I’d visit during lunch break.”

“Okay, love. Please tell them–Please tell them I hope they’ll forgive me for not being a good mother-in-law, and that I hope I’ll be able to say it in person soon.”

“Okay, Mom. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetie. I love you no matter what. Always remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She honestly hopes her daughter decides to stay a little longer.

“Until next time. And I-I promise I’ll try, too. To understand you, I mean.”

She can’t contain her excitement at her daughter’s words. They've never been good at opening up to each other, at talking about the things that needed to be said aloud.

“Thank you, love. Let me know when you’re free next. I love you.”

“L-Love–”

Her daughter hangs up before she can say it (she's probably not ready to say, "I love you, too," yet, but that's okay. It won't happen all at once.

She vows to herself that this time she'll be better. This time she'll be the mother her daughter needs, because she's realized by now that in this life you only have so many chances to make it right.