A Good Haunting

Chapter 1

 I have lived in a constant state of perpetual fear and anxiety my entire life. My mother seems to be the primary cause of my insecurities, yet an outsider would simply say our relationship is odd, to say the least. I love my mother. I do, really. She has sacrificed so much to give me the life and opportunities I have today. But through those sacrifices is a deep-rooted bitterness projected onto me to be perfect. Perfect. In my 18 years here on earth, I haven't been able to achieve perfection to my mother's standards. No matter how perfect my grades may be or how I might excel in extra-curriculars, it is never enough. Enough. She has dictated the direction of my life with an iron fist-- telling me exactly how to dress, what sports to play, what clubs to join, watching my grades and (waste line, for that matter) ever so closely. No friend is good enough to spend time with outside of school because friends only will "distract you from your studies." I feel as though my life isn't my own life, it's her life. Everything I do is for her. The AP classes, the volunteer organizations, the academic clubs... all for her. The only thing that I somewhat do for myself is music. But, the thing is, I don't play instruments because I'm passionate about them-- I use them to cope-- use them as an escape from my homelife. Matter of fact, I don't even know what I'm truly passionate about. If my mother told me my life goal was to be a janitor, sure as hell I'm becoming a janitor. Whatever she says goes. And the thing that kills me is I don't hate her for it. Maybe I am a bit resentful of her, sure, but I'm so far lost at this point that I'm grateful for any sense of direction I can get. But it gets me thinking... What even is the point of living if I'm not living for myself? Is there even a point? I just don't see it.

"Charlotte, dinner!" My mother calls. I stick my pencil into my notebook as a placeholder and make my way downstairs. I walk into the kitchen and there she is. Standing unamused in a light pink button up blouse and gray slacks, her graying brown hair perfectly pinned back in a low bun, she watches me as I make my way to my designated seat at the table. I sit down and place my folded hands gently on my lap, avoiding eye contact with her as much as possible.

"That's all? No 'How was your day mom?' Charlotte, you'd think you would have a lot more respect for the woman who birthed you."

I look up sheepishly, "How was your day mom." As she answers I lower my head again, focusing on the empty plates in front of me. She begins placing dinner on the table: salmon, brown rice, and steamed broccoli-- obviously bland food for a bland life. She pulls out her chair and joins me at the table.

"Well since you asked," she shoots me a fake smile "today was great."

"Oh yeah, why's that?" She grabs a plate and portions out my food for me on my plate. 3 oz of roasted salmon, ½ cup brown rice, and a heaping cup of broccoli. No more, no less.

"I had my interview for the admissions director chair today. I have a feeling the cards are in my hand!" she exclaims.

"That's great mom," I say between bites of salmon. She is clearly displeased by my lack of manners.

"Finish chewing your food, Charlotte." I swallow hard, looking down at my hands that are now resting in my lap. She observes my behavior for a brief moment and continues speaking. "I can see it now, Adrian Campbell, director of admissions at Oregon State!"

"I'm happy for you mom," I choke out in a fake smile.

She smiles back at me. "Thank you, Charlotte." Picking up her fork and knife, she digs into her salmon filet. The remainder of dinner is rather quiet, mostly consisting of simple small talk and minimal eye contact. In all honesty, I am happy for her, truly. I hope she gets the job, maybe it's motivated by my selfish desires. This new job will require a lot of attention and more time spent at work. Maybe it could be a fresh start for both of us. By the time dinner is over, she nods towards upstairs. That's my cue to leave.