Nova is a recent law school graduate, clinging to her dream of becoming a sports lawyer through an internship with New York City's NHL team, hoping she can land a full time position. One problem though, the captain of the hockey team is someone she...
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"You're so selfish, Nova. I'm never going to understand why he constantly chose you over me."
I sit on my bed, looking at my reflection in my mirror across the room. My face becomes stone cold as I keep any emotions from surfacing. I refuse to cry.
"Mom, you're drunk. Lets talk again when you have something to eat."
"Oh, fuck off. You just don't want to face the reality of what a terrible daughter you are. You stole him from me."
"I didn't steal Dad away from you. I was his daughter."
"All he ever wanted to do was spend time with you. By the time he passed, he only cared about you. You manipulated him into giving you all his attention. Now I have nothing left of him."
"He loved you, he loved all of us. He didn't want to leave you."
She replies with a bite in her voice, slurring all her words, "Fuck you, he loved me. Me! He loved me the most, don't try to claim otherwise. You took advantage of him. You should hate yourself."
My gut twists. Believe me, you make it hard not to.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
She scoffs on the other end of the call. "Too little, too late. I never should've had a second kid. You just took all of his time. Atlas at least knew how to share his affection, you were always too selfish. Having you was a mistake."
With a beep the line goes dead.
I sit still, not moving an inch as I process everything my Mom said. Unfortunately, it's nothing I haven't heard from her already.
Ever since my Dad was close to the end, these calls have been a weekly occurrence when Mom is drinking. I still pick up the phone every time because I feel guilty. I know she's hurting. I know she misses him. So, I take the verbal beatings. If it makes her feel better, then fine, tell me how awful I am.
It still hurts though. I thought the pain would ease with every call, but it seems to only get worse.
It's gotten to the point that I genuinely believe what she says about me. She's not wrong, I did take up a lot of Dad's time. He constantly put me first, driving me to school and dance class, listening to my drama from school whenever I needed to rant. He never missed a single dance competition. I guess in hindsight, I was pretty selfish.
I was also just a kid, though. And isn't that what parents do? Sacrifice some of their time for their children?
She's still right, though. I did take too much of his time. Even near the end when he was going through treatments though they weren't working, he still bent over backwards for me. I tried to tell him to take a break, but he always said that if he was going to leave us all soon anyway, he wanted to be able to spend every moment with us, no matter what we were doing together.
