Patience Heart

Talking to Mom

The dread hangs over me like a storm cloud as I prepare for the inevitable conversation with my mother. There's no easy way to tell her about the mess I've found myself in, and I know that no matter how I approach it, her reaction will be explosive. But I can't avoid it any longer. The truth needs to come out, and I need to face the consequences.

I sit in the car outside my parents' house for what feels like an eternity, my hands trembling as I grip the steering wheel. I've rehearsed the conversation in my head countless times, but every scenario ends the same—my mother's face contorted in fury, her voice filled with accusations and disappointment. She's a devout Catholic, someone who clings to traditional values with an iron grip. No sex before marriage, no exceptions. And here I am, about to shatter every one of those beliefs.

Finally, I gather the courage to step out of the car, my legs feeling weak as I walk up to the front door. My mother greets me with her usual warm smile, but I can see the flicker of concern in her eyes. She's noticed the changes in me—the weight I've lost, the strain that's etched itself into my face. But she hasn't asked—at least not yet.

"Viola, you look so thin," she says as I step inside. "Are you eating properly? You know how important it is to take care of yourself."

I force a smile, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling inside me. "I'm fine, Mom. Just... a lot on my mind."

She leads me to the living room, and we sit down on the plush sofa that always feels too stiff, too formal. I take a deep breath, knowing that once I start, there's no turning back.

"Mom, I need to talk to you about something," I begin, my voice shaking. "It's... it's serious."

Her eyes narrow slightly, and she leans forward, sensing the gravity of what I'm about to say. "What is it, Viola? You're scaring me."

I swallow hard, feeling the lump in my throat grow bigger. "I... I'm pregnant."

The words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, there's silence—an awful, unbearable silence. And then, just as I expected, the storm erupts.

"What?!" My mother's voice is a mixture of shock and fury. "Pregnant? How could you let this happen, Viola? You know better than this!"

I flinch at the harshness of her words, but I can't say anything in my defense. I knew this would happen. I knew she would be furious.

"Who's responsible?" she demands, her eyes blazing with anger. "Who did this to you?"

"It was... a mistake," I say quietly, unable to meet her gaze. "It wasn't planned, and... I don't want to involve him. This is my responsibility."

Her expression shifts from anger to disbelief. "Not planned? Viola, do you have any idea what this means? Do you know what people will say? I raised you better than this!"

I feel the sting of her words deep in my chest, but I know she's right. She did raise me better. But that doesn't change what's happened.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Sorry?" she snaps. "Sorry isn't going to fix this! You need to think about your future—about the future of this child. Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

I nod, though the answer is still unclear to me. "I'm... I'm going to keep the baby."

Her face twists in disbelief. "And how do you plan on raising a child on your own? Have you thought about that? Do you want to bring a child into this world without a father?"

I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "I don't know, Mom. I don't have all the answers. But I can't just... I can't just give up on this baby."

My mother lets out a bitter laugh, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "You're going to ruin everything, Viola. Do you know how hard I've worked to build a name for myself, for this family? And now you're going to throw it all away because of a mistake?"

Her words cut deep, and I feel a wave of guilt and shame wash over me. I've always admired my mother's success, her determination, and her strength. But now, I'm the one who's tarnishing her reputation.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, my voice trembling. "I can't change what's happened. I just need your support."

She shakes her head, her face set in a grim line. "Support? Viola, you've made your bed, and now you have to lie in it. But if you think I'm going to let you have this child without a proper father, you're mistaken."

"What do you mean?" I ask, dread pooling in my stomach.

"I mean, you need to find a man to marry—someone who can give this child a name, a proper family," she says firmly. "I don't care who it is, but you are not going to have an illegitimate child in this family. Do you understand?"

Her words hit me like a slap to the face. She wants me to find another man to marry—someone to cover up my mistake, someone to save face. It's a harsh, cruel solution, but it's exactly what I expected from her.

"I can't just marry someone, Mom," I say, my voice shaky. "That's not fair to me, or to the baby."

"What's not fair is bringing a child into this world without a father," she snaps. "You need to think about the consequences, Viola. This isn't just about you anymore. It's about our family, our reputation."

I feel the weight of her words pressing down on me, suffocating me. She's right—this isn't just about me anymore. But I can't bring myself to follow her orders, to marry someone just to cover up my mistake.

"I don't know what to do," I admit, my voice breaking. "I'm scared, Mom. I'm scared of what's going to happen."

My mother's expression softens slightly, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the caring, supportive woman I've always known. But it's fleeting, and she quickly hardens again.

"You need to be strong, Viola," she says firmly. "You need to make the right choice for this family. And that means finding a man who's willing to step up and take responsibility."

She pauses for a moment, her tone shifting slightly. "What about Adam? He's a good guy. I know he likes you—he's liked you since university. He used to drive me home from campus, you know? We've shared good conversations, even some food. I've always thought he'd be a good match for you."

I look up at her, stunned. "Adam?"

"Yes, Adam," she says, her voice growing more insistent. "I've brought him up before, haven't I? He's always been polite, responsible... He'd make a good husband. And he clearly cares about you. You're not getting any younger, Viola. You're in the proper age for marriage, almost expired by my terms."

I feel a lump in my throat as her words sink in. Adam has been persistent, and he's a good man—my mother is right about that. But marrying him just because I'm pregnant? It feels wrong, unfair to both of us. Yet the pressure is mounting, and I don't know how to resist it.

As I leave her house, I'm filled with a sense of dread. The conversation with my mother has left me more confused and conflicted than ever. I don't know what the future holds, but I know that whatever decision I make, it won't be easy.

Her words echo in my mind long after I leave her house, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on my shoulders. As I drive home, my thoughts are a jumbled mess of fear, uncertainty, and the nagging voice of reason telling me that maybe—just maybe—she's right.

Adam has been a constant presence in my life, and I know he would be there for me if I asked. But asking him to marry me, to take on this responsibility—it feels like too much. And yet, the alternative, facing this all alone, seems just as impossible.

By the time I pull into my driveway, I'm no closer to an answer. All I know is that I need to talk to Adam again. I need to figure out where we stand, and if there's a future for us beyond this mess I've created.

As I sit in the quiet of my car, I reach for my phone and stare at his name on the screen. My thumb hovers over the call button, my heart pounding in my chest. Finally, I press it, the ringing in my ear a reminder that once again, I'm about to dive into the unknown.