My mother hugs me tightly.
“Follow your heart, darling, and please, please – try not to over-think things. Relax
and enjoy yourself. You are so young, sweetheart. You have so much of life to experience
yet, just let it happen. You deserve the best of everything.” Her heartfelt words are com forting whispered in my ear. She kisses my hair.
“Oh, Mom.” Hot, unwelcome tears prick my eyes as I cling to her.
“Darling, you know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your
prince.”
I give her a lopsided, bittersweet smile.
“I think I’ve kissed a prince, Mom. I hope he doesn’t turn into a frog.”
She gives me her most endearing-motherly-absolute-unconditional-love smile, and I
marvel at the love I feel for this woman as we hug again.
“Ana – they’re calling your flight,” Bob’s voice is anxious.
“Will you visit, Mom?”
“Of course darling – soon. Love you.”
“Me too.”
Her eyes are red with unshed tears as she releases me. I hate leaving her. I hug Bob,
and turning, head to the gate – I do not have time for the first class lounge today. I will
myself not to glance back. But I do… and Bob is holding my mom, and tears are streaming down her face. I can no longer hold mine back. I put my head down and proceed to the
gate, keeping my eyes on the shiny, white floor, blurred through my watery tears.
Once on board, in the luxury of first class, I curl up in my seat and try to compose myself. It is always painful to wrench myself away from Mom… she is scatty, disorganized,
but newly insightful, and she loves me. Unconditional love – what every child deserves
from its parents. I frown at my wayward thoughts, and pulling out my BlackBerry, stare
at it despondently.
What does Christian know of love? Seems he didn’t get the unconditional love he was
entitled to during his very early years. My heart twists, and my mother’s words waft like a
zephyr through my mind: Yes, Ana. Hell – what do you need? – a neon sign flashing on his
forehead? She thinks Christian loves me, but then she’s my mother, of course she’d think
that. She thinks I deserve the best of everything. I frown. It’s true, and in a moment of
startling clarity, I see it. It’s very simple: I want his love. I need Christian Grey to love me.
This is why I am so reticent about our relationship – because on some basic, fundamental
level, I recognize within me a deep-seated compulsion to be loved and cherished.
And because of his fifty shades – I am holding myself back. The BDSM is a distraction from the real issue. The sex is amazing, he’s wealthy, he’s beautiful, but this is all
meaningless without his love, and the real heart-fail is that I don’t know if he’s capable of
love. He doesn’t even love himself. I recall his self-loathing, her love being the only form
