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“He donated lots of money, Crystal,” she then whispered. “This year, too, for the charitable organization,” her voice grew louder. “I had no choice. You know how it is in our circles.”

I wanted to laugh. Just then the door opened a crack and Dawn peered inside. Seeing I was on the phone, she started to withdraw. But I waved her back in.

Sitting up, I indicated the spot next to me. Dawn climbed onto the bed, wearing a worried expression.

“I know how it is, Mom. But that doesn’t mean your own daughter couldn’t expect a little more help from you.”

“I kept him away from you, Crystal. I did everything in my power to prevent him—”

“If you had done everything in your power, you’d never have let that pig set foot in our home,” I interrupted her. “You would have done what every normal mother would do—keep me safe and put that creep behind bars. Instead, you forced me to dress more modestly and then accepted the dirty money he gave you to keep quiet. You left me alone with my fear.”

I heard her sharp inhale, but I wasn’t finished yet.

“I don’t want to live in the past anymore, Mom. I moved to Woodshill to start over. Not because I wanted to make life hard for you and Dad. I just wanted to breathe free again. But it won’t work until we’ve cleared the air about this.”

The line was quiet as death.

“I’m trying to forgive you, trying to deal with this Russel stuff, and trying to build a life here. But I can’t do if you keep trying to influence my decisions.”

I squeezed my eyes shut to suppress my tears. Dawn grabbed my hand and held it tight.

“I never wanted to hurt you, Crystal, I just wanted the best for our family,” my mother said, and I knew that this was the only apology I would ever get from her. That was it. But at least I’d said everything that I should’ve said years ago.

“You hurt me, Mom. A lot. And on Thanksgiving you showed me again that my feelings mean nothing to you. You allowed me to attend this event even though you knew he’d be there. Saving face in front of your friends was more important to you than your daughter’s well-being.”

She took another breath as if to speak—but remained silent. Dawn raised her eyebrows at me, and I shrugged. Mom said nothing. And then:

“So I drove you out of our home?”

“I’m not returning to Lincoln any time soon. Woodshill is great.”

“You belong in a big city, Crystal,” she snorted. “Not in a village where everyone drives around in rusty trucks.”

She almost made me laugh.

“I’m not Crystal any more, Mom. I haven’t been for several months now. My friends call me Allie. Maybe you can accept that I am building a life for myself here, a life that can make me happy,” I repeated the words I’d prepared in my head before calling. “I don’t want to shut you out of my life, Mom. That doesn’t help you, or me—but if you can’t accept who I am, there’s no other choice.”

Dawn squeezed my hand so hard that my knuckles cracked.

“I can’t accept the path you’ve chosen. Whatever you think of me, I only want the best for you. And that is, in my opinion, not Woodshill and certainly not a tattooed thug who’ll only lead you astray.”

Her words stung.

“If she’s being mean, just hang up, Allie,” whispered Dawn, pantomiming the action.

“You’re welcome to visit me. Or not. It’s up to you. But I’m not coming back.” I paused. “And now I have to hang up.”

Mom sucked in another breath.

“Take care, Mom. If you want, say hello to Dad for me,” I said in a somewhat forgiving tone.

“Take care, Cr—” She caught herself. “Take care, Allie.”

I hung up and let the phone drop.

“I’m proud of you,” Dawn said, with a big smile.

“Does it sound stupid if I say, ‘me too’?”

Now my friend shook her head, but the smile stayed put. “Not at all.”

And even though I was still shaken, and my pulse was racing, I returned her smile. I’d done it: told my mother what I thought and freed myself from her. Now the ball was in her court. It was up to her to decide whether we had a future.