Page 79 of Goalie Secrets

“We’re discussing her role in my new reality television show,” my mother announces.

“My absence in it, to be more accurate,” I state flatly.

“So, are you two, um, close?” The producer’s brows wiggle with innuendo as she points between me and Jeremy.

“I live across the street and saw the black Suburbans,” Jeremy says with a casual shrug. “I needed to make sure my doctor isn’t getting kidnapped.”

“He’s your patient, Van-yaaa?” my mother says, eyes sparkling with added interest. I’m sure this tidbit of information would be fodder for reality television.

Jeremy glances at me apologetically. He has no reason to feel bad. It isn’t his fault that Zara Gupta handles information like weaponry.

“Tell her she works too hard, Jeremy,” Mom says with a nasty edge to her tone. “All those hours can’t be good for her hormones. Stress collects all her weight gain in the middle.”

My body heats up with shame. Pointing out my weight is a customary way my mother puts me in my place. I’m surprised it took her this long to bring it up. Jeremy shifts his body so he’s facing me slightly, not even bothering to hide his protective stance. He opens his mouth but closes it again because what can he say, after all? His silence encourages my mother.

“If she doesn’t ease off, she’ll die early like her father.”

“I’m not married to someone who’s cheating on me, so my chances of survival are much higher than Dad’s.”

The words are out before I’ve taken my next breath. Bile rises up my throat. I’m as shocked as everyone that those words came out of me. It’s also unbearably embarrassing to have this bit of family melodrama aired out for strangers to hear.

Most of all, I’m disgusted with myself. I sound likeher. Hurtful and bitter when she doesn’t get her way. My fatherdeserves better than getting dragged into this shit between me and the Zara fucking Glow brand.

“How dare you.” Mom’s hiss is louder than a scream.

“OK, well, how about we leave the consent and release forms here, Vanya,” A says conciliatorily. “Here’s my card. In case you need anything clarified.”

“Don’t bother. I won’t sign them.”

The producer frowns. She takes a pen from her clipboard and draws lines across a section of the paperwork, initialing beside the redacted section.

“I’ve crossed out the line items about video footage. Just give consent for pictures of your childhood, or videos of you and your mother, that sort of thing.”

“She said no.” Jeremy’s voice is curt, inviting no argument from the producer or the cameraman or the mother.

They gather themselves to leave. I might have sounded defiant a few minutes ago but at the moment, all I am is drained. My legs are barely able to keep me standing. My mother’s glare when she passes me makes me want to crumple to the floor. It’s Jeremy who closes the door behind them when they exit.

Like they’re magnets that clamp around me, Jeremy’s arms hold me up. “Fuck, Vanya, that was brutal.”

I shake my head. “She’s gone. That’s all that matters.”

“What do you need from me?”

“Forget what happened?”

“I’ll try. But fuck, it explains a lot.”

I groan. “The last thing I need is a therapy session analyzing all the ways I have a dysfunctional relationship with my mother.”

“I’m no therapist, but I am your friend. When you said she was hard to be around, part of me thought it was an exaggeration. It’s not. She’s toxic.”

This isn’t news to me. Ashley encouraged me to leave Toronto when I applied for medical school because it created distance between me and my mother’s toxic influence.

Leaning my head on Jeremy’s strong shoulders, I let my heart break a little. Every interaction with my mother only confirms that I can’t be around her. The older I get, the less excuses I can make for her behavior. This ridiculous conversation about her reality show might very well be the last conversation we have. I can’t subject myself to this again. I can’t be around her until she stops using me as another resource to exploit.

I’m overwhelmed with sadness that someone I’m meant to love and admire constantly makes me feel like a disappointment. Her narcissism sucks the oxygen out of a room. There’s no reason to salvage a relationship that only ever brought me pain and self-doubt.

I break down in sobs, grieving my hope for reconciliation and understanding. In my heart, I let go of any expectations that one day she’d see me as a person who deserves respect, if not love. The saddest part of letting go is realizing I never truly had a mother to hold on to.