Chapter Three- Hers

I awoke to my alarm the next morning feeling so discontent I almost forgot today was Saturday. Then, the not-so-gentle reminder rang from my phone. I answered swiftly, "Good morning, mother."

"Did you forget our standing Saturday morning meeting?" It was more of an annoyed statement than a question.

I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and stifled a yawn, "of course not. I'll be there on time."

There was a long pause, and then she hastily commanded, "Wear that blue dress I bought you."

I hesitated, knowing this meant a surprise meeting, but with who? I was not too fond of surprises. I quickly went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My face looked sunken, with dark bags under my eyes, and my hair stuck out everywhere. I quickly jumped into the shower. Once out, I styled my hair and placed eyeshadow, concealer, foundation, and eyeliner on my face as instructed. I now looked at the image my mother made me into. I attempted to smile, but it didn't reach my perfectly painted eyes. I felt like a doll. My phone vibrated.

Mother: There is a car arriving now.

I squared my shoulder, grabbed my side bag, and headed out the door. The driver took me to a fancy bistro nestled between a country club and an outdoor shopping mall. I felt so out of place here and gave into the moment of yearning for my small street shop before heading inside. Mother sat at the same table as always, and I maneuvered to her, taking the seat with my back towards the wall. She looked me up and down, her mouth pressing together, meaning she approved for the most part. "Thank you for finally joining me."

I glanced at the clock, noting I was eight minutes early, and gritted my teeth. There was no use arguing as Mother would state some catchy new phrase along the lines of 'You're late if you're not early!' I nodded idly," Thank you for waiting for me."

"How was your appointment yesterday?" My mother took the napkin off the table, placed it delicately on her lap, and then turned towards me with judgmental eyes. It was almost laughable because I'm sure Dr. Cunningham already filled her in. I followed suit with my napkin, careful not to put my elbows on the table.

"It was good. We discussed the coffee shop incident and worked on other calming techniques. We also discussed maintaining three sessions a week. I want to let you know I didn't have any hallucinations." I emphasized the last sentence to ensure Mother and Dr. Cunningham understood. The glowing orbs were at the back of my mind, but I'd learned to keep those things to myself long ago.

She stares down her nose at me, seeming to decide whether to believe me. This is how it always felt, at least since Dad died, as though I couldn't be honest with anyone. A waiter appeared next to us, asking if we would like anything to drink, interrupting whatever interrogation from my mother was about to begin. She quickly ordered champagne for herself and the empty seat, then water for me. I was used to her ordering for me because I was never allowed to make decisions in my mother's presence.

My mother began the normal reprimanding, complaining, and gossip that filled each one of these Saturday meals. Her version of updating me was just an excuse to be cruel to those who lived by different standards. I let my mind wander to avoid altogether blowing a fuse at each horrible statement she made. The waiter brought our drinks back. I didn't even look at the menu as my mother would quickly decide what I was eating without any argument from me. It constantly reminded me how much I desired my independence from her. A sudden movement brought me back to the table. A platinum-blonde woman greeted my mother with a poised smile, "Gloria, it is so good to see you!"

"Oh! Bernadette, you look amazing. I'm so happy to see you as well!" Mother cooed. They exchanged a few more pleasantries before she turned her hand toward me, "This is my daughter. I think you met her once when she was younger."

The woman motioned for a server to pull out the extra chair before sitting down and looking at me. I felt like a show pony with the appraising look she gave me, "Yes, she was so lanky and Tomboyish back then. You have really grown into yourself, my dear."

I tried to place her face in my memories, but I couldn't recall ever meeting this woman. I opened my mouth to follow etiquette, but my mother stated, "Yes, some children start on the wrong footing yet find the correct path along the way. Bernie, I'm so excited to hear you will attend the Club social at the end of the month! You have been out of the country for too long."

She finished assessing me and begrudgingly approved, which confused me. What were these women scheming now? I glanced at Mother, searching for her intention, but as usual, her poker face remained intact. Bernie replied, "It is so nice to be home among civilized culture. I know my son has been appreciating the sights."

"How is your boy? I've heard he recently graduated…." I tuned them out, sipping my water before the food arrived. Mother had ordered a fall salad, forgetting I was allergic to walnuts. I gently rolled the salad around the bowl and sipped on my water.

"Oh dear, shall we set the date then?" Bernie said to me as her hand landed on mine. The deer in the headlights look I probably had landed my mother's heel into my foot. The sharp point punctured my skin slightly. I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent crying out.

She clenched her teeth in a tight smile, "Darling, I think a Friday night would be best for your blind date."

"Blind date?" I sputtered, setting my fork down.

"With Bernie's son, we both feel you would be an amazing match!" Mother grabbed my free hand, digging her nails so hard into my flesh that I wouldn't be surprised if there were little moon-shaped cuts there. The spot she held so tightly reminded me of Chad's grip last night. I still had the bruises covered with my sleeves.

"Oh, yes. The blind date…" I quickly thought through the whole conversation to try to find a way out of it. "I thought it might be better to meet at the Club's social at the end of the month. I mean, I would love to wear an amazing dress."

Mother's eyes lit up like the fourth of July, "What a brilliant idea! We can set up a brunch next week to set up all the details for this wonderful date."

I watched Bernadette nod along and temporarily felt relieved to have avoided an intimate date with this socialite, especially considering my mother approved of this person. I did not think she would go to such lengths to control my life. A bland and confining future was guaranteed if these two women had their way. I would meet this man with our mothers at brunch sometime next week, and hopefully, by then, I can think of some excuse to get out of it. I knew any man my mother rallied for was a terrible person. I glanced at my watch and realized this bitch-fest was going on longer than I expected, so I looked towards my mother and politely excused myself using the opening of my shop to avoid further questions.