Free Is This What I Want? by Patricia Mann Page B

Thursday from eleven to three. Since I teach Tuesdays and Thursdays from four to seven, I can really use that time to review for lectures, finish up grading, that kind of thing. And Wednesdays, well… maybe we can have lunch together once in a while, like this.” Her face beamed with delight.
    “I’d love that, B. I never know my weekly schedule until the last minute, but I usually end up with two or three Wednesdays off a month.” The fact that over two decades of stellar performance as a critical care nurse didn’t afford her any flexibility or advance notice of her schedule always baffled me.
    A disturbing thought crept into my mind. What if the situation with Dave were happening now? What if I was still infatuated with him and suddenly had twelve hours a week alone? The next thought actually sent a visible shiver down my spine. I was angry that he came to my first class the first week of school, but I was also a little disappointed that he didn’t show up the second week. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but in my vulnerable state, I let myself feel it. I was still attracted to him. I still wanted Dave and seeing him stirred things up again inside me. I hadn’t forgotten our irresistible kisses and long, intimate chats online late at night when everyone else was asleep. I wasn’t aware of the conflicted look that crept onto my face until my mother spoke.
    “Beth, I know this… Jack starting preschool is hard for you, but it seems like… I don’t know. Is there something more going on? Are things okay with you and Rick?”
    I looked into my mother’s face and saw concern, compassion, and curiosity. I didn’t let her into my inner world often, but I couldn’t think of a good reason not to anymore. The days of confronting her about things like the time my uncle made sexual advances and blaming her for not protecting me were long behind us. Now that I was a mother myself, I knew that none of us could ever be vigilant enough to protect our children from all harm and heartache. I pondered the possibility of pouring my heart out to her right then and there.
    She waited. I took in her sweet blue eyes, her champagne blond hair, and the pretty teardrop purple earrings that matched her blouse perfectly. I knew that this lunch was important to her. We hadn’t had lunch alone in ages. I realized she must have seen it as one of my rare attempts to reach out and move beyond the tensions and resentments I used to keep her at a distance.
    I opened my mouth to speak but the server, a petite, young, beautiful Japanese woman named Mandy was suddenly standing before us.
    “Can I start you off with some fresh lemonade or iced tea?”
    I looked at my mother for confirmation, which she provided.
    “No thanks,” I said. “We’ll start off with two glasses of La Crema Pinot Noir, please.”
    We talked more about how to help Jack adjust to preschool for a while. The combination of her supportive words and the effects of the wine began to take the edge off so I decided it was time to change the subject.
    “You’re right, Mom. There is more going on. So much I don’t even know where to start.”
    She looked at her watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. Start anywhere.”
    I took a large gulp of wine and its warmth surged through me. I nodded.
    “Sure, I might as well tell you everything. But Mom, I don’t want to fight. Can you please try not to give me advice or say anything that’ll set me off? Can you just listen? I already know the things I should do. I just need to vent a little.”
    I could see she was hurt and for a second, I started to rethink the idea of opening up.
    “Why would you think I would… of course I can just listen, B. I’ve always tried to be there for you. You’re the one who keeps everything inside and doesn’t seem to trust me, which I don’t understand.”
    Another large gulp of wine. I was on the precipice of a confrontation and I had two choices. I could jump off by giving in to my anger and