More Than Lies (More Than #1)(49)

I don’t know if I’m excited or dreading it. Maybe a little bit of both. None of us have spoken on what happens after graduation. I know Shawn is staying here. Mason I’m not sure of. Matt and I can do our jobs from anywhere.

Matt wants to be an editor. Freelance work is everywhere. He’s done it for years, editing papers for his classmates in high school and that continued in college. He’s gotten more and more work every year. I don’t see him having any problems. He’s my editor, actually. I like having an editor that hates all things romance fiction related. I think they are able to catch more errors.

Mason is a computer engineer. I don’t really know what that entails, because when he starts talking about his work, it’s like listening to someone speaking a different language. I know he’s brilliant at designing websites, but I don’t think that covers even one half of his knowledge when it comes to computers.

I’m sitting in a posh breakfast restaurant at the moment waiting on my mother to arrive. To be honest, I didn’t know these places existed in Mississippi outside of Jackson. Apparently at least one does. Who knew?

It’s not like her to request my presence like this. She said she wants to talk, which translates to she wants to talk while I sit receptively and listen like the good little southern girl I’m expected to be. I need a throw up bag. I’m over her crap.

Well, that’s a lie.

I don’t understand why my parents’ approval is so important to me. Logically, I get that it shouldn’t matter what they think of me. But I can’t seem to be content with my own inner value. I need to learn how to be happy with me.

“Taralynn,” her voice sings. It’s not a loving melody. It’s a snooty, you’re a waste of my time, hateful sound. “So glad you could drop by to have a chat with me.” Drop by? I drove an hour out of my way to come see her. I wouldn’t call this dropping by.

“Certainly, Mother.” I don’t call her Mom like my brother does. I don’t even refer to her as momma, like Shawn and his brother call Pam. No, she’s always been Mother. This is at her request. Demand, really. It’s so formal, like her, and I hate it. I never want my kids to call me that word.

“What can I get you today, ladies?” I look up to see a tall, lanky waiter in black attire standing before us.

“A sparkling water for both of us.” I don’t like sparkling water. I hate the fizziness. It’s like drinking flat, tasteless champagne, but I bite my tongue I’ve learned to choose my battles with her wisely.

My mother doesn’t look at the waiter when she relays her order. She generally doesn’t look at many people, except those she is trying to resemble. “I’ll have an egg white omelet, no salt, all vegetables.” She didn’t even open her menu. I guess she comes here often.

“And for you, Madam?” He smiles down at me.

“Pancakes, please, and real maple syrup.” I close the menu.

“The egg white omelet is a must, Taralynn. You should try it.”

“I like pancakes, Mother.” And I don’t have them very often. Surely an uppity place like this should make delicious sweet goodness.

“They like your thighs, too.” Ouch. She’s starting early. The server’s eyes widen. I smile up at him as if her words don’t faze me. They do, but I won’t let anyone see that everything she says to me hurts, especially her.

Our waters are delivered almost instantly. After witnessing how she spoke to me, I’m betting the waiter has correctly assumed that he needs to pay special attention to our table. That’s probably a good plan. Katherine Evans isn’t afraid to request a manager when service takes longer than she feels it should or that the restaurant staff doesn’t act in a manner she prefers.

“Your brother only has two more years after this one to finish up his residency.” She takes a sip of her water, pinky raised, and continues. “He’ll be choosing his fellowship program soon.”

“Yes, he will.” I know this already. “I’m sure he and Kylie will end up at the same hospital in or around Orlando.” Trent wants to be a trauma surgeon and work in an ER. Kylie wants to be a plastic surgeon. She loves Orlando and has always wanted to live in Florida.

“Right.” My mother bites out. “Jackson needs someone with your brother’s skills. North Mississippi could use someone like him as well. My son has a lot of options in front of him.” She always refers to Trent as her son, but I’ve never heard her call me her daughter. I used to think it was odd, but then I realized my mother doesn’t like me very much. I’ve never known why. I don’t know what I could have done to lose her love. If I knew, maybe I could have fixed it a long time ago. Problem is, I’ve always gotten the feeling it has to do with the fact that I was born. So, maybe I never had her love to begin with.

“True.” I’m not going to argue with her. Trent doesn’t want to stay in Mississippi, and neither does Kylie.

“You graduate college in six months, Taralynn. What are your options?” So this is why I’m here. Freakin’ awesome.

“The same options they have been since before I started college, Mother. You know I want to be a writer. I am a writer. That hasn’t changed. It’s not going to change.” I place emphasis on the last sentence. This isn’t a conversation I want to hash out with her again. It’s been done over and over, and she doesn’t understand. Although, maybe she does and doesn’t care.