“You’re almost twenty-seven, honey,” her mom said, picking up her glass of wine. Her dad was due soon but Maisie wished he washere now. They wouldn’t get much time together before everyone had to leave. Plus, he usually lightened the mood when her mom started on one of her “you could do more” speeches, which Maisie was certain she was diving into now. “You must want more than you have.”
Her siblings and their spouses, along with Asher, were doing holiday karaoke in the other room. They’d teased her about her aversion to joining, saying her voice wasn’t that bad. None of them knew her real hesitation was trying to keep up with the pace of the words and messing them up. Growing up, she’d explained to her parents that reading was hard as hell for her but they told her she needed to apply herself. So she had. Just to pursuits she enjoyed rather than struggling through. Photography had opened up her eyes and her heart and made her want to explore. It made her happy.
Grabbing the piping bags she’d bought, Maisie got them ready to add white icing so she could add food coloring. Her mom slipped onto a stool instead of helping.
“You know, you could do a semester at my university,” she suggested when Maisie didn’t say anything, choosing to focus on what she could control.
Maisie looked up, gave her mom her full attention. “I can’t just uproot my life for four months, Mom.”
Her mom’s dark hair slid against her cheek when she tilted her head. “Oh, honey. I’m sure you can rebook some photography appointments.”
Inhaling deeply, she let out a soft breath. “I can’t reschedule someone’sweddingphotography. And I don’t mind showing a family friend around but I don’t need you setting me up.” Maisie thought of how Lexi met her fiancé and how he’d been her fake fiancé before her real one because circumstances had brought them together while Will’s mom was trying to marry him off. Though she loved her parents, sometimes she thought they’d get along well with Will’s. Particularly their moms.
Putting a hand to her chest, toying with the large diamond solitaire that hung from a gold chain around her neck, her mom set her wine down with a heavy sigh.
“It’s time to stop playing around, Maisie. Photography is a beautiful hobby and you’re very talented. I’m not saying otherwise. But what is the endgame here? You’ll be lugging around camera equipment when you’re sixty, taking photos of everyone else’s special moments without creating your own?”
The little stitches around her heart that appeared whenever she was with her mom for too long began to tear at the seams.
She grabbed the food coloring, ripped the box open. “It’s not a hobby, Mom. It’s my passion, which I’m lucky enough to have made into a career. I live off what I make. I’m booked months in advance.” She lined each of the primary colors up, met her mom’s gaze. “And maybe I’m not saving people or animals or defending people in court but you watch one bride look at my photos of her kissing her husband for the first time or new parents looking at their baby and you’ll know, what I do matters. To me and to others.” Maisie’s hands shook as she tried to squeeze the color into the piping bag.Just tell her. Get her off your back. Make her happy.Maisie didn’t want her to ruin something she was so excited about though.
Her mom held up both hands in a back-off gesture. “No reason to get so worked up, Maisie. I’m having a grown-up conversation with my adult daughter.”
That somehow made Maisie feel more like a child than ever, one her mom might love but didn’t respect. Maisie swiped at the food coloring that dripped on the side of the bag before moving on to the next one. Her fingertips turned into a rainbow. Tears threatened but she wouldn’t let them fall.
Her mom sipped her wine quietly, laughter and off-key singing coming from the other room. Maisie put her frustration into cleaningand trying to make sure Ellie wasn’t finding powdered sugar for months to come.
“Maisie.” Her mom waited until she was looking at her to continue. Gripping the dishcloth, Maisie nodded, giving her mom the go-ahead to get whatever she needed to say off her chest.
She didn’t have fancy degrees but shouldn’t her mom be proud of who she was? She didn’t ask for anything, was successful in her own right, and, most important, was happy. She didn’t litter, was always there when friends needed her, let people go first in lines, held doors for people, donated to the local food bank, and ran a free photography class for teens at one of the local high schools. Did any of that count? Or did it only matter if it got announced in monthly medical journals and emails? Maisie’s life was quiet and simple, but she liked it that way. She was proud of it. Usually.
“I think you’ll understand this better if you ever have children but it’s impossible not to want the best for them. Not to want them to reach far past their fears of failure and just give it their all.”
The emotion in her mom’s voice dug into the pieces of Maisie that wanted to win her mom’s approval.
“I’ve accepted a position as an artist in residence at the University of Washington starting in January. It’s a four-month contract, to start. I’m very excited. I was going to tell everyone all together but with Dad not here, I wasn’t able to.”
Watching her mom’s face light up with joy nearly knocked the breath from Maisie’s lungs. Her mom rounded the counter and pulled her into a hug.
“Oh, Maisie. This is wonderful. What an amazing opportunity. Here I am going on about what’s next and you’re already there.”
Relief spread through her veins. Her mom let her go and Maisie tossed the dishcloth in the sink.
“It’s a very coveted position,” Maisie told her, glancing at the wine bottle, debating on whether she should pour herself a glass.
“I would say so. You’ll beteachingthe next generation.”
“Of photographers and artists, yeah,” Maisie said, letting that sink in.
She’d wanted it more than she let herself believe, sort of like her mom’s praise.
Her mom started pacing. “They have excellent programs there. Do you know how many Nobel Prize winners graduated from there?”
A short laugh escaped Maisie. “No. It wasn’t in the introduction package.” Or maybe it was. She didn’t read it. She’d scan it into her computer when she got home and listen to it, make sure she was prepped and ready. Though, that question likely wouldn’t come into play during her time on campus.
Stopping in front of her, Maisie’s mom leaned in. “What sort of benefits are there? Do you get credits? You know, we never spent the money we put aside for your university education, so we can still help you.”
Frowning, Maisie stood straighter. “It’s a four-month position, Mom. I’m not going to school there.”
