A Mother's Final Portrait

Unloved

Yvonne noticed the disgust my mother had for me, and a small smile curled her lips. She raised her head and asked in feigned innocence, "What would you do if I was kidnapped, Mom?"

My mother put down what she was holding and quickly approached Yvonne. Then, she enunciated solemnly, "I will not let that happen to you. If it does, I will make a portrait of the kidnapper the first chance I get and save you, trust me."

Yvonne hugged Mom's arm and giggled cutely. "You're the best, Mom. Still, Jessica is also your daughter. We can forgive her for lying this time, can't we?"

She looked so genuine. That look on her face took me back to three years ago. I had an important piano competition coming up, and I desperately wished for my mother to come.

I wanted to show that I was good at something. I wanted to show that I could make her proud, too.

I just wanted her to know I was no omen. I organized and reorganized my words before I made the call, and as carefully as a scared kitten afraid of abandonment, I made my request.

My mother said she would come. I held my phone as tightly as I could and leaped with excitement. However, my mother called and said she couldn't make it on the day of the performance.

"Eve's sick, and I can't leave her alone. You can handle the competition yourself."

It was a video call, and Yvonne looked pale. She looked at me apologetically. "Sorry, Jessica. I'm not feeling too good. You've always been the independent one, but I can't do anything without Mom. Good luck with the competition."

I looked at the other kids and their parents. Then I cried. All of them were holding bouquets and looked like they were the proudest parents ever. They had encouragement in their eyes and expected great things from their children.

My mother, on the other hand, couldn't even bother to remember the competitions I joined. I was never important to her.

When the competition came to an end, I scrolled my phone and saw a new status from Yvonne. 'It's just a little cold, but Mom's so worried about it. She wouldn't let me leave her sight. I'm the happiest girl ever.'

The picture in the post was of our mother making soup for her. Pain washed over me, creeping all over my heart. For some reason, Yvonne could easily get our mother's love, the one thing I yearned for.

I did everything I could and pulled every single trick in the book, but I couldn't even get a shred of my mother's love. I was unloved.